He must go, and he would go at once.
Black Cloud was silent for a while, and Henry saw the faintest quiver in his eyes.

He knew that he held a certain place in the affections of the chief, not the place that he might hold in the regard of a white man, it was more limited and qualified, but it was there, nevertheless.
"I am the captive of the tribe I know," said Henry.

"It has made me its son, but my white blood is not changed and I must save my people.

The Shawnees march south to-night against them and I go to give warning.

It is better that I go in peace." He spoke simply, but with dignity, and looked straight into the eyes of the chief, where he saw that slight pathetic quiver come again.
"I cannot keep you now if you would go," said Black Cloud, "but it may be when you are far away that the forest and we with whom you have lived and hunted so many seasons will call to you again, in a voice to which you must listen." Henry was moved; perhaps the chief was telling the truth.