"Musq'oosis sick," returned the boy, without a flicker of expression. He spoke good English.
"Where?"
"Jus' 'cross Little Prairie, I guess twenty miles from river."
"What did you come to me for?" said Sam. "There were white men nearer. I don't know anything about doctoring."
"Musq'oosis say want nobody come but Sam," answered the boy. "Him say doctor got not'ing for him. Him say time has come. Him say want friend to close his eyes. Him say mak' Sam mad before. Him sorry. Want Sam tak' his hand before he go."
"Better go right back," suggested Ed with quick sympathy. "The poor old guy!"
Sam debated the matter scowling. Musq'oosis had made him angry, and he distrusted him. Yet he could not but be drawn to the quaint little philosopher, too. He could not but remember that Musq'oosis had been kind to him at a time when he most needed it.
"How did it happen?" he asked, partly softened.
The boy illustrated his story with the graphic gesticulation of his race.
"Yes'day Musq'oosis not wake up at all. I got shake him in his blanket. Wake moch slow. Say feel moch bad. All tam sleepy. Can't stan' up. Can't eat not'ing. So we put him in the wagon and go.