"And mine! and mine! and mine!" exclaimed all the warriors. "Then solemnly be it proclaimed," said the orator, "that he to whom belongs this trophy," he pointed to the scalp of the Pane, "shall be chief of the Waco nation!" "Solemnly we avow it!" cried all the warriors in the ring, each placing his hand over his heart as he spoke. "Enough!" said the orator. "Who is chief of the Waco warriors? Let him declare himself on the spot!" A dead silence ensued. Every eye was busy scanning the faces around the circle, every heart was beating to hail their new chief. Carlos, unconscious of the honour that was in store for him, was standing a little to one side, observing the movements of his dusky companions with interest. He had not the slightest idea of the question that had been put. Some one near him, however, who spoke Spanish, explained to him the subject of the inquiry, and he was about to make a modest avowal, when one of the braves in the circle exclaimed-- "Why be in doubt longer? If modesty ties the tongue of the warrior, let his weapon speak. Behold! his arrow still pierces the body of our foe. Perhaps it will declare its owner,--it is a marked one!" "True!" ejaculated the orator. "Let us question the arrow!" And, stepping forward, he drew the shaft from the body of the Pane, and held it aloft. The moment the eyes of the warriors fell upon its barbed head, an exclamation of astonishment passed from their lips. The head was of _iron_! No Waco ever used such a weapon as that! All eyes were instantly turned on Carlos the cibolero, with looks of inquiry and admiration. All felt that it must be from his bow had sped that deadly shaft; and they were the more convinced of this because some who had noticed the third Pane pierced with a rifle bullet, had just declared the fact to the crowd. Yes, it must be so. The pale-face was the avenger of their chief! CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. Carlos, who by this time had become aware of the nature of their inquiries, now stepped forward, and, in modest phrase, detailed through the interpreter how the chief had fallen, and what part he himself had borne in the conflict. A loud murmur of applause broke from the circle of warriors, and the more excited of the young men rushed forward and grasped the cibolero's hand, uttering as they did so expressions of gratitude. Most of the warriors already knew that to him they were indebted for their safety. It was the report of his rifle, fired in the night, that had put them on their guard, and prevented the Panes from surprising their encampment, else the day's history might have been _very_ different. In fact, the Panes, through this very signal having been heard, had been themselves surprised, and that was the true secret of their disaster and sanguinary retreat.