Mr. Henderson recommended.”

“Who is he? What’s his name?”

Mr. Cook pulled his feet down from the railing and stood up. There was a look of amusement on his face as if he was enjoying a private joke. “If you turn around, Mike, I’ll introduce you. He’s been standing behind you for the last two minutes.”

The two boys whirled around in surprise. Standing near the porch was a short, dark man with deep-set brown eyes. His straight black hair, worn long, was carefully brushed back and held in place by a battered gray felt hat. A red checked shirt, well-worn suspenders and a loose pair of trousers tucked into high-topped shoes completed his outfit. There was a feeling of relaxed strength and quiet power about his bearing that reminded the boys of the mountains that towered in the distance beyond the river. He looked as if he were carved out of the same stuff—solid granite.

Mr. Cook shifted his pipe and extended his right hand. “Come on up and meet the boys. Mike,” he said, “I’d like you to meet Chief Eagle Plume.”

Mike almost pitched forward on his face as he scrambled out of the hammock. The Indian glided over the porch steps and suddenly he was standing next to all three of them. Sandy had never seen a man move so effortlessly.

“And this,” Mr. Cook went on, “is Sandy Steele, the third member of our expedition.”

The Indian nodded gravely as he acknowledged the introduction. Mike, who was clearly puzzling over what to say next, decided the proper thing to do was bow formally.

“Heap glad you come with us,” he said solemnly. “We go trip together, we catchum plenty—uh—” He glanced over at his father for some support, but Mr. Cook was busy with his pipe.

Mike gritted his teeth and plunged on. “Catchum plenty—ah—”

“Scalps?” the Indian suggested helpfully.

Mike blushed furiously. “Yes, I mean—no—”

There was a flash of white as the Indian broke into an amused laugh. “Sure hate to disillusion you, Mike. But that sort of thing’s a little out of date.”

Mike stared at him with a dazed expression. “But I....” He grinned sheepishly. “I thought you were an Indian. That name, Chief Eagle Plume....”

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