“I don’t know, Bob. I haven’t looked at it,” Joseph answered weakly. Much of his strength had ebbed away with his blood, though the flow had been largely checked by Deerfoot’s treatment. The Indian was now engaged in bandaging the wound itself. His idea was to fix his young friend temporarily so that he would be safe until he could receive much better treatment.
“Look at yourself, Joe,” urged Robert. “You’re certainly a sight.”
With an effort Joseph raised himself upon one elbow and glanced at his blood-stained leg. One look was enough, however, for with a quick intake of his breath Joseph suddenly fainted away.
“Now I’ve done it,” exclaimed Robert. “I ought to have known better than to say a thing like that.”
“He all right,” said Deerfoot stoically.
“But he has fainted,” Robert protested. “How can we bring him to?”
“No try,” said Deerfoot. “Let him stay fainted.”
“Won’t it hurt him any?”
“No,” said Deerfoot, and he had apparently dismissed the subject from his mind, for he turned his back on the two brothers and glanced out over the battlefield.
As long as Black Hawk’s band remained in their present position the three volunteers were safe where they were. They were crouched upon the ground behind the log which provided ample protection. Behind them were their own men, while they were well screened from the enemy.