The matter settled, Rodney signaled White Buffalo to approach. He started to go forth, to meet the friendly red man, but White Buffalo quickly warned him back. In a minute the old Delaware chief was in the cavern.
“White Buffalo, I am glad to see you,” cried Rodney, shaking hands.
“How! how!” returned the aged Indian. He peered closely at Rodney in the darkness. “My friend Rodney is better? He can walk well?”
“Yes, I am much better. And how are you? Hello, there is blood on your face!”
“White Buffalo had a fight—down by the river—with some other Indians. They had almost killed his old friend Barringford.”
“Sam! Is he alive?”
“Yes—White Buffalo knocked an Indian over. Then he took Sam and ran through the forest. They were about to torture Sam—to make him speak of this place and who was here. First one Indian wanted his scalp, but Moon Eye came up and stopped the bloody work.”
“And you fought the Indians alone?”
“No, White Buffalo has six warriors with him—they are watching down at the river. Sam could not come—he is too sorely wounded. He sent White Buffalo. He told White Buffalo to cry as a catbird, but that is a bad signal—it would bring Moon Eye and his warriors to the spot. So White Buffalo used the old signal—the one he taught to Dave and Henry. He thought his friend Rodney would remember.”
“And I did remember. But you are hurt. Let me bind up the wound.”