John shook his head and groaned, thus expressing his sympathy. Then, ere he realized what was happening, David found himself alone again, for the young Indian had arisen and glided to the door in what seemed one movement. David sighed. He craved companionship and even John was better than no one.
But the Indian was soon back, the palm of one hand filled with a yellow-brown grease with which he began to anoint the boy’s face.
“Much good,” he explained.
“It smells not good,” grumbled David.
But he was glad of the service, and, indeed, the smarting and burning of the lacerations ceased as though by magic. Then John bade him remove his clothes and rubbed the salve wherever a bruise showed. Afterwards, at David’s request, he brought water in a fold of bark. Refreshed, David sought information of his friends, but the Indian looked blank and shook his head and David gave up.
The old squaw appeared with a few live embers and an armful of fagots and made a fire, and to escape the smoke, David arose, not without a groan, and went outside and
