Peter looked a ghastly sight, a generous portion of his hair torn out by the roots and blood trickling down his forehead.
A hasty examination showed that he was still alive and apparently without serious injury. Olive washed the stains from his face and rested his head on an improvised pillow. Then she went to the assistance of Preston and Mahmed.
With difficulty she removed the collapsed tent, for in the mêlée the Acting Chief had rolled over upon the folds of the canvas. He too looked a pretty object, for the old wounds on his head had reopened, while in addition he had been stabbed. Olive deftly dressed the injuries and turned to Mahmed.
She did not know what to make of the Indian boy. He was so chipped about that she was unaware whether he was alive or dead.
Olive was still engaged in doing her best to patch Mahmed up when Mrs. Shallop appeared upon the scene. Somehow she had contrived to put a dressing over her wound, although it must have been a difficult task to tie the knot that held the bandage in position.
"Bit of a mess, ain't it?" she remarked. "We'd best clean up a bit. How about heaving those blacks overboard?"
"Are they all dead?" asked the girl.
"Not a bit of it," was the unconcerned reply. "But they soon will be, so overboard with them."
"No," declared Olive firmly. "It's not right—it's murder."
"It would have been murder for us if they hadn't knuckled under," rejoined Mrs. Shallop. "When they come to their senses there'll be more trouble, you mark my words."