But by and large, Hal got on not so badly with them. He had learned, after the first day, a series of gestures which indicated his wants, his likes, and his dislikes. To be sure, all the food they gave him, he disliked intensely, but as he was likely to starve unless he ate what was given him, he put a good face upon the matter and took what came as a rule. Also, he felt eternally grateful to them for having rescued him from a certain horrible death and nursed him back toward health.
Every few hours during the day the medicine man, a fat, pot-bellied old warrior, had come and sat at his side droning weird incantations over his recumbent body and making all sorts of fantastic gestures. Then he would proceed to delve into a calabash that he had brought with him, and bring out a smeary-looking mixture which he plastered on the patient’s wounded leg and hand. And before he terminated his visit he would raise another calabash to Hal’s lips, nodding for him to drink deeply of the bitter, herb-tasting fluid which it contained.
A FAT MEDICINE MAN MADE ALL SORTS OF FANTASTIC GESTURES OVER HAL.
Nevertheless, Hal continued to get better and, whether or not it was because of the medicine man’s mysterious magic, he was quite able to hobble out of the maloka on the second day of his convalescence.
It was, of course, quite a gala day in the little settlement. Men, women, and children stood about in a staring circle to watch their guest emerge. All small of stature, they looked up with awe at Hal’s towering physique and shock of red, curly hair.
He hobbled about the clearing, smiling brilliantly, though feeling dizzy and weak from his sickness and long confinement in the gloomy maloka. Nevertheless, he could not help smiling, for he felt ridiculous in his soiled and wrinkled flannels and a ten days’ growth of golden beard.
For quite a time the natives continued to follow him about, but seemed to tire of it toward afternoon and went back to their various pursuits. Meanwhile, Hal saw something that gladdened his heart—a river, which his guardians explained, with violent grunts and gestures, was a little river to the big river, or in other words, a small tributary.
The larger of the two Indians (his head just reached Hal’s elbow), whom Hal dubbed “Big Boy,” motioned to a canoe pulled up on the bank. After a series of gestures which represented a man paddling down the river, he looked straight up at the tall young man.
“You mean that canoe is for me?” Hal motioned the question. “For me to go back?” he added, pointing to himself and then to the river.