The trained horses
remained where they had been left, silent and motionless.
Henry, as was natural, was in front, and he was the first to see the
object that had caused the noise. A man stepped from the shelter of a
tree's great trunk, and, although armed, he held up one hand, in the
manner of a friend. He was an Indian of middle age and dignified look,
although he was not painted like any of the tribes that came down to
make war in Kentucky.
Henry recognized at once the friendly signal, and he too stepped from
the cover of the forest, walking slowly toward the warrior, who was
undoubtedly a chief and a man of importance. Twenty feet away, the boy
started a little, and a sudden light leaped into his eyes. Then he
strode up rapidly, and took the warrior's hand after the white custom.
"Black Cloud! My friend!" he said.
"You know me! You have not forgotten?" replied the chief and his eyes
gleamed ever so quickly.
"You have come far from your people and among hostile tribes to see me?"
said Henry who instantly divined the truth.
"It is so," replied the chief, "and to ask you to go back with me.
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