"The Arapahoes have forgotten their chief," said Whirlwind, bitterly.
"No, no: not forgotten him!" cried a young girl—his sister—bounding into the circle, and throwing herself, into his arms.
"The Singing-Bird does not forget," said the chief, holding her tightly in his embrace.
"We did not forget, but thought you dead!" they all cried, after fairly recovering from their panic. The Eagle was one of the first to give him a hearty welcome back, and as he did so, he laid his plume on the returned chieftain's head—thus resigning his title and authority.
"No, keep it yet for awhile," returned Whirlwind, "I must leave you for a time." He then explained the disasters that had befallen them, and, finally, his self-imposed duty in uniting the severed family.
The Indians never do a generous act by piecemeal. They are either warm friends or bitter enemies, knowing no medium between the two. They will lay down their lives to serve a friend, and murder a friend's enemy for the same reason, although they have never seen him before, and personally have no animosity towards him. The Arapahoes applauded the noble design of their chief, and furnished fresh horses to him and Cole, with which to accomplish the distance to the frontier, where Mr. Duncan and his companions were.
Mr. Duncan and family were seating themselves at their evening meal, as the two horseman halted at the door. A glance was sufficient to tell them one was a stranger, and the other—could it be?—was the Arapahoe chief, who was taken captive with his lost ones! They all with one impulse started for the door, but Mrs. Duncan, too overcome with anxiety, stood trembling, pale and speechless, leaning on a chair, from which she had just arisen. Mr. Duncan reached the door, but the words he would have spoken died on his lips, as Lewis bounded past him, and grasping the chiefs arm convulsively, cried—"Do they live!—speak, if you would not see them die!" pointing to his father and mother—"do they live?"
"All live!" said the chief; and as the words fell from his lips, a cry of joy and gladness resounded from the chastened hearts of the family. The certainty that the lost ones still lived, though they yet knew not where nor under what circumstances, roused their enervated energies, nerved their limbs and called back the healthful flush to the cheek, and the light of joy to their eyes.
"To be sure they are well," said Cole to their inquiries, "and we have come all the way from the Sierra Nevada mountains to bring you the news, and take you to them."
"Yes, yes; we will go. To-morrow we will be on the road to see them," said Mrs. Duncan.