"Don't you know what that is?" answered Ned Rector.
"No. If I did, I shouldn't have asked."
"Why, that's lion meat."
"Li—-li—-lion meat?" gasped the boy.
"Sure thing."
Stacy appeared to suffer a sudden loss of appetite. He grew pale about the lips, his head whirled dizzily. Whether it were from the pipe of peace or the meat, he never knew. He did know that he was a sick boy almost on the instant. With a moan he toppled over on his back.
"I'm going to die," moaned the fat boy. "Carry me off somewhere. I don't want to die here," he begged weakly.
They placed him under the shade of a tree but instead of getting better the boy got worse: The Professor was disturbed.
"Put pale-face boy in to-hol-woh," grunted the chief. "To-hol-woh!" he exclaimed sharply.
Three squaws ran to a low structure of branches that were stuck into the ground, bent in and secured at the middle until it resembled an Esquimo hut in shape. The frame made by the branches was uncovered, but the women quickly threw some brightly colored blankets over the frame, the boys watching the proceeding with keen interest. They then hauled some hot rocks from a fire near by, thrusting these under the blankets into the enclosure, after which a pail of water also was put inside.