The Peril Finders Part 96

"Water and sponge all ready? That's right. Now then, we shall soon know. Stand in front of his head, Chris."

Then as soon as the boy was where he was directed to stand, stroking the poor beast's nose, the doctor took hold of the broken shaft with the forceps, made sure of the position of the flattened arrowhead, and then pa.s.sing the curved knife down by its side, made one firm cut through the skin and muscle, and the next moment the withdrawn arrow was thrown on the stones at their feet.

"Brave boy!" said the doctor loudly. "Why, he hardly winced. Now for the sponge and water. That's right," and he bathed and pressed the bleeding wound thoroughly. "There," he said; "I believe the poor brute really does understand. Let that bleed a little; it will help it to heal better. Now for the next."

This was a very different injury, for plainly enough to be seen just beneath the skin there lay fully six inches of a broken arrow.

The doctor pa.s.sed his hand over this, and the pony shivered a little; but it was only a very superficial flinch, and the doctor changed his knife for another lying in the leather case.

"Poor old fellow," he said. "I believe I could do anything to him. He must understand."

The two boys watched everything intently, and noted that the operator pinched up the skin and arrow together; then starting from the orifice where the missile had entered he drew the keen point along the shaft till it grated on the barbed head, dividing the skin cleanly the whole length of the arrow, which required no forceps to remove it, for it dropped down of its own weight.

"Why, Chris," cried the doctor, "you couldn't have borne this so patiently.--Now, hold up the bucket, Ned. That's the way. I dare say the sponging feels comforting and takes off the itching."

"But ought it to bleed, father?" asked Chris.

"No, no. The injury is only to the skin. There's very little harm done."

The third wound was far worse, and to get out the arrowhead the doctor had to cut deeply, with the result that the equine patient stamped angrily and whinnied and shook his head. But he stood firm, making no attempt to kick or bite, and as soon as the wound was being bathed, stood blinking and evidently enjoying having its muzzle smoothed.

Then came the long cut or tear on the poor brute's flank, an injury so tender that he winced and shivered at the slightest touch. But there was no cutting here, nothing but bathing and cleansing the place thoroughly, before the skin was drawn together by means of pins pa.s.sed through the edges and waxed silk wound round and round from head to point of the little pins. The skin of the other injuries was closed in the same way, and then the doctor made a fresh examination of the poor animal's sprain.

"I can do nothing here," he said. "Nature will put that right. There, Chris, lead him back to the others, and let him graze and forget his troubles if he can."

No leading was required, the pony following his master like a dog back to the pasture, where he began grazing for a few moments, before turning up his head to whinny loudly, and then lie down in the thick gra.s.s, stretching out legs and head, extended upon the flank.

"Why, Chris," cried Ned, "he's fainting!"

"Or something worse," cried Chris anxiously, as he sank stiffly upon his knees behind the mustang's head and laid his hand upon the neck.

"No, he's all right," cried Ned eagerly, for the pony on feeling the touch of his master's hand and hearing his voice, raised his muzzle, looked at him, and let it sink down again.

"Poor old fellow," said Chris softly, and he stayed there kneeling and talking quietly to the injured animal, till a shout from the terrace recalled them back.

Chris gave the soft neck another pat or two, and limped off with his companion.

"I do hope he's not going to die, Ned," he said, and he looked back when they had pa.s.sed the mules, to have the satisfaction of seeing the pony make an effort to rise, without avail, but on the second trial he stood up with his legs far apart, gave himself a shake, and then lowered his head to begin biting feebly at the gra.s.s.

"Think he'll get over it, father?" said Chris, as he reached their stronghold.

"Oh yes. The injuries are not deep; but I'm rather afraid of that strain. He may go lame; but we shall see. I called you because I want you to keep out of the sun. Lie down in the shade and rest."

"I don't feel anything much the matter now, father."

"Perhaps not, my boy," said the doctor quietly, "but I want you to be better still to-morrow, not worse."

Chris, though he did not feel much the matter, to quote his own words, was fully conscious of being a good deal shaken, and when he lay down upon the rough bed of sage-brush covered with a blanket, the att.i.tude was very pleasant to his aching limbs, and he soon began to feel that it was very restful to lie there watching the sides of the valley and making believe to keep a lookout for Indians.

The evening closed in, however, without any sign of the enemy, and soon after the lad had to listen to the congratulations of Bourne and Griggs, who brought in a pleasant addition to the stores in the shape of the grouse-like birds which came down from the tableland in coveys to get at the water which had been Chris's guide to the bottom of the valley.

"A fine bit of luck that, squire," said Griggs, "getting the mustang back. I was surprised."

"Have you been to see him?" asked Chris anxiously.

"Oh yes; I went as soon as I heard."

"What do you think of him?"

"Regular cripple," said Griggs, in his uncompromising way.

"But you think he'll get better?"

"Well, I hope so, but horses are ticklish things, and you never know what comes of a sprain or strain. I hope he'll come round, but I have my doubts about his being quite sound again."

As soon as it was dark the ponies and mules were quietly driven higher up the valley, so as to try and guard against any attempt to carry them off in the night. Then watch was set, and before those not on duty sought their resting-places a little debate was held as to the next steps to be taken. But not much was said. Reference was however made to Chris's mount and the possibility of his being fit to ride again at the end of a few days.

"But, you see, everything depends on the Indians," said the doctor. "We can't leave here to have them hanging on our heels, ready to catch us at a disadvantage. I almost wish they'd attack us to-morrow or next day, to get severely punished and so discouraged that they'd be off and leave us alone."

"Don't you think they'd come back to revenge themselves?" said Chris.

"They must feel very spiteful even now, father."

"Yes, but an Indian is very fond of his life, my boy, and only likes to attack when he feels pretty sure of securing plunder. Now he is not likely to get much here, for any attempt made upon our cattle is bound to result in failure."

"But suppose they attacked in the night?" said Chris.

"I don't think these people would do that, my boy. They are horse Indians--Apaches, I fancy, and they like to fight as mounted men, so that they can dash in or gallop away. But come, you've talked too much already. Lie down and go to sleep. We're pretty safe here in our stronghold; water is plentiful; and it seems as if we have only to go and lie up near that spring to get as many birds as we want. Now then, sleep. I want rest badly, for I've had a long day and quite as much anxiety as is good for any one man."

Chris thought the same as he lay there, rather sleepless now, after so long an indulgence; and he thought a good deal too as he gazed up through the window-opening at the great stars, a little feverish and worried about his part in the adventures.

"Could I have done any better than I did?" kept coming as a question which remained unanswered when he dropped off to sleep, to begin dreaming about the reproachful eyes of his pony for a time. Then all was blank.

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN.

COUNCILS OF WAR.

Chris awoke next morning to find his father standing over him.

"Well, my boy; better?"

Chris started up, uttered a squeak and screwed up his face with a laugh, and fell back.

"How's my pony, father?"

"What was the matter?" said the doctor anxiously. "A pain anywhere inside?"

"No, father, only I seem to hurt all over, I'm so sore. But how's my pony?"