When he recovered, he was again in snow,
slush, and filth, more starved than ever, his head bleeding from a
dreadful blow, and he himself almost dead. Yet, with all that, the
Indian devil was stronger in him than ever, for every new disgrace did
but bring more resolve to be revenged, and he swore it by his tail,
claws, teeth, and eyes.
So he tottered along, though he could hardly walk; nor could he,
indeed, go very far that day. And when, almost broken down with pain
and weariness, he came about noon to two good wigwams. Looking into
one, he saw a gray-haired old man, and in the other a young girl,
apparently his daughter. And they received him kindly, and listened to
his story, saying it was very sad, the old man declaring that he must
really remain there, and that he would get him a doctor, since, unless
he were well cared for at once, he would die. Then he went forth as if
in great concern, leaving his daughter to nurse the weary, wounded
stranger.
Now, when the Doctor came, he, too, was an old gray man, with a
scalp-lock strangely divided like two horns. But the Wild Cat had
become a little suspicious, having been so often deceived, for much
abuse will cease to amuse even the most innocent; and truly he was
none of these. And, looking grimly at the Doctor, [Footnote: This
cross-examination of the Doctor is taken from an Abenaki version,
narrated by a St.
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