“The voice sounded like that of Fergus,” said Archie, “but I can see nothing for smoke now. Is that a man on the ground over there?”
“Don’t know, Archie. Out o’ the way, lad; there’s another chance. Must get closer this time.”
The tide of the chase swept on with irresistible fury, and not one of all the band saw that the man who had fallen did not rise.
Following close in rear, and profoundly excited with this new and wild experience of life, came Little Bill, galloping along on his pony.
The poor boy had either greatly benefited by his recent adventures, or a change had taken place in his constitution, for he rode with ease, and found that he could walk considerable distances without the old weary feeling of exhaustion.
As Little Bill passed over the prairie, which resembled a field of battle where, not men, but buffaloes had been the combatants, he came suddenly upon the dismounted hunter, who lay prone upon his face.
“Poor man!” thought Little Bill, pulling up and dismounting, “he seems to have been badly stunned.”
Stooping down he turned the fallen man over on his back with some difficulty, and then discovered, to his consternation, that it was young Duncan McKay, and that blood was flowing from a wound in his side.
The shock at first deprived Billie of the power to do anything, but in a very few minutes his strong common sense returned, and his first act was to open Duncan’s coat and stanch the wound. This he accomplished by means of a strip torn off the poor man’s cotton shirt, and the long red worsted belt with which the hunter’s capote was bound. Then he took from his pocket a small bottle of water, with which he had provided himself in case of need, and poured a little into Duncan’s mouth.
The result of these operations was that the fallen man opened his eyes after a while, raised himself on one elbow, and looked round in a dazed manner.