When, after completing the job, Dick looked up into the face of his “patient” and asked how it felt, while the brave may not have understood the exact words, at the same time he must have guessed the nature of the inquiry, for he nodded his head in the affirmative as though to admit that his condition had been made much more bearable.
“Now you have got a job on your hands!” sang out Roger, as he saw the other wounded warriors pressing forward, as though meaning to have their hurts looked after in the same fashion.
Dick was satisfied that this was not an effort thrown away. If he could make the Blackfeet understand that white men were not the unfeeling monsters they had been painted by the French fur-traders it would be a good thing. Besides, they knew not what their future might be, and the time was likely to come when a friend in the Indian camp would prove a profitable investment. ([Note 8].)
“We ought to call this camp Armstrong Hospital, I think!” said Roger, after it was all finished, and Dick had been secured to his tree near by.
“I hope my work wasn’t wholly wasted,” remarked Dick. “As they have built a fire it seems settled that we are to stay here to-night. Perhaps to-morrow they mean to take us to the other camp, where Lascelles said Williams is held a prisoner.”
“And on my part,” added the other captive, “I hope they will give us some of the meat they’ve started to cook. When I can catch his eye I want to ask Lascelles to get me a drink of water. My tongue seems to be sticking to the roof of my mouth.”
“If we could make one of the wounded Indians understand, I think they would do a little thing like that for us; but the Frenchman seems to be scowling blackly at me just now. Perhaps, after all, he is sorry about letting me dress the wounds of the braves; he may suspect that I’m getting too popular, and that it may somehow hurt his game in the end.”
“Who knows how that may work out?” declared Roger. “One thing is sure, we must keep our wits about us, and try to figure out a way to get free.”
Dick seemed to be of the same mind, for he nodded his head, and said:
“If we have half a chance we must try to escape to-night. That Canadian scout in the explorers’ camp, Drewyer, knows considerable about these Blackfoot Indians, and he told me they are very treacherous, often killing their captives as they take a freak, or the medicine man of the tribe has a pretended message from Manitou that they must be put to death. So we dare not trust them, but must escape by any means.”