The croaking of the frog continued, moving gradually closer to the mouth of the cave. Then Rodney saw something wave in the air, between two bushes. The object went up and down twice, then crosswise three times and then around in a circle.
“White Buffalo true enough!” murmured the young soldier. He called some of the others to his side. “White Buffalo, a friendly Indian, is out there. He wants to talk to us.”
“I’ll trust none of them,” said one of the regulars promptly. “They are all cutthroats!”
“White Buffalo has been a friend to our family for years,” went on the young soldier. “I can vouch for him in every respect. You know him, Casbury, and so do you, Malloy.”
“Yes, he is square, so far as I know,” answered Casbury.
“He’s a putty good Indian, so he is,” said the Irish borderman mentioned. “But not wan av thim can be thrusted whin the war’s goin’ ag’in ’im. Betther be afther bein’ careful, Rodney.”
“He wants to talk to us—he has something important to say,” persisted Rodney.
“How do yez know that?”
“He just signaled to me. He and my brother Henry and cousin Dave are great friends, and White Buffalo taught us some of his signals. We had better let him come in and talk to us.”
Those in the cave discussed the matter and at last agreed to follow Rodney’s advice. But they remained on guard, to shoot White Buffalo or any other Indian down, at the first sign of treachery.