“Huh,” grunted the Chief a second time with growing intelligence, and in an incredibly short space returned with water sufficiently hot and in sufficient quantity.
All unconscious of the admiring eyes that followed the swift and skilled movements of her capable hands, Mandy worked over the festering and fevered wound till, cleansed, soothed, wrapped in a cooling lotion, the limb rested easily upon a sling of birch bark and skins suggested and prepared by the Chief. Then for the first time the boy made a sound.
“Huh,” he grunted feebly. “Doctor—no good. Squaw—heap good. Me two foot—live—one foot—” he held up one finger—“die.” His eyes were shining with something other than the fever that drove the blood racing through his veins. As a dog's eyes follow every movement of his master so the lad's eyes, eloquent with adoring gratitude, followed his nurse as she moved about the wigwam.
“Now we must get that clean tent, Allan.”
“All right,” said her husband. “It will be no easy job, but we shall do our best. Here, Chief,” he cried, “get some of your young men to pitch another tent in a clean place.”
The Chief, eager though he was to assist, hesitated.
“No young men,” he said. “Get squaw,” and departed abruptly.
“No young men, eh?” said Cameron to his wife. “Where are they, then? I notice there are no bucks around.”
And so while the squaws were pitching a tent in a spot somewhat removed from the encampment, Cameron poked about among the tents and wigwams of which the Indian encampment consisted, but found for the most part only squaws and children and old men. He came back to his wife greatly disturbed.
“The young bucks are gone, Mandy. I must get after this thing quickly. I wish I had Jerry here. Let's see? You ask for a messenger to be sent to the fort for the doctor and medicine. I shall enclose a note to the Inspector. We want the doctor here as soon as possible and we want Jerry here at the earliest possible moment.”