Then the idea came to him, in fact leaped up in his brain, with such an impulse that it carried conviction.

He would take this warrior's place and go to the Indian camp.

So eager was he, and so full of his plan, that he did not feel any repulsion as he opened the warrior's deerskin shirt and took his totem from a place near his heart.
It was a little deerskin bag containing a bunch of red feathers.

This was his charm, his magic spell, his bringer of good luck, which had failed him so woefully this time.

Henry, not without a touch of the forest belief, put it inside his own hunting shirt, wishing, although he laughed at himself, that if the red man's medicine had any potency it should be on his own side.
Then he found also the little bag in which the Indian carried his war paint and the feather brush with which he put it on.