"Shot?" asked the old hunter, paying no attention to the question. He
dropped upon his knees beside Rod, his long brown fingers reaching out
anxiously. "Shot?"

"No--hit with a club. We met three Indian hunters who were in camp and
who invited us to eat with them. While we were eating they jumped upon
our backs. Rod got that--and lost his rifle!"

Mukoki quickly stripped the wounded boy of his garments, baring his left
arm and side. The arm was swollen and almost black and there was a great
bruise on Rod's body a little above the waist. Mukoki was a surgeon by
necessity, a physician such as one finds only in the vast unblazed
wildernesses, where Nature is the teacher. Crudely he made his
examination, pinching and twisting the flesh and bones until Rod cried
out in pain, but in the end there was a glad triumph in his voice as he
said:

"No bone broke--hurt most here!" and he touched the bruise. "Near broke
rib--not quite. Took wind out and made great deal sick. Want good
supper, hot coffee--rub in bear's grease, then be better!"

Rod, who had opened his eyes, smiled faintly and Wabi gave a half-shout
of delight.

"Not so bad as we thought, eh, Rod?" he cried. "You can't fool Muky! If
he says your arm isn't broken--why, it _isn't_, and that's all there is
to it. Let me bolster you up in these blankets and we'll soon have a
supper that will sizzle the aches out of you. I smell meat--fresh meat!"

With a chuckle of pleasure Mukoki jumped to his feet and ran out to