“He must have hit his head on a rock all right,” he declared. “But the cut isn’t deep. It’s mostly a flesh wound.”
“How’s his pulse?” Red inquired anxiously. “Is he still alive?”
“I think so. The pulse is so weak though that I hardly can catch it. White Nose and Eagle Feather evidently thought he was dead or they wouldn’t have gone off.”
“What’ll we do?” Dan asked. “Go for help?”
“He needs a doctor right away. But I’m afraid to leave him here alone.”
“If he revives, he might roll off into the pool,” Dan agreed. “Then he’d sure drown.”
The three Cubs huddled about the prone figure, uncertain what to do. Aside from their fears for Old Miquel they knew that their own long absence from the Cub camp might have occasioned considerable alarm.
By now they had lost all track of time, but they were certain more than two hours had elapsed since they had left Webster City. Soon it would be time for the Pack pow-pow to start. With three Cubs absent, the Den 1 boys would be frantic.
Dan searched in the darkness until he found the Navajo blanket which belonged to Professor Sarazen. This he used as an additional covering over the old Indian.
“We can’t leave him alone, that’s sure,” Brad said with decision. “Dan, you and Red, hot-foot it for the camp. I’ll stay here.”