And he entered his mother's calli, to give her the morning kiss.
We must now return to Red Cedar. When the squatter heard the yells of the redskins, and saw their torches flashing through the trees in the distance, he at the first start of terror thought himself lost, and burying his head in his hands, he would have fallen to the ground, had not Fray Ambrosio caught hold of him just in time.
"Demonios!" the monk exclaimed, "take care, gossip, gestures are dangerous here."
But the bandit's despondency lasted no longer than a flash of lightning; he drew himself up again, almost as haughty as he had been previously, saying in a firm voice--"I will escape."
"Bravely spoken, gossip," the monk said; "but we must act."
"What do you mean?" the monk cried, with a start of terror; "why, that leads to the redskins' camp."
"Very good, and may the devil protect us!" Fray Ambrosio muttered.
The squatter, as he said, marched boldly toward the camp; they soon reached the spot where they let down a lasso for Nathan, and which they had beaten a retreat from in their first movement of terror. On reaching it, the squatter parted the branches, and looked down. All the camp was aroused; Indians could be seen running about in all directions.
"Oh," Red Cedar muttered, "I hoped all these demons would start in pursuit of us; it is impossible to cross there."
"We cannot think of it," said Nathan, "we should be hopelessly lost."
Ellen, exhausted with fatigue, seated herself on a branch, and her father gazed at her in despair.
"Poor child," he said, in a low voice, "how she suffers!"
"Do not think about me, father," she said; "save yourself, and leave me here."
"Leave you!" he cried, savagely; "never! Not if I died; no, no, I will save you."
"What have I to fear from these men, to whom I never did any harm?" she continued; "they will have pity on my weakness."
Red Cedar burst into an ironical laugh. "Ask the jaguars if they pity the antelopes," he said. "You do not know the savages, poor child. They would torture you to death with ferocious joy."
"Time is slipping away; let us decide on something," the monk repeated.
"Go to the demon!" the squatter said brutally; "You are my evil genius."
"How ungrateful men are!" the monk said, ironically, as he raised his hypocritical eyes to Heaven; "I, who am his dearest friend."