“Rodney will not want White Buffalo any more,” said the aged chief one morning, when they were within two days’ journey of Fort Cumberland. “White Buffalo must go elsewhere.” “Won’t you come home with me?” asked the young soldier. “Father will be glad to see you, I know.” “White Buffalo must attend to the affairs of his tribe,” was the reply, and soon the aged chief departed with his followers, stating that if it was possible he would stop at Fort Pitt and let James Morris, Dave, and Henry know how they had come through without great loss. Rodney thanked the Indian for all he had done and shook hands warmly, and Barringford did the same. It was a long while, and many startling things occurred, before they saw White Buffalo again. The thoughts of Rodney and his sister turned homeward now, and both were anxious to see the old homestead once more. The twins did not remember much, having been away so long, but they were glad to get away from “the shooting Indians” as Artie called them. It was a cold but clear day when the expedition reached Fort Cumberland. Here the regulars reported, as they had been told to do, and were properly discharged from further service in the army. Rodney, Barringford, and the others also told their stories and delivered a message sent by Colonel Bouquet, who was still near Fort Pitt, trying to locate Pontiac. All was now comparatively quiet around Fort Cumberland. To the southward, a small band of Indians had appeared a few weeks before and attacked some white and colored people, carrying two colored girls, slaves of a Mr. Bowman, into captivity. To the northward, the enemy had fallen on a band of Moravians while at their devotions and slaughtered one of the leaders and two young women. The Moravians were very bitter and wanted the English army to drive the red men to the far west, beyond the Mississippi. Leaving the others at Fort Cumberland, Rodney took the horses and set off for the Morris homestead, in company with Barringford, Nell, and the twins. The route was now familiar even to Nell, and she watched eagerly for the first sign of the cabin. “Papa! I see papa!” she cried, as they made a turn along the brook road, and soon they saw Joseph Morris walking toward them, rifle in hand, for none of the settlers thought of going out without being armed. “Rodney! and Nell!” burst from Joseph Morris’s lips, and he came running up with a beaming face. He kissed his little daughter several times. “Glad you are back! And you too, Sam,” he added to the old frontiersman. “And how are the twins?” and he chucked them under the chin. “I am glad to be back,” said Rodney. “It seems like an age since I went away and joined the soldiers.” They did not stop to tell their story, for it was only a step more to the log cabin. Mrs. Morris, the kindest of motherly women, came rushing out of the door to greet them.