“Are you Woodpecker?” exclaimed Jem gladly. “My Mother has told me about you.”
The Indian nodded, and, tearing a strip from his blanket, he dipped it in a spring of water which was near at hand, and bound it firmly round the boy’s swollen ankle. “The Mother of my young brother is very sick?” he inquired.
“Yes,” replied Jem, “and she is waiting for the medicine, and I cannot fetch it.” He winked bravely to keep back the tears which filled his eyes at the thought.
“Woodpecker will fetch the medicine. Woodpecker owes a big debt to his paleface sister, and Indians have grateful hearts,” said the red man gravely.
Jem eagerly held out to him a piece of paper, but Woodpecker shook his head.
“My brother shall speak himself to the medicine-man,” he said, and, raising the boy on his broad shoulders, he strode away quickly towards the village. It was scarcely daylight and no one was yet stirring, or the sight of an Indian carrying a white boy would have excited some curiosity.
The doctor’s sleepy assistant, who hastily answered Woodpecker’s loud rap on the door, rubbed his eyes and stared, but he had a wholesome awe of such a visitor, and, making up the medicine, delivered it to Jem with unusual speed.
The second Indian had disappeared on the way to the doctor’s, and the two strangely-matched companions immediately set out on their return journey through the forest, which was rapidly traversed by Woodpecker, and by four o’clock in the morning he set Jem down on the threshold of his Father’s door.
“Will you not stay and see how Mother is? Father would like to thank you,” said Jem.
“Not now,” replied Woodpecker, taking with a grave and courteous smile the small hand extended to him, “but say to my good white sister that her Indian brother does not forget kindness and that Woodpecker will return.”