Caleb surrendered the pistol, said "Look out for the Dog!" and Yan crawled through the bushes till that dark moving form was seen again. Another shot and another. The sound of combat died away, and the Indians raised a yell of triumph—all but Little Beaver. A giddiness came over him; he trembled and reeled, and sank down on a root. Caleb and Sam came up quickly.
"What's the matter, Yan?"
"I'm sick—I——"
Caleb took his arm. It was wet. A match was struck.
"Hallo, you're bleeding."
"Yes, he had me—he caught me up the tree. I—I—thought I was a goner."
All interest was now turned from the dead Lynx to the wounded boy.
"Let's get him to the water."
"Guess the camp well is the nearest."
Caleb and Sam took care of Yan, while the others brought the Lynx. Yan grew better as they moved slowly homeward. He told all about the attack of the Lynx.