Will's heart was suffused with anger. They were younger and smaller than he, but they had an infinite power to vex or cause pain. Nevertheless he clung to his resolution. He refused to show anger, and while it was by no means his disposition to turn one cheek when the other was smitten, he exhibited a patience of which he had not believed himself capable. He also showed a power that they did not possess. When some of the younger and friskier ponies sought to break away from the main herd and race up the river he soothed them by voice and touch and turned them back in such an amazing manner that the Indian boys brought some of the older warriors to observe his magic with horses.
Will saw the men watching, but he pretended not to notice. Nevertheless he felt that fate, after playing him so many bad tricks, was now doing him a good turn. He would exploit his power with animals to the utmost. Indians were always impressed with an unusual display of ability of any kind, and they felt that its possessor was endowed with magic. He walked freely among the ponies, which would have turned their heels on the Indian lads, and stroked their manes and noses.
The warriors went away without saying anything. The Indian boys returned to the village shortly after noon, but their place was taken by a fresh band, while Will remained on duty. Nor was he allowed to leave until long after twilight, when, surprised to find how weary he was, he dragged his feet to the tepee of Inmutanka, where he had venison, pemmican and water.
"Not so bad," he said to the old Indian. "I believe I'm a good herd for ponies, though I'd rather do it riding than walking."
"To-morrow you scrape hides with squaws," said Inmutanka.
Will was disappointed, but he recalled that after the threat of Heraka he should not expect to get off with such an easy task as the continual herding of ponies. Scraping hides would be terribly wearying and it would be a humiliation to put him with the old squaws. Nevertheless his heart was light. The fate of the white captive too often was speedy and horrible torture and death. He felt that the longer they were delayed, less was the likelihood that he would ever have to suffer them at all.
He was awakened at dawn, and as soon as he had eaten he was put to his task. Fresh buffalo hides were stretched tightly and staked upon the ground, the inner side up, and he and a dozen old squaws began the labor of scraping from them the last particles of flesh with small knives of bone.
He cut his hands, his back ached, the perspiration streamed from his face, and the squaws, far more expert than he, jeered at him continually. Warriors also passed and uttered contemptuous words in an unknown language. But Will, clinging to his resolution, pretended to take no notice. Long before the day was over every bone in him was aching and his hands were bleeding, but he made no complaint. When he returned to the tepee Inmutanka put a lotion on his hands.
"It good for you, but must not tell," he said.
"I wouldn't dream of telling," said Will fervently. "God bless you, Inmutanka. If there's any finer doctor than you anywhere in the world I never heard of him."