"No," said Hugh, "I reckon not. I haven't looked at him, but from what these men say, I judge he'll be all right in a few days. I'll ask Red Bear, there; he's doctoring him." He spoke to the old man, who had finished attending to Yellow Wolf, and was now gravely smoking a long pipe that Little Plume had passed to him. He spoke a few words, and Hugh said to Jack, "The old man says that he's not badly hurt; that before long he will be quite well."
A little later, Little Plume spoke to Hugh quite earnestly for some moments, and then stood on his feet, reached over and shook Jack's hand. "He says," said Hugh, "that his woman told him what you did this afternoon, and he will always remember it; that you will always be like a son to him, because you saved the life of his little girl. He cannot tell you much of what he feels, but his heart is big toward you. He wants you to stop here in this lodge as long as you can, and if you see anything of his that you want, you must take it, for it is yours."
"Well," said Jack, "I don't see why they make so much of a fuss over my getting the girl to shore. If he wants to thank anybody, he ought to thank Pawnee. I could not have done anything without him. Tell him that I am glad I could help the little girl, and that it makes me feel good that he should be friendly toward me."
For a long time they sat there by the fire, the men talking in a language that Jack could not understand, while he listened to the sounds without, and watched the sights within. Now and then would be heard the swift galloping of a horse, as some one rode rapidly across the circle of the camp. Young men shouted shrilly to each other. From various points came the sound of drumming and of distant singing. Now and then a party of four or five would pass by on foot, chanting some plaintive, melancholy air. There was a distant hum of voices, above which occasionally rose the sweetly shrill laugh of a woman. Within the lodge, the fire snapped and flickered. One by one the women and children lay down upon their beds, and wrapped their brown robes about them, and lay still. The men talked on and the long-stemmed pipe passed from hand to hand. As the men talked, their hands flew in the graceful gesticulations of the sign language, and sometimes Jack imagined that he could tell what it was that they were talking about. Jack watched and listened, and listened and watched, but by and by his eyes grew dim, and he began to nod.
Hugh noticed this after a little, and turning to him, said, "Well, son, I reckon you're tired. We've had a long day, and I expect you'd like to go to sleep. There's your bed," he added, pointing, "under where your clothes hang. You'd better turn in in them buffalo robes, and get a good night's rest." Jack was glad to do it, and before long had forgotten where he was.
CHAPTER XVI. AN INDIAN FRIEND.
The next few days Jack spent in the camp, going about from lodge to lodge with Hugh, being introduced to his friends, being invited to feast by them, and listening to their speeches and stories, which, of course, he did not understand at all. There was so much that was strange, in this simple savage life that he did not get tired of watching the people and wondering what their different actions meant.
One day Hugh had gone off to the head chief's lodge, and had left Jack alone in front of their home. The sun shone brightly down on the camp, but a cool breeze, laden with the breath of the snow fields far above, swept down from the mountains and made Jack feel chilly. He sat down in the lee of the lodge, where it was warm and comfortable in the sun. Before he had been there very long a shadow fell across the ground, and he looked up to see standing near him an Indian boy about his own age. Presently the boy sat down beside him and began to make signs, often pointing up toward the mountains, but Jack understood nothing of what he wished to say, and at length the boy seemed to become discouraged, and stopped making signs, and they sat there side by side looking at each other. Jack saw that he had no braids hanging down on each side of his face, as all the other children had. His hair seemed to have been cut off, and now, although it was long and hanging down on his shoulders, it was not yet long enough to be braided. Instead of being naked, as most boys of his age in the camp were, this boy wore leggings and a shirt of buckskin. He had a pleasant, intelligent face.