CHAPTER XVI.
CROWFOOT MAKES MEDICINE.
Although taken by surprise, the man looked at his benumbed and bleedinghand a moment, then pulled from his neck a handkerchief tied there andwrapped it around the mutilated member. By this time Hodge had his ownpistol out, and Bland was covered.
"You're lucky to get off with your life, you treacherous cur!" he cried."Now make tracks, and hurry about it, too."
"All right," said the leader of the ruffians, still with amazingcoolness. "But you pays dear for this hand--you and the gent inside whofires the shot."
With that he turned his back and hastily strode away, the handkerchiefalready dripping with blood and leaving a red trail behind him.
Hodge watched until the hurrying man disappeared down the valley.Reentering the cabin, he found old Joe standing near the table on whichstill lay Bart's Winchester. The Indian had refilled his pipe and wassmoking again in his most imperturbable manner.
"Crowfoot," said Hodge, with sincere gratitude, "I owe you my life. It'slucky for me you fired just when you did. An instant more and Blandwould have shot me down. How did you happen to be so quick with theshot?"
"Look um rifle over," grunted the old man. "Pick um rifle up. When BlackEyes him go out, Joe think mebbe white man act crooked. Joe watch himwhite man. When white man tries to shoot, Joe him shoot."
"You're a jewel, Crowfoot!" declared Bart; "but this thing will bringtrouble to the cabin in a hurry. As soon as Bland can have his handcared for, he will lead those ruffians over here to wipe us out. Now isyour chance to get away."
"Oh, no great hurry," returned Crowfoot. "Plenty time, plenty time."
"On the contrary, there may be very little time. If you're going, youhad better go at once."
"Plenty time," persisted the old man placidly. "Joe too old to hurry.They no come right away. Mebbe Joe him look around a little."
As the old fellow was leaving the cabin, Bart called:
"Here's your own rifle, Joe, standing in the corner. Don't you want totake it?"
"Leave him there now," returned the redskin. "Take him bimeby."
Outside the door, leaning against the wall, were a pick and spade. ToBart's surprise, the old man picked these implements up and shoulderedthem; after which he found Bland's revolver where it had fallen on beingknocked from the man's hand by the bullet, and took that along. Crowfootturned northward toward a tangled wild thicket, into which Bart saw himdisappear.
"Well, of all peculiar things for him to do!" muttered Hodge, completelypuzzled. "What the dickens is he up to?"
This question bothered Bart not a little, and, after a time, having madesure none of the ruffians were yet approaching from the south, Bartcaught up his rifle and ran swiftly toward the thicket. On entering thetangled underbrush, he soon came in sight of Crowfoot, who, although hemust have heard the other approaching, paid no attention whatever. Thedefender of the mines paused in amazement as he noted the Indian'soccupation, for old Joe was busily at work, engaged with pick andshovel, digging in the ground.
"What in the name of all mysteries are you doing, Crowfoot?" askedHodge, as he approached and stood nearer.
"Dig a little," returned the old man, with something like a jokingtwinkle in his keen black eyes. "Mebbe get some exercise. Strong Hearthim great on exercise. Crowfoot hear Strong Heart tell exercise much bigthing."
Now, Hodge knew well enough that the aged redskin was not expending somuch energy and labor in mere exercise, and he lingered to watch a whilelonger. Pretty soon old Joe unearthed a long root that ran beneath theground, which he immediately seized and dragged forth with considerablegrunting. Hodge noted then that he had one or two similar roots lyingnear.
"Mebbe him be 'nuf," observed Crowfoot, as he severed the last rootunearthed and placed it with the others. "Think him be. Joe he getplenty exercise for to-day."
Then, abandoning the pick and shovel where he had dropped them, the oldman gathered up the roots and started to retrace his steps to the cabin.Still wondering at Crowfoot's strange actions, Hodge followed.
The sunshine lay warm on the valley, which seemed deserted save forthemselves.
"Man git hand hurt, him no hurry back much," observed Crowfoot.
"Not yet," said Hodge. "But he will come and bring his dogs with himsoon enough."
When the cabin was reached Crowfoot stood some moments looking at alittle pile of wood lying in a corner near the open fireplace.
"You build a fire, Black Eyes," he said. "Joe him cold--him cold."
"Well, your blood must be getting thin," declared Hodge. "You can bakeout in the sun to-day if you want to."
"No like sun bake," was the retort. "Too slow; not right kind. Want firebake."
"Oh, all right," said Bart, ready to humor the old man. "I will have afire directly."
To his surprise, while he was starting the fire, old Joe brought in morewood that had been gathered in a little pile outside and threw it downin the corner. Several times he came with an armful of wood, butfinally, seemed satisfied.
"There's a good hot fire for you, Joe," said Hodge. "Now toast yourself,if you want to."
"Ugh!" grunted the Indian. "You keep watch. Keep eye open wide. Mebbebad palefaces come soon."
Bart knew this was a good suggestion, and he proceeded to watch for thepossible approach of the enemy. At the same time, he occasionally turnedfrom the open doorway to observe what Crowfoot was about. The old Indiandid not seem very anxious to warm himself at the fire. Instead of that,he took the roots he had dug and held them toward the fireplace, turningthem over and over and warming them thoroughly, after which he beat offthe particles of dirt that clung to them. While he was beating one ofthe roots by holding it toward the fire, he had the others arranged onthe flat stones of the hearth quite near the blaze, where they alsowould receive warmth from the flames.
At last, his curiosity reaching a point where he could repress it nolonger, Hodge again asked old Joe what he was doing.
For some minutes the Indian did not reply. Once or twice he grunted tohimself, but finally said:
"Joe him make medicine. Sometime him big medicine maker."
"Oh, so that's it," said Hodge. "You are making medicine for yourrheumatism?"
"Ugh!" was the answer to this.
Bart was surprised and almost annoyed as the day dragged on and theruffians failed to appear. It seemed remarkable that they should delaythe attack so long; still, he was confident that it must come sooner orlater. All through the day after securing his roots old Joe worked overthem patiently by the fire. He dried them and turned them over and over.And, while he was handling one of them and turning it before the heatlike a thing he was toasting, the others remained in a long mound of hotashes. The patience of the Indian over such a trifling task wassomething to wonder at.
As night came on Crowfoot paused to say:
"Now, Black Eyes, keep sharp watch. Bad white men come to-night. Mebbethey try to ketch um sleeping."
The first half of the night, however, passed without alarm. During thesehours the old redskin continued to putter with his roots, which hecarefully scraped with a keen knife. At midnight he buried them in theashes, on which hot coals were heaped, and then directed Bart to liedown and sleep.
"Joe him watch now," said the old fellow.
Trusting everything to the redskin, Hodge rolled himself in a blanketand slept soundly for two hours. He was awakened by Joe, who stirred himwith a moccasin foot.
"Get up, Black Eyes," said the old fellow, in a whisper. "Pretty soon wefight."
"Those ruffians?" questioned Bart, as he leaped to his feet.
"They coming," declared Crowfoot.
He was right. Bland and his desperadoes were creeping on the cabin,hoping to take its defenders by surprise. Crowfoot pointed them out, andwhen they were near enough, Hodge called from the window for them tohalt. Realizing they were discovered, they sprang up and charged.
Instantly Bart and the redskin opened fire on them, Hodge
working hisrepeater swiftly and accurately, while the clear spang of Crowfoot'srifle was heard at irregular intervals. The ruffians were unprepared forsuch a defense, and, as they saw several of their number fall and otherswere wounded, they halted, wavered, then turned and fled. Looking fromthe window, the starlight showed the defenders a few wounded mendragging themselves away.
"Pretty good," said Joe. "No more bother to-night."
With which he turned from the window, uncovered his roots, and replantedthem in a fresh pile of hot ashes.
Frank Merriwell's Triumph; Or, The Disappearance of Felicia Page 17