CHAPTER VI.
A BOY OF NERVE.
Dick Merriwell did arrive in Omaha the following morning, and he brought Old Joe Crowfoot with him. The old redskin was looking thin and weak, and the expression of his wrinkled face was as inscrutable as ever.
“How!” he exclaimed, holding out his hand to Merriwell, as Frank met them at the station.
“How are you, Crowfoot?” exclaimed Merry.
“Heap better,” was the answer.
“That is good. Has the wound healed?”
“Some.”
“Are you strong?”
“Not yet; get so heap soon.”
“Well, I’m glad to see you. I took pains to have everything done for your comfort and to aid in bringing you round as soon as possible.”