The Patrol of the Sun Dance Trail [13]
and get a fire going."
Allan was soon back with the pail of water.
"Me--water," moaned the Indian, pointing to the pail. Allan held it to his lips and he drank long and deep. In a short time the fire was blazing and the tea pail slung over it.
"If I only had my kit here!" said Mandy. "This torn flesh and skin ought to be all cut away."
"Oh, I say, Mandy, you can't do that. We'll get the Police doctor!" said Allan in a tone of horrified disgust.
But Mandy was feeling the edge of the Indian's knife.
"Sharp enough," she said to herself. "These ragged edges are just reeking with poison. Can you stand it if I cut these bits off?" she said to the Indian.
"Huh!" he replied with a grunt of contempt. "No hurt."
"Mandy, you can't do this! It makes me sick to see you," said her husband.
The Indian glanced with scorn at him, caught the knife out of Mandy's hand, took up a flap of lacerated flesh and cut it clean away.
"Huh! No-t'ing."
Mandy took the knife from him, and, after boiling it for a few minutes, proceeded to cut away the ragged, mangled flesh and skin. The Indian never winced. He lay with eyes closed, and so pallid was his face and so perfectly motionless his limbs that he might have been dead. With deft hands she cleansed the wounds.
"Now, Allan, you must help me. We must have splints for this ankle."
"How would birch-bark do?" he suggested.
"No, it's too flimsy."
"The heavy inner rind is fairly stiff." He ran to a tree and hacked off a piece.
"Yes, that will do splendidly. Get some about so long."
Half an hour's work, and the wounded limb lay cleansed, bandaged, packed in soft moss and bound in splints.
"That's great, Mandy!" exclaimed her husband. "Even to my untutored eyes that looks like an artistic bit of work. You're a wonder."
"Huh!" grunted the Indian. "Good!" His piercing black eyes were lifted suddenly to her face with such a look of gratitude as is seen in the eyes of dumb brutes or of men deprived of speech.
"Good!" echoed Allan. "You're just right, my boy. I couldn't have done it, I assure you."
"Huh!" grunted the Indian in eloquent contempt. "No good," pointing to the man. "Good," pointing to the woman. "Me--no-- forget." He lifted himself upon his elbow, and, pointing to the sun like a red eye glaring in upon them through a vista of woods and hills," said, "Look--He see--me no forget."
There was something truly Hebraic in the exultant solemnity of his tone and gesture.
"By Jove! He won't either, I truly believe," said Allan. "You've made a friend for life, Mandy. Now, what's next? We can't carry this chap. It's three miles to their camp. We can't leave him here. There are wolves all around and the brutes always attack anything wounded."
The Indian solved the problem.
"Huh!" he grunted contemptuously. He took up his long hunting- knife. "Wolf--this!" He drove the knife to the hilt into the ground.
"You go--my fadder come. T'ree Indian," holding up three fingers. "All right! Good!" He sank back upon the ground exhausted.
"Come on then, Mandy, we shall have to hurry."
"No, you go. I'll wait."
"I won't have that. It will be dark soon and I can't leave you here alone with--"
"Nonsense! This poor boy is faint with hunger and pain. I'll feed him while you're gone. Get me afresh pail of water and I can do for myself."
"Well," replied her husband dubiously, "I'll get you some wood and--"
"Come, now," replied Mandy impatiently, "who taught you to cut wood? I can get my own wood. The main thing is to get away and get back. This boy needs shelter. How long have you been here?" she inquired of the Indian.
The boy opened his eyes and swung his arm twice from east to west, indicating the whole sweep of the sky.
"Two days?"
He nodded.
"You must be starving. Want to eat?"
"Good!"
"Hurry, then, Allan, with the water. By the time this lad has been fed you will be back."
It was not long before Allan was back with the water.
"Now, then," he said to the Indian, "where's
Allan was soon back with the pail of water.
"Me--water," moaned the Indian, pointing to the pail. Allan held it to his lips and he drank long and deep. In a short time the fire was blazing and the tea pail slung over it.
"If I only had my kit here!" said Mandy. "This torn flesh and skin ought to be all cut away."
"Oh, I say, Mandy, you can't do that. We'll get the Police doctor!" said Allan in a tone of horrified disgust.
But Mandy was feeling the edge of the Indian's knife.
"Sharp enough," she said to herself. "These ragged edges are just reeking with poison. Can you stand it if I cut these bits off?" she said to the Indian.
"Huh!" he replied with a grunt of contempt. "No hurt."
"Mandy, you can't do this! It makes me sick to see you," said her husband.
The Indian glanced with scorn at him, caught the knife out of Mandy's hand, took up a flap of lacerated flesh and cut it clean away.
"Huh! No-t'ing."
Mandy took the knife from him, and, after boiling it for a few minutes, proceeded to cut away the ragged, mangled flesh and skin. The Indian never winced. He lay with eyes closed, and so pallid was his face and so perfectly motionless his limbs that he might have been dead. With deft hands she cleansed the wounds.
"Now, Allan, you must help me. We must have splints for this ankle."
"How would birch-bark do?" he suggested.
"No, it's too flimsy."
"The heavy inner rind is fairly stiff." He ran to a tree and hacked off a piece.
"Yes, that will do splendidly. Get some about so long."
Half an hour's work, and the wounded limb lay cleansed, bandaged, packed in soft moss and bound in splints.
"That's great, Mandy!" exclaimed her husband. "Even to my untutored eyes that looks like an artistic bit of work. You're a wonder."
"Huh!" grunted the Indian. "Good!" His piercing black eyes were lifted suddenly to her face with such a look of gratitude as is seen in the eyes of dumb brutes or of men deprived of speech.
"Good!" echoed Allan. "You're just right, my boy. I couldn't have done it, I assure you."
"Huh!" grunted the Indian in eloquent contempt. "No good," pointing to the man. "Good," pointing to the woman. "Me--no-- forget." He lifted himself upon his elbow, and, pointing to the sun like a red eye glaring in upon them through a vista of woods and hills," said, "Look--He see--me no forget."
There was something truly Hebraic in the exultant solemnity of his tone and gesture.
"By Jove! He won't either, I truly believe," said Allan. "You've made a friend for life, Mandy. Now, what's next? We can't carry this chap. It's three miles to their camp. We can't leave him here. There are wolves all around and the brutes always attack anything wounded."
The Indian solved the problem.
"Huh!" he grunted contemptuously. He took up his long hunting- knife. "Wolf--this!" He drove the knife to the hilt into the ground.
"You go--my fadder come. T'ree Indian," holding up three fingers. "All right! Good!" He sank back upon the ground exhausted.
"Come on then, Mandy, we shall have to hurry."
"No, you go. I'll wait."
"I won't have that. It will be dark soon and I can't leave you here alone with--"
"Nonsense! This poor boy is faint with hunger and pain. I'll feed him while you're gone. Get me afresh pail of water and I can do for myself."
"Well," replied her husband dubiously, "I'll get you some wood and--"
"Come, now," replied Mandy impatiently, "who taught you to cut wood? I can get my own wood. The main thing is to get away and get back. This boy needs shelter. How long have you been here?" she inquired of the Indian.
The boy opened his eyes and swung his arm twice from east to west, indicating the whole sweep of the sky.
"Two days?"
He nodded.
"You must be starving. Want to eat?"
"Good!"
"Hurry, then, Allan, with the water. By the time this lad has been fed you will be back."
It was not long before Allan was back with the water.
"Now, then," he said to the Indian, "where's