Big Otter knew that full consciousness had returned. He waited while Lumley, gently paddling with his legs, got them into a horizontal position.
“Now!” cried Lumley.
The Indian pulled—softly at first, then vigorously, and Lumley slid fairly on the ice. The rest, though still dangerous, was easy. In a few minutes more the red-man had the pale-face stripped beside a rousing fire in the wigwam—and thus he brought him back to life from the very gates of death.
“You have saved me, my good friend,” said Lumley, when he began to recover.
“The Great Master of Life saved you,” returned the Indian. “He made use of me—for which I thank him.”
It was not until late on the following day that Lumley felt strong enough to return to the fort, and relate what had occurred. Then the plans for the future were laid before Big Otter, and, to the satisfaction of all parties, he agreed at once to fall in with them.
“But,” said he, “Big Otter will not stay. He loves the great wilderness too well to be content to live among the wooden wigwams of the pale-faces.”
“Well, we won’t bother ourselves on that point just now,” said Macnab, “and so, as that’s comfortably settled, I’ll pack up and away back to my mountain fort to get ready for a trip, with you and Lumley and Jessie, to Colorado.”