“I think they saw us first,” said Henry. “And if so, it will do us small good to hide.”
He had hardly spoken when a shrill whistle filled the air, followed by a cry that was well known to Dave and Henry. At once both boys ran out into the road.
“White Buffalo!” cried Dave, and moved onward to greet the aged chief.
“Where goes my young friend?” questioned White Buffalo.
“I am going home,” answered Dave, and then told of what had happened at the trading post. White Buffalo was much concerned.
“’Tis sad news indeed,” said he. “And comes at a time when White Buffalo’s heart was filled with gladness.”
“What has happened to make you glad?” asked Henry.
“My tribe is at peace once more. Henceforth all of our warriors will be friendly to the English. And they have made me the chief of all my people.”
“I am glad of that, for your sake!” cried Dave. “And you deserve this, White Buffalo, for you are the very best Indian I know.”
“White Buffalo wishes he could aid his friend Dave,” said the Indian. “But now he must journey to the home of the Delawares, to prepare for the great ceremonial. But when he is at liberty he will follow Dave, and bring with him some of his best braves.”