"I have a scratch on the leg, but it isn't much. How are the rest?"
"Uncle Joe has been shot down. I reckon the others are all right."
"Joe shot down? Is he—he——"
"There he is, over by the rocks. No, he isn't dead, but I think he's pretty bad. He got an arrow right in the breast."
Father and son hurried to the spot, to find Joseph Morris stretched out on a blanket and surrounded by all of his family, including Henry, who during the advance of the rangers had fought as bravely as anyone. The arrow had been extracted and Mrs. Morris was using her utmost skill in binding up the wound.
"What do you think, James?" she wailed. "Will he live?"
"While there is life let us hope, Lucy," answered the brother-in-law, tenderly. "Is he unconscious?"
"Yes," put in Rodney. "I—I'm afraid that arrow point was poisoned."
"Let me see the arrow."
It was passed over and James Morris examined it with care. At this point Sam Barringford also came up and he, too, looked the arrow over.