He bent over the motionless body, and put the blade of his knife to the Indian's lips.
"He does not stir," he continued, with an air of discouragement; "I am afraid I shall have some difficulty in bringing him round."
In a few minutes, however, he looked at the blade of his knife and saw that it was slightly tarnished.
"Come, he is not dead yet; so long as the soul holds to the body, there is hope, so I will have a try."
After this aside, John Davis fetched some water in his hat, mixed a small quantity of spirits with it, and began carefully laving the wound; this duty performed, he sounded it and found it of no great depth, and the abundant loss of blood had in all probability brought on the state of unconsciousness. Reassured by this perfectly correct reflection, he pounded some oregano leaves between two stones, made a species of cataplasm of them, laid it on the wound, and secured it with a strip of bark; then unclenching the wounded man's teeth with the blade of his knife, he thrust in the mouth of his flask, and made him drink a quantity of spirits.
Success almost immediately crowned the American's tentatives, for the Chief gave vent to a deep sigh, and opened his eyes almost instantaneously.
"Bravo!" John exclaimed, delighted at the unhoped for result he had achieved. "Courage, Chief, you are saved. By Jove! You may boast of having come back a precious long distance."
For some minutes the Indian remained stunned, looking around him absently, without any consciousness of the situation in which he was, or of the objects that surrounded him.
John attentively watched him, ready to give him help again, were it necessary; but it was not so. By degrees the Redskin appeared to grow livelier; his eyes lost their vacant expression, he sat up and passed his hand over his dank brow.
"Is the fight over?" he asked.