While we had been talking, the Indian I had seen following us approached, having slowly walked his horse, which had apparently been lamed.  I now caught sight of the person behind him, and with much concern recognised my friend Reuben.  One of our captors assisted him to dismount; and Reuben, with his hands bound, was dragged forward to a short distance from us, where he was compelled to sit down on the ground, the Indians intimating by signs that he must not move.  He looked very melancholy, evidently imagining that he was soon to be put to death.  I tried to cheer him up by telling him that we had not been ill-treated.