ut we thought,
or fancied, that it had made an impression upon our adversaries. They
were men not apt to show any sudden emotion; but it appeared to us that,
all at once, their glances grew bolder, and more triumphant. Could it
have been a signal?

We listened for a minute. The scream was repeated; and although it was
exactly after the manner of a bird well known to us--the white-headed
eagle--we sat with unsatisfied and tearful apprehensions.

The young chief, he in the hussar dress, was upon his feet. He had been
the most turbulent and exacting of our opponents. He was a man of most
villainous and licentious character, so Rube had told us, but
nevertheless holding great power among the braves. It was he who had
spoken in refusal of Seguin's offer, and he was now about to assign his
reasons. We knew them without that.

"Why," said he, looking at Seguin as he spoke, "why is it that the white
chief is so desirous of choosing among our captives? Is it that he
wishes to get back the yellow-haired maiden?"

He paused a moment, as if for a reply; but Seguin made none.

"If the white chief believes our queen to be his daughter, would not he
wish that her sister should be her companion, and return with her to our
land?"

Again he paused; but, as before, Seguin remained silent.

The speaker proceeded.

"Why not let the yellow-haired maiden return with us, and become my
wife? Who am I that ask this? A chief of the Navajoes, the descendants
of the great Montezuma; the son of their king!"

The savage looked around him with a vaunting air as he uttered these
words.

"Who is she," he continued, "that I am thus begging for a bride? The
daughter of one who is not even respected among his own people: the
daughter of a culatta!"

I looked at Seguin. I saw his form dilating. I saw the big veins
swelling along his throat. I saw gathering in his eyes that wild
expression I had once before noticed. I knew that the crisis was near.

Again the eagle screamed!

"But," proceeded the savage, seeming to draw new boldness from the
signal, "I shall beg no more. I love the white maiden. She must be
mine; and this very night shall she sleep--"

He never finished the sentence. Seguin's bullet had sped, piercing the
centre of his forehead. I caught a glimpse of the red round hole, with
its circle of blue powder, as the victim tell forward on his face!

All together we sprang to our feet. As one man rose hunters an