Jim climbed on a chair and lifted Pa’s drum from its place on the top of Ma’s high cupboard. “Look, Wahbunou.” Jim took the drumsticks and played a short ruffle on the drum. Wahbunou seemed interested; he smiled as he reached for one of the sticks. He grasped it gingerly, turning it over and over, finally returning it to Jim who played another ruffle and a loud roll. Wahbunou smiled again and reached for the drum. Jim nodded. “If you let Pa look at your shoulder, you may have it.” Jim pointed to the Indian boy’s shoulder and then to his father. Wahbunou drew back, but finally nodded. Pa took the bandage off, and gently pulled the rough splint back far enough to look at the boy’s shoulder. Then as gently, he replaced it. “Your wound is healing fine, Wahbunou. Soon you’ll be as good as new.” Jim handed the drum to Wahbunou and the Indian boy beat out a queer, rhythmical sound with the palm of his hand. He didn’t seem to know how to use the drumsticks. Then the boys took turns beating it. Jim could make many fancy rolls and ruffles, but Wahbunou could make only the one sound. One day was like another at the cabin until nights began to grow much cooler. Pa said any day now there would be a frost, so they’d soon have to harvest the turnips and corn. Wahbunou’s shoulder healed nicely and Pa finally took off the bandage and splint. Now that it was cooler and his shirt was in shreds, Ma said Wahbunou should have a new outfit of clothes. She had been sewing for Pa and Jim, so she made Wahbunou a homespun shirt and trousers. In his new clothes Wahbunou looked like any Kentucky boy, save for his copper-colored skin and straight, coarse black hair. Not many days after Pa had removed Wahbunou’s bandage, Ma awakened Pa and Jim earlier than usual. “Jim! Pa!” she cried. “Wake up! He’s gone.” “Gone! Who’s gone?” Pa asked. “Wahbunou. He’s not in his bed.” Jim had scrambled into his clothes. “He’s probably outside, Ma,” he cried as he dashed out-of-doors. But when Jim looked around their dooryard and in the shed, he saw that Wahbunou’s horse was gone. He ran back into the house. “Pa, Wahbunou _must_ be gone. His horse isn’t in the shed with Nellie, either.” The Hudsons could not believe that Wahbunou would leave without telling them good-bye; they spent a long time looking for him. But Wahbunou and his horse were nowhere in sight. Finally Ma fixed breakfast. As she put bowls on the table, she sighed and said, “I can’t understand why he wanted to leave us. He recovered so nicely and seemed happy here.” Jim looked up from his food. “But Ma, maybe he wanted to go back to his own people. I sure would if I were with the Indians or some other strange folks.” Ma shrugged and brushed her hair back from her forehead. “That was the wrong thing for him to do, Jim——go away without telling us good-bye. Sneaking off in the night.”