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of Kouha-hande. He is himself a chief, and a noted brave. Though young, his reputation is immense. He is tall, athletic, and even elegant of face. His features are handsome, even to effeminacy. His glance, gentle in repose as that of a dove, is, when his anger is aroused, so terrible that few can face it. His physical force is stupendous, his cunning sublime. But you will soon judge for yourself. His enemies call him Kristikam-Seksenan, or Black Thunder; his friends call him Numank-Charake, the brave man, in consequence of his mighty deeds."

      "You have simply been describing a hero," said Oliver.

      "You shall judge for yourself," smiled the other.

      "I am extremely anxious to do so."

      "You will soon have the opportunity. It is now five o'clock. In a few minutes he will be here."

      "What, after making an appointment so long ago, you expect him to keep it to the minute!"

      "Yes; it is the politeness of the desert, from which nothing absolves but death."

      "A summary excuse, truly," said Oliver.

      "Listen," cried Bright-eye.

      Oliver listened, and distinctly heard in the distance the trampling of a horse, which suddenly ceased, to be followed by the cry of the goshawk.

      Bright-eye responded with a similar cry, and with such perfection that the Frenchman mechanically raised his head in search of the bird.

      Then the sound of a horse galloping recommenced, the bushes parted violently, and a horseman bounded into the clearing, checking his steed so artistically that next moment he stood like a centaur rooted to the ground.

      The rider was very much as Bright-eye had described him. There was about him, moreover, an air of grandeur, a majesty which inspired respect without repelling sympathy. One glance sufficed to fix him as a man of superior nature.

      It was the first time Oliver, since his journey on the prairies, had seen an Indian so near, and under such favourable circumstances. He at once formed a friendly opinion of him.

      The chief bowed, and then pointed to the sun gilding the summits of the trees.

      "It is five o'clock. Here is Numank-Charake."

      "I say welcome, chief. I know your extreme punctuality. Supper is ready."

      "Good," said the chief, alighting from his horse with one bound.

      Bright-eye then placed his hands on his friend's shoulders.

      "Let my brother listen. The hunter is my friend."

      "Numank-Charake has read it in the eyes of Bright-eye," replied the Indian, turning to Oliver; "I put my hand on my heart, what will my brother give me in return?"

      "My hand and my heart; that is," he added, with a smile, "all that is not Bright-eye's."

      "I accept my share; henceforth we are three in one, one in three. Numank-Charake was once the Bounding Panther. Let that name be the name of my brother."

      They shook hands. All was done. According to the customs of the country they were brothers, and held everything in common.

      Almost on the threshold of his desert life, Oliver found himself associated with two men noted as the most honest and doughty champions of the prairie.

      CHAPTER V.

      A GREAT MEDICINE COUNCIL

      For some time the three men, of such different birth, race, and manners, remained silent. It was a solemn moment. Their meeting appeared to them providential.

      Above all was the young Frenchman absorbed in his reflections. Alone an hour or two ago, he was now one of a formidable trio.

      All the time the Canadian went on with his cooking, while the chief gave fodder to the horses.

      "Supper is ready," suddenly cried Bright-eye, laughing, "let us eat."

      And all three seated themselves around a magnificent roast leg of venison à la boucanière.

      We must hasten to remark that nearly all Indian tribes on the borders of Canada understand and speak French, at all events, they did at the time of which we speak. This was the more fortunate as Oliver did not know one word of Huron.

      The guests did honour to the feast, that is to say, they left nothing but the bones.

      The meal, which was washed down by several draughts of French brandy, was merry, enlivened by jokes and witticisms. The Indians are always thus among themselves. It is only when in the presence of the whites, whom they hate, that they are grave, silent, and sullen, never unbending except under the influence of drink, when their conduct is that of beings under the influence of delirium tremens.

      Brandy, or rather spirit in every shape and form, is doing the work of extermination for the American.

      As soon as the repast was finished, they began to smoke, speaking of indifferent things. It was the design neither of Bright-eye nor Oliver to hurry the young chief. Indian etiquette is excessively severe on this point. It is a proof of intense ill breeding to question a chief, or even a simple warrior, when he appears anxious for silence.

      And yet the sun had disappeared from the horizon; night had spread over the desert, blotting out the landscape, and mixing up forms in the most fantastic and strange manner. The sky, of a deep blue, was dotted with stars. The moon, in its second quarter, began to show itself above the trees, floating in ether, and spreading on every side its silvery rays, that lit the prairie here and there with fantastic gleams. The night wind shivered through the branches of the trees producing plaintive and melodious sounds, like those of the Æolian harp.

      The sombre dwellers in the desert, roused by the setting of the sun, moved slowly about in the darkness, breaking the silence occasionally by their wild brays, their sharp barks, and their deep roars. Under every blade of grass murmured the never silent world of grasshoppers.

      The night was cold. It was the period of the great autumn hunts. Several white frosts had already cooled the earth, soon the temperature would be below zero. The rivers and streams would be frozen, and snow would cover the desert as with a shroud.

      The adventurers, after throwing on an armful of dry wood to revive the flame, had wrapped themselves in their ponchos, and, sheltered by the trees, continued smoking silently.

      "This is the hour of the second watch," suddenly observed Numank, drawing from his belt the medicine calumet, which is only used by chiefs in council; "the blue jay has sung twice, all rests around us. Will my pale friends sleep or listen to the voice of a friend?"

      "Sleep is for women and children," replied Bright-eye; "men remain awake when a friend desires to speak of serious things. Speak."

      "We listen," added Oliver, bowing.

      "I will speak, since my friends desire it; but as what I have to say is grave, it will not be a talk but a medicine council."

      "Let it be so," said Bright-eye.

      Numank rose, bowed to the four cardinal points, speaking some indistinct words; then he seated himself on his hams again, stuffed his calumet with moriche, a kind of sacred tobacco only used in great ceremonies. Then having burnt some in the fire as an oblation, he took a medicine stick, and with it lifted a burning coal to the bowl of the calumet.

      The chief then gave several puffs, and then, still holding the bowl in his hand, presented the stem to Bright-eye. The hunter gave several puffs, as did Oliver in his turn; it then came back to the chief, this going on until the last morsel of tobacco was consumed.

      Then Numank-Charake rose, bent again to the four cardinal points of the heavens, shook the ashes into the fire, and spoke.

      "Wacondah, master of life," he said, "you who know all, inspire my words."

      This formality over he replaced his calumet and sat down.

      Some minutes elapsed, during which he remained wrapped in deep thought. Then he raised his head, before bowed on his chest, bowed to his audience, and began.

      "Eight moons ago," he said, "I had just returned from an expedition against the Piekanns. After presenting the

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