“What’s the matter, Yan?”

“I’m sick—­I——­”

Caleb took his arm.  It was wet.  A match was struck.

“Hallo, you’re bleeding.”

“Yes, he had me—­he caught me up the tree.  I—­I—­thought I was a goner.”

All interest was now turned from the dead Lynx to the wounded boy.

“Let’s get him to the water.”

“Guess the camp well is the nearest.”

Caleb and Sam took care of Yan, while the others brought the Lynx.  Yan grew better as they moved slowly homeward.  He told all about the attack of the Lynx.

“Gosh!  I’d ‘a’ been scared out o’ my wits,” said Sam.

“Guess I would, too,” added Caleb, to the surprise of the Tribe; “up there, helpless, with a wounded Lynx—­I tell you!”

“Well, I was scared—­just as scared as I could be,” admitted Yan.

At camp a blazing fire gave its lurid light.  Cold water was handy and Yan’s bleeding arm was laid bare.  He was shocked and yet secretly delighted to see what a mauling he had got, for his shirt sleeve was soaked with blood, and the wondering words of his friends was sweetest music to his ears.

Caleb and the city boy dressed his wounds, and when washed they did not look so very dreadful.

They were too much excited to sleep for an hour at least, and as they sat about the fire—­that they did not need but would not dream of doing without—­Yan found no lack of enthusiasm in the circle, and blushed with pleasure to be the hero of the camp.  Guy didn’t see anything to make so much fuss about, but Caleb said, “I knowed it; I always knowed you was the stuff, after the night you went to Garney’s grave.”

XXXI

On the Old Camp Ground

It was threatening to rain again in the morning and the Indians expected to tramp home heavy laden in the wet.  But their Medicine Man had a surprise in store.  “I found an old friend not far from here and fixed it up with him to take us all home in his wagon.”  They walked out to the edge of the rough land and found a farm wagon with two horses and a driver.  They got in, and in little less than a hour were safely back to the dear old camp by the pond.

The rain was over now, and as Caleb left for his own home he said: 

“Say, boys, how about that election for Head Chief?  I reckon it’s due now.  Suppose you wait till to-morrow afternoon at four o’clock an’ I’ll show you how to do it.”

That night Yan and his friend were alone in their teepee.  His arm was bound up, and proud he was of those bandages and delighted with the trifling red spots that appeared yet on the last layer; but he was not in pain, nor, indeed, the worse for the adventure, for, thanks to his thick shirt, there was no poisoning.  He slept as usual till long after midnight, then awoke in bed with a peculiar feeling of well-being and clearness of mind.  He had no