Camp-fire and Wigwam

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

"I'm going to be ill," he said, pressing his hand to his forehead; "something is wrong with me."

The shock which came with the conviction was deepened by the belief that he was about to go through the experience that had befallen poor Otto Relstaub.

"He fell sick while tramping through the woods with the Indians, and they have either tomahawked or left him to die. These people with all their Medicine Men and Women know nothing about curing sick folks, and if I do become ill that will be the end of me."

The boy was in anything but a cheerful frame of mind, but he faced the position like a hero. He did not lose heart, though he was sure that his situation was worse than ever before, and he did not forget any of the incidents of the journey from Kentucky to Louisiana, when many a time there seemed not the slightest ground for hope.

After smoking awhile Ogallah and his visitor got up and went out doors. The chief was gone but a short time when he came back, and, as he resumed his seat, grunted out something to his squaw, who immediately laid down her pipe, tenderly shoved the nose of her dog aside and left the place.

While Jack was wondering what the meaning of these movements could be, the attack of weakness which had alarmed him passed off, like the fleeing shadow of a cloud. It was followed by a natural rebound of spirits, and he too rose to his feet and walked toward the door.

The sachem looked inquiringly at him, but showed no objection to his departure. The boy placed his hand at his waist to make sure his hunting knife was there, and at the entrance paused a moment in doubt.

"I wonder whether they will set on me again," he said to himself; "if they do I will use my weapon—that's certain, and then there will be a bigger rumpus than before."

The knowledge that the chief who had served so many times as friend was near at hand added much to Jack's courage, when he finally let the bison-skin door drop behind him.

The explanation of the squaw's departure was manifest at once. She had a long sharpened stick in her hands, with which she was stirring the earth around some hills of corn growing on a small plot near their lodge. Extending his gaze, Jack saw many other squaws engaged in the same manner, but among them all was not a single man. They were lolling in their wigwams, smoking or dozing, or hunting in the woods for game or scalps.