"I've got to watch my chances," he reasoned. "Perhaps I can do it some dark night, or when there is a heavy storm going on."
He expected an interview with Moon Eye in the morning, but the chief did not come, for the reason that he had been called away to a council of war. This council lasted two days, and during that time Dave was kept in close confinement, so that he saw nothing further of his cousin or Tom and Artie.
On the evening of the second day Dave looked out of the wigwam and saw that a storm was at hand. The sky was overcast and a stiff breeze was blowing through the forest.
"This may give me a chance to get away," he thought. "Wish I knew where Nell and the twins were."
Two young Indians were guarding the wigwam. Neither was over fifteen years of age. One had a hunting knife and the other an old tomahawk.
Dave was on the point of addressing the young braves when he paused to listen to a sound that came from across the lake. He had heard the sound before, but had paid no attention.
"I don't believe it is possible," he mused. "But it may be. I'll answer and see."
He began to whistle softly to himself and smiled at the young Indians. Then, as if to attract their attention, he gave a loud whistle. Immediately, from beyond the lake, came an answering whistle, in a different note. Then Dave began to whistle his old favorite, "Lucy Locket Lost Her Pocket,"—which was nothing more than the tune we now know as "Yankee Doodle." Again came an answering note—that of a storm bird—but no bird uttered it.
"White Buffalo!" thought the youth, and his heart glowed within him. "I wonder how long he has been on the watch? Perhaps ever since Nell and the twins arrived."
Not to alarm the Indians, Dave continued to whistle to himself, and imitate several birds. The young braves became interested, and one began to whistle in a similar fashion. Then Dave showed him how to whistle on one and on two fingers.