“My brother has discovered the thief,” he said. “And after all a thief is easily found among honest men.”
Slowly and deliberately his eye traveled round the circle of faces, keenly scrutinizing each in turn. When he came to Eagle Feather he paused, gazed fixedly at him, took a single step in his direction, and, suddenly leveling an accusing finger at him, cried in a loud voice:
“I have found him. This man is the thief.”
Slowly he walked up to the Indian, who remained stoically motionless, laid his hand upon his wrist and said in a clear ringing voice heard over the encampment:
“Eagle Feather, I arrest you in the name of the Queen!” And before another word could be spoken or a movement made Eagle Feather stood handcuffed, a prisoner.
CHAPTER XIV
“GOOD MAN—GOOD SQUAW”
“That boy is worse, Mrs. Cameron, decidedly worse, and I wash my hands of all responsibility.” The old army surgeon was clearly annoyed.
Mandy sat silent, weary with watching and weary with the conflict that had gone on intermittently during the past three days. The doctor was determined to have the gangrenous foot off. That was the simplest solution of the problem before him and the foot would have come off days ago if he had had his way. But the Indian boy had vehemently opposed this proposal. “One foot—me go die,” was his ultimatum, and through all the fever and delirium this was his continuous refrain. In this determination his nurse supported him, for she could not bring herself to the conviction that amputation was absolutely necessary, and, besides, of all the melancholy and useless driftwood that drives hither and thither with the ebb and flow of human life, she could imagine none more melancholy and more useless than an Indian crippled of a foot. Hence she supported the boy in his ultimatum, “One foot—me go die.”