"Recta," said Daddy brightening. "Recta, Miss Orrecta Lippincott. May be, Honey, with good nussing I shall make out fur tu stand it. 'Tween you and me, there's nuthin like good nussin, after the bones is all set proper."
His wise young nurse did not think it worth while to remind the invalid that not one of his bones had been broken, but she assiduously set herself to work to meet his accumulating wants. With liniments and bandages, and cooling drinks, and consoling words, she stood patiently over him, until near the midnight hour, he fell asleep.
Shading the lamp, so that scarcely a ray of light was visible, Little Wolf curled in behind the window curtain, where she could peep through the crevices of the blinds out on the distant stars and ever shifting clouds, which in the solitude of the night, speak so eloquently to the human heart.
Calm and cold was the still hour. The warm, thawing winds had ceased to blow, the eaves had ceased their droppings and were beautifully fringed with icicles. The snow had become crusted over, but so slightly, indeed, that the lightest footfall would crush the treacherous coating, and the cracking of the icy fragments betray the presence of prowlers.
By such sounds as we have described, Little Wolf's meditations were at length disturbed. Indistinctly at first, but soon with unmistakable clearness, she recognized approaching footsteps.
Daddy's room overlooked the stable, and in that quarter, a human figure was just visible. Slowly and stealthily it drew near; and now with dilated eyes and quickly beating heart, the watcher peered eagerly into the darkness. Nearer, and still nearer the form approached, until close against the house, just where she could conveniently note every motion, it paused. A moment of suspense, and a small flame shot up revealing Hank Glutter in the act of firing the house.
Quick as thought Little Wolf sprang for her pistol, which to gratify Daddy she had stored in his room; and hiding it in the folds of her dress she flew to meet the incendiary.
During the few seconds consumed in reaching the spot, Hank had disappeared, and having strong suspicions that he meditated mischief to Black Hawk, Little Wolf scattered the pile of slowly burning faggots, (the fire not having yet communicated itself to the building), and made a dash for the stable.
Hank was there just in the act of lighting a match. He had completely surrounded Black Hawk with hay and straw, and, in an instant more, the helpless animal would have been enveloped in flames.
"Mr. Glutter, the brewery is on fire!" shouted Little Wolf breathlessly.