Just as he was hurrying down a steep bank his foot caught in a vine, and he was hurled forward with such violence that his head, coming in contact with the hard ground, received such a blow that he was rendered unconscious.
Frank never knew just how long he remained insensible. It might have been only a few minutes, or perhaps half an hour slipped by while he lay there. When he finally opened his eyes he looked up into a dusky face, and realized that it belonged to an Indian!
CHAPTER XVII
AT THE CAMPFIRE OF THE CREES
Frank was not at all alarmed. In the first place, he had been assured by Mr. Mabie that these Crees were not inclined to be hostile. Then, again, he saw that it was no fierce face of a warrior that bent over him, but the pitying one of a child.
"Hello! Who are you?" he asked, a little weakly, for his head was still swimming more or less from his shock.
"Little Mink," came the reply, though the boy apparently had to nerve himself to keep from running away.
"And you found me knocked out, did you? What are you doing here, Little Mink?" Frank sat up as he spoke, though he realized that he would be unsteady on his feet when he tried to stand.