"My white brother speaks the truth," was what White Buffalo said. "Pontiac is as a fox for slyness, a wolf for plunder, and a buffalo for strength. More than that, he is of the great magicians, and his word is a command to thousands." Even though the others had scoffed at Pontiac's powers as a so-called magician, White Buffalo, in common with all other red men, still believed in his power of magic.
The capture of Dave had occurred while he, Barringford, and White Buffalo, were on the way to Will's Creek. After being rescued, the youth and his friends had continued the journey, arriving finally at the homestead in safety. James Morris had returned to the trading-post, and his nephew Henry remained with him.
CHAPTER II
FACING A BIG BEAR
It was a clear, cold day in early January. The snow covered the ground to an average depth of eight inches, but many spots had been swept clear by the high winds, while other places were buried under huge drifts.
Dave and his cousin Rodney had left the Morris homestead early in the morning, to be gone all that day, and possibly the next also. The stock of fresh meat at the cabin was running low, and as Joseph Morris was away from home on business, it fell to the lot of Dave and Rodney to replenish the larder. It was now well along toward the middle of the afternoon, but previous to discovering the deer they had brought down only two rabbits and a wild turkey.
"That is next to nothing," Dave had said. "Why, we can eat all of the bag at one meal." The bringing down of the deer made him feel better, and the prospect of laying low a bear filled him with enthusiasm. As my old readers know, he was not such a hunter as his cousin Henry, who often went out just for the sport of it, but he loved to bring in meat that he knew was needed.
"I'd like to be as good a shot as Henry is," remarked Rodney, as he trudged along by his cousin's side. "I can tell you, he's a wonder. Sam Barringford says so, and he ought to know."
"Henry takes to it naturally," answered Dave. "But you needn't to worry, Rodney,—you shoot better now than many of the settlers do. Look at Brown, and Katley, and Jabbs. They can't hit a thing, although they have tried often enough. Since you've got around again you have done wonderfully well."
"I suppose Henry is doing some tall hunting out around the trading-post these days."