Charley, you fasten
that door;" for the door into the shed, which had been secured only by a
button, was wide open. "You get the hammer and two, three big nails, and
drive 'em in," he continued. "Maybe more them darn scamps round."
Charley obeyed directions in a way which did him credit. Little Ned, with
wide, surprised eyes, clung to me in silence; little Carry, seeing her
mother in tears, put up a piteous lip and sobbed in her unbaby-like,
sorrowful fashion; the old cat, in great excitement, went purring and
talking from one to another.
"Tell me where you are hurt," I said, holding the chief's hand.
He had been shot through the stomach with a great, old-fashioned
smooth-bore musket, which lay on the floor--a gun not carrying less than
twenty-five to the pound. I had seen gunshot wounds before, and I knew
that this was serious. It did not bleed much externally, but the edges of
the wound were torn and discolored.
"That fellow dead?" asked the Panther.
"Yes indeed!" for the man's head was split like a walnut.
The old warrior looked gratified. "Mamma," he said, touching his
hunting-knife, "you take that fellow's scalp."
"Don't think of such a thing," I said, not so much shocked as I might have
been had I not lived on the Indian frontier. "Do you know who they are?"
"See them to Ryan's.
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