movements had their habitual gravity and dignity.

He walked with Black Cloud to the edge of the encampment, said farewell
to the Shawnees, and then, with a great surge of joy, his resolution
came to him. It was so sudden, so transforming that the whole world
changed at once. The blood-red tint, thrown by the sunken sun, was gone
from the forest, but instead the silver sickle of the moon was rising
and shed a radiant light of hope.

He said nothing until they had gone a mile or so and then, drawing Black
Cloud aside, spoke to him words full of firmness, but not without
feeling. He made no secret of his purpose, and he said that if Black
Cloud and the others sought to stay him with force with force he would
reply. He must go, and he would go at once.

Black Cloud was silent for a while, and Henry saw the faintest quiver in
his eyes. He knew that he held a certain place in the affections of the
chief, not the place that he might hold in the regard of a white man, it
was more limited and qualified, but it was there, nevertheless.

"I am the captive of the tribe I know," said Henry. "It has made me its
son, but my white blood is not changed and I must save my people. The
Shawnees march south to-night against them and I go to give warning. It
is better that I go in peace."

He spoke simply, but with dignity, and looked straight into the eyes of
the chief, where he saw that slight pathetic quiver come again.

"I cannot keep you now if you would go," said Black Cloud, "but it may
be when you are far away that the forest and we with whom you have lived
and hunted so many seasons will call to you again, in a voice to which
you must listen."

Henry was moved; perhaps the chief was telling the truth. He saw the
hardships and bareness of the wilderness but the life there appealed to
him and satisfied the stronger wants of his nature; he seemed to be the
reincarnation of some old forest dweller, belonging to a time thousands
of years ago, yet the voice of duty, which was in this case also the
voice of love, called to him, too, and now with the louder voice. He
would go, and there must be no delay in his going.

"Farewell, Black Cloud," he said with the same simplicity. "I will think
often of you who have been good to me."

The chief called the other warriors and told them their comrade was
going far to the south, and they might never see him again. Their faces
expressed nothing, whatever they may have felt. Henry repeated