The disabled hunter did try him, often compelled, as he was, to bear to such an extent upon his new friend that it may be said the latter sustained half his weight. The progress was slow, and when they reached a small stream of water, Bowlby sat down and allowed the young Shawanoe to bathe the inflamed limb. Great relief was felt.
During this labored walk homeward, the two naturally talked a good deal together and learned much about each other. Deerfoot said that he had often hunted through the surrounding country, and he told why it was he had found it necessary to leave his tribe on the other side of the Mississippi. He said that he had spent more than one night in the deserted cabin of Bowlby and his friends during the summer months, when he found himself belated in the vicinity, and he once shot a wolf that was resolved on entering against his protest. It was his intention to make a call upon the hunters, and if they needed his aid, he was glad to give it in the way of helping trap or shoot game. You need not be told that though James Bowlby felt an innate dislike of the American race, there was now one exception: henceforth he was the sworn friend of Deerfoot the Shawanoe.
Linden and Hardin had got back from making their rounds, and were wondering what could have delayed their friend, when they saw him limping painfully on one foot, and supported by a fine looking young Indian warrior. Their astonishment was great, for they could not understand what it meant. Linden hastened to the help of Bowlby, but he waved him aside and said no one could do as well as Deerfoot.
While Hardin went out to bring in the two beavers that had been taken from the traps by Bowlby, the latter was assisted to a seat on the log in front of the cabin. Then Deerfoot insisted on giving attention to the injured limb. It had swollen a great deal since he bathed it. There was nothing in the cabin in the way of ointment or liniment, but Deerfoot hastened into the wood and soon came back with the leaves of some plant whose virtues seemed to be well known to him. These were wrapped in a piece of linen, which the establishment managed to afford, and pounded to a pulp, and then the poultice was gently applied to the inflamed ankle. Bowlby declared that it felt better at once, but his face lengthened when Deerfoot told him that it would be a moon, or several weeks, before he would fully recover the use of his limb.
"That will make us short-handed, and we need every one," said Mr. Linden; "I wish Fred was here to give us help."
"I think I can ride my hoss to Greville," said Bowlby, "and bring him back with me."
"That is hardly worth while."
"Where is the home of my brother?" gently asked Deerfoot.
"At the settlement of Greville, about a hundred miles to the north."
"Deerfoot knows where it is," he replied; "he will take a message for his brother, for his footsteps lead him that way."