“In the dark?” said Allan, turning to the lad. “How did you do it?”
“Huh!” grunted the lad in a tone of indifference. “See him eyes.”
Already the Indians were preparing a stretcher out of blankets and two saplings. Here Mandy came to their help, directing their efforts so that with the least hurt to the boy he was lifted to his stretcher.
As they were departing the father came close to Mandy, and, holding out his hand, said in fairly good English:
“You—good to my boy. You save him—to-day. All alone maybe he die. You give him food—drink. Sometime—perhaps soon—me pay you.”
“Oh,” cried Mandy, “I want no pay.”
“No money—no!” cried the Indian, with scorn in his voice. “Me save you perhaps—sometime. Save you—save you, man. Me Big Chief.” He drew himself up his full height. “Much Indian follow me.” He shook hands with Mandy again, then with her husband.
“Big Piegan Chief?” inquired her husband.
“Piegan!” said the Indian with hearty contempt. “Me no Piegan—me Big Chief. Me—” He paused abruptly, turned on his heel and, flinging himself on to his pony, disappeared in the shadows.
“He's jolly well pleased with himself, isn't he?” said Cameron.