As human beings go he was thoroughly happy; the life fitted him, satisfied all his wants, and the memory of his own people became paler and more distant; they could do very well without him; they were so many, one could be spared, and when the chance came he would send word to them that he was alive and well, but that he would not come back.
When the buds began to burst they traveled eastward, until they came to the Mississippi.

The sight of its stream brought back to Henry a thought of those with whom he had first seen it and he felt a pang of remorse.
But the pang was fleeting, and the memory too he resolutely put aside.
They crossed the Mississippi and advanced into the land of little prairies, a green, rich region, pleasant to the eye and full of game.
They wandered and hunted here, drifting slowly to the eastward, until they came upon a great encampment of the fierce and warlike nation, known as the Shawnees.

The Shawnees were in their war paint and were singing warlike songs.

It was evident to the most casual visitor that they were going forth to do battle.
It was late in the afternoon when Henry, Black Cloud and two others came upon this encampment.

His own band had pitched its lodges some miles behind, but the kinship of the forest and the peace between them, made the four the guests of the Shawnees as long as they chose to stay.
At least a thousand warriors were in all the hideous varieties of war paint, and the scene, in the waning light, was weird and ominous even to Henry.