“Mother is very sick,” he said. “I’m awful afraid she will die. Father is lost in the woods. She wants him awful bad.”
The chief listened, apparently unmoved.
“Mother kept the little baby from dying.”
The chief glanced sharply at the little lad. “Huh! I go find him,” he said abruptly. He called his men. Together they consulted, apparently canvassing the situation and planning the search. Then, with swift expedition, they prepared for their tramp. In a very few minutes the chief and one of his men stood ready for their journey, the other man remaining in camp with the child. Before setting forth, the chief came to the boy.
“You go mother,” he said. “Good woman! Two day father he come back. Sure, two day. Tell mother. Good woman. Chief not forget baby.”
“Oh, thank you, Chief,” said the little boy, impulsively catching his hand. “I’ll tell Mother. She will be awfully thankful to you. Good-bye. Everything will be right now.”
“Huh!” grunted the chief, and with a wave of the hand he was gone.
“Hello, little one,” Paul called, catching sight of the Indian child standing shyly within the tent door. “Come on over here. Come on and see my pony.”
The child, with a fearlessness quite unusual among Indian children, came trotting to him. Paul was delighted to find he was not forgotten.
“I say, little chap, tell me your name again,” he said, dropping on his knees beside the youngster. The little chap gurgled a reply. “What is it?” Again a gurgle. Paul gave an answering gurgle. “Is that it?”