What they saw astounded them no less than it had Curry, for on the ground near at hand lay little Abe, with Joe Crowfoot’s dirty red blanket tucked about him, and within three feet sat the redskin, calmly and serenely smoking his pipe.
Dick flung off his blanket and was on his feet in a twinkling.
“Crowfoot!” he joyously cried, rushing forward with his arms outstretched.
For one who complained of rheumatism and advancing age the redskin rose with remarkable quickness. Usually stolid and indifferent in manner, the look that now came to his wrinkled, leathery face was one of such deep feeling and affection that it astounded every one but himself. The old man clasped Dick in his arms as a father might a long-lost son. To Curry and his companions this was a most singular spectacle. Curry had seized a weapon on discovering Crowfoot. He did not use it when the old fellow remained silent and indifferent after his shout of astonishment and alarm.
That the boy should embrace the Indian in such an affectionate manner seemed almost disgusting to Curry and his assistants, all three of whom held Indians in the utmost contempt. For a moment it seemed that the old man’s heart was too full for speech. Finally, with a strange tenderness and depth of feeling in his voice, he said:
“Injun Heart, Great Spirit heap good to old Joe! He let him live to see you some more. What him eyes see make him heart swell with heap big gladness. Soon him go to happy hunting ground; now him go and make um no big kick ’bout it.”
“Joe, I have longed to see you again,” declared Dick, his voice unsteady and a mist in his eyes. “Sometimes my heart has yearned for the old days with you on the plains and amid the mountains. I have longed to be with you again, hunting the grizzly, or sleeping in the shade by a murmuring brook and beneath whispering trees. Then you taught me the secrets of the wild animals and the birds. I have forgotten them now, Joe. I can no longer call the birds and tiny animals of the forest to me. In that way I am changed, Joe; but my heart remains the same toward you, and ever will.”
Now the old redskin held Dick off by both shoulders and surveyed him up and down with those beady eyes, which finally rested on the boy’s handsome face with a look of inexpressible admiration.
“Heap fine! Heap fine!” said the old man. “Joe him know it. Joe him sure you make great man. Joe him no live to see you have whiskers on um face, but you sure make great man. Joe him getting heap close to end of trail. Rheumatism crook him and make um swear sometime.”
“Don’t talk about getting near the end of the trail, Crowfoot,” laughed Dick, whose heart was full of delight over this meeting. “You old hypocrite! I saw you last night! I saw you when you took to your heels after I perforated the gentleman who contemplated cutting your thread of life short. Rheumatism! Why, you deceptive old rascal, you ran like a deer! If your rheumatism was very bad, you couldn’t take to your heels in that fashion.”