"White Buffalo knows the trail," came in the voice of the Indian chief.

"Hullo! is that you, White Buffalo? Very well, but be careful."

Torches in hand, Dave and White Buffalo moved forward slowly. But the
Indian knew exactly what he was doing, and soon he and the youth with him
were at the bottom of the hollow in safety. Then Dave ran forward to greet
his cousin.

"Are you badly hurt?" he questioned.

"No. I'm all right, Dave, although I got two nasty tumbles."

"Sam was afraid you had been killed. He searched all around, but couldn't
find you."

"I was foolish not to wait until Sam came down to the water course. I
started to get out alone and got into this pickle. Why didn't you shout
when you came up?"

"We saw the fire but White Buffalo thought there might be some unfriendly
Indians or trappers around. So then I thought of my old whistle. I knew you
would recognize it."

Henry had to tell his story, and then Dave asked him if he was well enough
to return to the camp without delay.

"They are all anxious about you, especially father and Sam," he added.