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"Is it really the voice of a man?" said Bois-Rose, "or only one of those singular echoes which resound in these mountains?" "If it were a human voice," asked Fabian, "where did it come from? it seemed to be above us, and yet I see no one on the top of the hill!"
It should here be stated that up to this hour Bois-Rose and Pepe had not the slightest suspicion that they had ever met, before their chance encounter upon the prairies of America. In reality they had never met farther than that they had been within musket-range of each other.
"Fire!" cried Bois-Rose, and immediately the last Indian of the file fell to rise no more, and two others appeared struggling in the water, and were quickly borne off by the stream. Pepe and Bois-Rose then threw their rifles behind them as agreed upon, for Fabian to reload, while they themselves stood upon the bank, knives in hand.
He smiled, with sad resignation, at those plans for the future which the Canadian sometimes enlarged on before him he so happy in having found him, and who trembled to lose again his beloved Fabian, whose hand he hoped would one day close his eyes. The blind tenderness of Bois-Rose did not divine the abyss under the calm surface of the lake, but Pepe was rather more clear-sighted.
"So much the better," cried Fabian; "better to fight against the fire than wait quietly for death." "Yes," said Bois-Rose; "but fire is a terrible adversary and it fights for these demons."
"Now," continued Bois-Rose, "let us endeavour to build up a rampart which shall be a little more ball and arrow-proof than this fringe of moving leaves and reeds. Did you count how many rifles the Indians had?" "Seven, I believe," said Pepe. "Then ten of them are less to be feared.
He, clinging to his shoulders, had the presence of mind to leave his preserver's arms free; who, with his burden, again entered the water, going backwards. Then his rifle was heard, and an Indian's death-cry immediately followed. This valiant retreat, protected by Pepe and Fabian, awed the Indians, and some minutes after, Bois-Rose triumphantly placed the fainting Gayferos on the island.
"We are going wrong, Bois-Rose," said he, "are not those the tops of the willows on the bank?" "It is true," cried Bois-Rose, rousing himself; "and by the fires being still visible it is evident how little progress we have made in the last half hour." At that moment the island began to move more rapidly, and the trees became more distinct. The hunters looked anxiously at each other.
What think you, Bois-Rose? Isn't he the most splendid quadruped that ever galloped through these woods?" In truth it was a beautiful creature, rendered more beautiful by the terror which he was exhibiting at the moment, as he stood with his fine limbs stretched, his head thrown high in the air, his mane tossed over his wild savage eyes, and his nostrils spread and frothy.
For the first time, at such a crisis, the intrepid hunter looked deadly pale. An eloquent but sad glance was his reply to the Spaniard's mute interrogation. "A too great affection in the heart of the bravest man," thought Pepe, "makes him tremble for him who he loves more than life; and adventurers like us should have no ties. There is Bois-Rose trembling like a woman!"
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