A warrior came into view, then another, and another.

They walked close together.

Two more followed.

They were wading by the side of a raft made of several logs, upon which were two prostrate figures that closely resembled human beings.
Joe was so intent upon the lithe forms of the Indians that he barely got a glimpse of their floating prize, whatever it might have been.
Bringing up the rear was an athletic warrior, whose broad shoulders, sinewy arms, and shaved, polished head Joe remembered well.

It was the Shawnee chief, Silvertip.
When he, too, passed out of sight in the curve of willows, Joe found himself trembling.