When the meal was ready, the boys and men washed, and all sat down at the table. Joseph Morris said grace, and the food was passed around, so that each might take whatever he wanted. Only White Buffalo waited to be served by Mrs. Morris, and during the repast the Delaware said not a word, nor did he open his mouth until after a "pipe of peace" had been passed around by Mr. Morris, to himself and Sam Barringford.
"White Buffalo has been well received, his heart is glad," said the old Indian to Mrs. Morris. This was all he ever said after dining at the cabin, but his words had the ring of truth in them.
The meal over, all gathered around the fire, to talk over matters in general, and to tell of their various experiences. Rodney was glad to rest and retired early. Joseph Morris had to admit that his twisted ankle hurt him not a little, and he bathed it with some liniment and bound it up. When all of the others had withdrawn, Sam Barringford and White Buffalo made themselves comfortable on the cabin floor before the cheerful blaze. Outside the snow came down as thickly as ever, and occasionally the rising wind swept mournfully through the tree branches. As Dave turned over on his rude but comfortable couch, he was glad he was home again and not out in the trackless forest with its many perils.
CHAPTER V
A LETTER OF INTEREST
One snow-storm succeeded another during the following two weeks, so hunting was out of the question for Sam Barringford and White Buffalo. The former amused himself with the twins, while the Indian either sat by the fire smoking, or made toys out of wood for Nell. Occasionally the Delaware would tell stories of great hunts or great fights with rival tribes, and the little miss never tired of listening to his tales.
"White Buffalo is the best Indian that ever was," declared Nell to her mother. "Oh, he is just—just beautiful!"
"He certainly is good-hearted," answered Mrs. Morris. "Would that all the red men were the same," and she heaved a deep sigh, as she remembered the many perils of the past.
Instead of getting better Joseph Morris's twisted ankle seemed to grow worse and for the time being he had to keep off his feet. It was not a serious hurt, but he was afraid that it might become so if he attempted to use the member.
"You had better take it easy, Uncle Joe," said Dave. "I can do the outside work well enough."