There was a howl of pain and a yell of laughter. Without
seeming effort the Chevalier then rolled the bully among the
evil-tempered dogs. So long as he continued to smile, the Indians saw
nothing but good-natured play, such as had been the act which caused
Victor his pain. The Chevalier sat down, drew his tattered cloak
around his shoulders, and once more resumed his study of the fire.
"Hoh!" grunted the fighting braves, who frankly admired this exhibition
of strength.
"Curse it, why didn't I think of that?" said the vicomte, his hand
seeking his injured mouth again.
"God bless you for that, Paul," murmured Victor, the sparkle of tears
in his eyes. "My hands do not hurt half so much now."
"Would to God, lad, you had gone to Spain. I am content to suffer
alone; that is my lot; but it triples my sufferings to see you in pain."
"Good!" said D'Herouville. "The cursed fool of a medicine man has
stopped his din. We shall be able to sleep." He doubled up his knees
and wrapped his arms around them.
A squaw gave Victor some bears' grease, and he rubbed his palms with
it, easing the pain and the smart.
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