“You heard what Mayhew just said, and how the man who looked was wounded in the shoulder? Stop and think, and you will remember that he must be the one who had chased after Mayhew, and came back with a bullet wound in the muscles of his shoulder.”
“Which you dressed as neatly as any doctor could have done it,” said Roger.
“At the time the brave gave little sign that he was grateful,” continued Dick, as he figured things out; “but you know that all Indians practice hiding their real feelings. They think it weak to show signs of fear or anything like that. But, at the same time, an Indian can be grateful, and I believe that brave proved it.”
“He did, oh! he did!” exclaimed Roger, no longer groping in darkness since Dick had thrown light on the mystery. “He knew we were escaping, but he could not find it in his heart to betray the one who had been so kind to him! I shall never believe so badly of Indians after this. My father was right when he told me they could be reached by kindness; and surely he and Uncle Bob ought to know.”
Somehow all of them fell silent for some time. No doubt they were thinking how strangely they had been favored by Providence. ([Note 9].)
Several hours had elapsed since the escape, and they were some distance away from the scene of the adventure. The snow was more than ankle deep, and coming down at a furious rate.
Walking was difficult, especially since all of them were weary, and in great need of rest. Roger staggered at times, and once fell flat, though he hastened to assure the others, as he scrambled to his feet, that he had not suffered by his awkwardness.
“We will have to seek shelter of some sort,” declared Dick, finally.
Apparently the frontiersman was only waiting to hear something like this; for, as a grown man, he did not fancy being the first to call quits, as long as those boys saw fit to keep on tramping.
“It would not be a bad idea, I think,” he now remarked.