The young Indian wheeled about and returned, took the chubby hand again
in his, and with tender gravity shook it gently, very gently. As he did
so, a mistiness came over his bright, wild eyes, which, when he had
turned again to go, must--if ever Indian warrior weeps--have gathered
into a tear. With wistful eyes, Burl and Bushie followed the swiftly
receding form of their red friend, who never turned to look at them till
he had gained the crest of a distant hill to the north. Here he faced
about and remained for many moments gazing back at them; his graceful
figure, his wild dress, and his rifle in sharp relief against a patch of
blue sky, gleaming through an opening in the forest beyond. In final
farewell Burl waved his cap. Kumshakah answered with a wide wave of the
hand; then, turning, quickly vanished behind the hill, to be seen no
more. With sorrowful hearts, Burl and Bushie turned likewise, and
retraced their steps to Fort Reynolds.