The Silver Canyon: A Tale of the Western Plains

by George Manville Fenn

  CHAPTER SIX.

  A SURGICAL OPERATION.

  Dr Lascelles' first movement was to run forward to the help of hischild, Bart being close behind.

  Then with the knowledge that where there is terrible odds against whichto fight, guile and skill are necessary, he paused for a moment, withthe intention of trying to find cover from whence he could make deadlyuse of his rifle. But with the knowledge that Maude must be in thehands of the Indians, whose savage nature he too well knew, his fatherlyinstinct admitted of no pause for strategy, and dashing forward, he ranswiftly towards the waggon, with Bart close upon his heels.

  The full extent of their peril was at once apparent, no less than twelvemounted Indians being at the head of the little valley in a group, everyman in full war-paint, and with his rifle across his knees as he satupon his sturdy Indian pony.

  Facing them were Maude, Joses, Juan, and the other two men, who hadapparently been taken by surprise, and who, rifle in hand, seemed to beparleying with the enemy.

  The sight of the reinforcement in the shape of Bart, and Dr Lascellesmade the Indians utter a loud "Ugh!" and for a moment they seemeddisposed to assume the offensive, but to Bart's surprise they only urgedtheir ponies forward a few yards, and then stopped.

  "Get behind the waggon, quick, my child," panted the Doctor, as Bartrushed up to his old companion's side.

  "They came down upon us all at once, master," said Joses. "They didn'tcome along the trail."

  "Show a bold front," exclaimed the Doctor; "we may beat them off."

  To his surprise, however, the Indians did not seem to mean fighting, oneof them, who appeared to be the chief, riding forward a few yards, andsaying something in his own language.

  "What does he say?" said the Doctor, impatiently.

  "I can't make him out," replied Joses. "His is a strange tongue to me."

  "He is hurt," exclaimed Bart. "He is wounded in the arm. I think he isasking for something."

  It certainly had that appearance, for the Indian was holding rifle andreins in his left hand, while the right arm hung helplessly by his side.

  It was like weakening his own little force to do such a thing, knowingas he did how treacherous the Indian could be, but this was no time forhesitating, and as it seemed to be as Bart had intimated, the Doctorrisked this being a manoeuvre on the part of the Indian chief, andholding his rifle ready, he stepped boldly forward to where the duskywarrior sat calm and motionless upon his horse.

  Upon going close up there was no longer any room for doubt. The chief'sarm was roughly bandaged, and the coarse cloth seemed to be eating intothe terribly swollen flesh.

  That was enough. All the Doctor's old instincts came at once to thefront, and he took the injured limb in his hand.

  He must have caused the Indian intense pain, but the finebronzed-looking fellow, who had features of a keen aquiline type, didnot move a muscle, while, as the Doctor laid his rifle up against arock, the little mounted band uttered in chorus a sort of grunt ofapproval.

  "It is peace, Bart," said the Doctor. "Maude, my child, get a bowl ofclean water, towels, and some bandages. Bart, get out my surgicalcase."

  As he spoke, he motioned to the chief to dismount, which he did,throwing himself lightly from his pony, not, as a European would, on theleft side of the horse, but on the right, the well-trained animalstanding motionless, and bending down its head to crop the nearestherbage.

  "Throw a blanket down upon that sage-brush, Joses," continued theDoctor; and this being done, the latter pointed to it, making signs thatthe chief should sit down.

  He did not stir for a few moments, but gazed searchingly round at thegroup, till he saw Maude come forward with a tin bowl of clean water andthe bandages, followed by Bart, who had in his hand a little surgicalcase. Then he took a few steps forward, and seated himself, laying hisrifle down amongst the short shrubby growth, while Juan, Sam, and Harryon the one side, the mounted Indians upon the other, looked curiouslyon.

  Once there was a low murmur among the latter, as the Doctor drew a keen,long knife from its sheath at his belt; but the chief did not wince, andall were once more still.

  "He has been badly hurt in a fight," said the Doctor, "and the roughsurgery of his tribe or his medicine-man does not act."

  "That's it, master," said Joses, who was standing close by with rifleready in case of treachery. "His medicine-man couldn't tackle that, andthey think all white men are good doctors. It means peace, master."

  He pointed behind the Doctor as he spoke, and it was plain enough thatat all events for the present the Indians meant no harm, for two trottedback, one to turn up a narrow rift that the little exploring party hadpassed unnoticed in the night, the other to go right on towards theentrance of the rough Horse-shoe.

  "That means scouting, does it not?" said Bart.

  "I think so," replied the Doctor. "Yes; these Indians are friendly, butwe must be on our guard. Don't show that we are suspicious though.Help me as I dress this arm. Maude, my child, you had better go intothe waggon."

  "I am not afraid, father," she said, quietly.

  "Stay, then," he said. "You can be of use, perhaps."

  He spoke like this, for, in their rough frontier life, the girl had hadmore than one experience of surgery. Men had been wounded in fightswith the Indians; others had suffered from falls and tramplings fromhorses, while on more than one occasion the Doctor had had to deal withterrible injuries, the results of gorings from fierce bulls. For it isa strange but well-known fact in those parts, that the domestic cattlethat run wild from the various corrals or enclosures, and take to theplains, are ten times more dangerous than the fiercest bison or buffalo,as they are commonly called, that roam the wilds.

  Meanwhile the rest of the band leaped lightly down from their ponies,and paying not the slightest heed to the white party, proceeded togather wood and brush to make themselves a fire, some unpacking buffalomeat, and one bringing forward a portion of a prong-horn antelope.

  The Doctor was now busily examining his patient's arm, cutting away therough bandages, and laying bare a terrible injury.

  He was not long in seeing its extent, and he knew that if some necessarysteps were not taken at once, mortification of the limb would set in,and the result would be death.

  The Indian's eyes glittered as he keenly watched the Doctor's face. Heevidently knew the worst, and it was this which had made him seek whitehelp, though of course he was not aware how fortunate he had been in hishaphazard choice. He must have been suffering intense pain, but not anerve quivered, not a muscle moved, while, deeply interested, Joses camecloser, rested his arms upon the top of his rifle, and looked down.

  "Why, he's got an arrow run right up his arm all along by the bone,master," exclaimed the frontier man; "and he has been trying to pull itout, and it's broken in."

  "Right, Joses," said the Doctor, quietly; "and worse than that, the headof the arrow is fixed in the bone."

  "Ah, I couldn't tell that," said Joses, coolly.

  "I wish I could speak his dialect," continued the Doctor. "I shall haveto operate severely if his arm is to be saved, and I don't want him orhis men to pay me my fee with a crack from a tomahawk."

  "Don't you be afraid of that, master. He won't wince, nor say a word.You may do what you like with him. Injuns is a bad lot, but they've gotwonderful pluck over pain."

  "This fellow has, at all events," said the Doctor. "Maude, my child, Ithink you had better go."

  "If you wish it, father, I will," she replied simply; "but I could helpyou, and I should not be in the least afraid."

  "Good," said the Doctor, laconically, as he lowered the injured armafter bathing it free from the macerated leaves and bark with which ithad been bound up. Then with the Indian's glittering eyes followingevery movement, he took from his leather case of surgical instruments,all still wonderfully bright and kept in a most perfect state, acurious-looking pair of forceps with rough handles, and a couple ofshort-bladed, very keen kn
ives.

  "Hah!" said Joses, with a loud expiration of his breath, "them's likethe pinchers a doctor chap once used to pull out a big aching tooth ofmine, and he nearly pulled my head off as well."

  "No; they were different to these, Joses," said the Doctor, quietly, ashe took up a knife. "Feel faint, Bart?"

  The lad blushed now. He had been turning pale.

  "Well, I did feel a little sick, sir. It was the sight of that knife.It has all gone now."

  "That's right, my boy. Always try and master such feelings as these.Now I must try and make him understand what I want to do. Give me thatpiece of stick, Bart, it will do to imitate the arrow."

  Bart handed the piece of wood, which the Doctor shortened, and then,suiting the action to his words, he spoke to the chief:

  "The arrow entered here," he said, pointing to a wound a little abovethe Indian's wrist, "and pierced right up through the muscles, to buryitself in the bone just here."

  As he spoke, he pushed the stick up outside the arm along the coursethat the arrow had taken, and holding the end about where he consideredthe head of the arrow to be.

  For answer the Indian gave two sharp nods, and said something in his owntongue which no one understood.

  "Then," continued the Doctor, "you, or somebody else, in trying toextract the arrow, have broken it off, and it is here in the arm, atleast six inches and the head."

  As he spoke, he now broke the stick in two, throwing away part, andholding the remainder up against the Indian's wounded arm.

  Again the chief nodded, and this time he smiled.

  "Well, we understand one another so far," said the Doctor, "and he seesthat I know what's the matter. Now then, am I to try and cure it? Whatwould you like me to do?"

  He pointed to the arm as he spoke, and then to himself, and the Indiantook the Doctor's hand, directed it to the knife, and then, pointing tohis arm, drew a line from the mouth of the wound right up to his elbow,making signs that the Doctor should make one great gash, and take thearrow out.

  "All right, my friend, but that is not quite the right way," said theDoctor. "You trust me then to do my best for you?"

  He took up one of the short-bladed knives as he spoke, and pointed tothe arm.

  The Indian smiled and nodded, his face the next moment becoming sternand fixed as if he were in terrible pain, and needed all his fortitudeto bear it.

  "Going to cut it out, master?" said Joses, roughly.

  "Yes."

  "Let's give the poor beggar a comforter then," continued Joses. "If hescalps us afterwards along with his copper crew, why, he does, but let'sshow him white men are gentlemen."

  "What are you going to do?" said the Doctor, wonderingly.

  "Show you directly," growled Joses, who leisurely filled a short,home-made wooden pipe with tobacco, lit it at the Indian's fire, whichwas now crackling merrily, and returned to offer it to the chief, whotook it with a short nod and a grunt, and began to smoke rapidly.

  "That'll take a bit o' the edge off it," growled Joses. "Shall I holdhis arm?"

  "No; Bart, will do that," said the Doctor, rolling up his sleeves andplacing water, bandages, and forceps ready. "Humph! he cannot bend hisarm. Hold it like that, Bart--firmly, my lad, and don't flinch. Iwon't cut you."

  "I'll be quite firm, sir," said Bart, quietly; and the Doctor raised hisknife.

  As he did so, he glanced at where nine Indians were seated round thefire, expecting to see that they would be interested in what was takingplace; but, on the contrary, they were to a man fully occupied inroasting their dried meat and the portions of the antelope that they hadcut up. The operation on the chief did not interest them in the least,or if it did, they were too stoical to show it.

  The Doctor then glanced at his savage patient, and laying one hand uponthe dreadfully swollen limb, he received a nod of encouragement, forthere was no sign of quailing in the chief's eyes; but as the Doctorapproached the point of the knife to a spot terribly discoloured, justbelow the elbow, the Indian made a sound full of remonstrance, andpointing to the wound above the wrist, signed to his attendant that heshould slit the arm right up.

  "No, no," said the Doctor, smiling. "I'm not going to make a terriblewound like that. Leave it to me."

  He patted the chief on the shoulder as he spoke, and once more theIndian subsided into a state of stolidity, as if there were nothing thematter and he was not in the slightest pain.

  Here I pause for a few moments as I say--Shall I describe what theDoctor did to save the Indian's life, or shall I hold my hand?

  I think I will go on, for there should be nothing objectionable in a fewwords describing the work of a man connected with one of the noblestprofessions under the sun.

  There was no hesitation. With one quick, firm cut, the Doctor dividedthe flesh, piercing deep down, and as he cut his knife gave a sharpgrate.

  "Right on the arrowhead, Bart," he said quietly; and, withdrawing hisknife, he thrust a pair of sharp forceps into the wound, and seemed asif he were going to drag out the arrow, but it was only to divide theshaft. This he seized with the other forceps, and drew out of thebleeding opening--a piece nearly five inches long, which came awayeasily enough.

  Then, without a moment's hesitation, he sponged the cut for a while, anddirectly after, guiding them with the index finger of his left hand, hethrust the forceps once more into the wound.

  There was a slight grating noise once again, a noise that Bart, as hemanfully held the arm, seemed to feel go right through every nerve witha peculiar thrill. Then it was evident that the Doctor had fast hold ofthe arrowhead and he drew hard to take it out.

  "I thought so," he said, "it is driven firmly into the bone."

  As he spoke, he worked his forceps slightly to and fro, to loosen thearrowhead, and then, bearing firmly upon it, drew it out--an ugly, keenpiece of nastily barbed iron, with a scrap of the shaft and some deersinew attached.

  The Doctor examined it attentively to see that everything had come away,and uttered a sigh of satisfaction, while the only sign the Indian gavewas to draw a long, deep breath.

  "There, Mr Tomahawk," said the Doctor, smiling, as he held the arm overthe bowl, and bathed the injury tenderly with fresh relays of water,till it nearly ceased bleeding; "that's better than making a cut allalong your arm, and I'll be bound to say it feels easier already."

  The Indian did not move or speak, but sat there smoking patiently tillthe deep cut was sewn up, padded with lint, and bound, and the woundabove the wrist, where the arrow had entered, was also dressed and boundup carefully.

  "There: now your arm will heal," said the Doctor, as he contrived asling, and placed the injured limb at rest. "A man with such a finehealthy physique will not suffer much, I'll be bound. Hah, it's quite atreat to do some of the old work again."

  The chief waited patiently until the Doctor had finished. Then rising,he stood for a few moments with knitted brows, perfectly motionless; andthe frontier man, seeing what was the matter, seemed to be about toproffer his arm, but the Indian paid no heed to him, merely gazingstraight before him till the feeling of faintness had passed away, whenhe stooped and picked up the piece of arrow shaft and the head, walkedwith them to where his followers were sitting, and held them out forthem to see. Then they were passed round with a series of grunts, dulyexamined, and finally found a resting-place in a little beaver-skin bagat the chiefs girdle, along with his paints and one or two pieces ofso-called "medicine" or charms.

  Meanwhile the Doctor was busy putting away his instruments, feelinggreatly relieved that the encounter with the Indians had been of sofriendly a nature.

  At the end of a few minutes the chief came back with the large buffalorobe that had been strapped to the back of his pony, spread it beforethe Doctor, placed on it his rifle, tomahawk, knife, and pouch, andsigned to him that they were his as a present.

  "He means that it is all he has to give you, sir," said Bart, who seemedto understand the chief's ways quicker than his guardian,
and whoeagerly set himself to interpret.

  "Yes, that seems to be his meaning," replied the Doctor. "Well, let'ssee if we can't make him our friend."

  Saying which the Doctor stooped down, picked up the knife and hatchetand placed them in the chiefs belt, his rifle in the hollow of his arm,and finally his buffalo robe over his shoulders, ending by giving himhis hand smilingly, and saying the one word _friend_, _friend_, two orthree times over.

  The chief made no reply, but gravely stalked back to his followers, asif affronted at the refusal of his gift, and the day passed with himlying down quietly smoking in the sage-brush, while the occupants of theDoctor's little camp went uneasily about their various tasks, ending bydividing the night into watches, lest their savage neighbours shouldtake it into their heads to depart suddenly with the white man'shorses--a favourite practice with Indians, and one that in this casewould have been destructive of the expedition.