Cameron found his gorge rise at the sight of the gangrenous ankle.
"This is a horrid business, Mandy," he exclaimed.

"This is not for you.
Let us send for the doctor.

That foot will surely have to come off.
Don't mess with it.

Let us have the doctor." But his wife, from the moment of her first sight of the wounded foot, forgot all but her mission of help.
"We must have a clean tent, Allan," she said, "and plenty of hot water.
Get the hot water first." Cameron turned to the Chief and said, "Hot water, quick!" "Huh--good," replied the Chief, and in a few moments returned with a small pail of luke-warm water.
"Oh," cried Mandy, "it must be hot and we must have lots of it." "Hot," cried Cameron to the Chief.

"Big pail--hot--hot." "Huh," grunted the Chief a second time with growing intelligence, and in an incredibly short space returned with water sufficiently hot and in sufficient quantity.
All unconscious of the admiring eyes that followed the swift and skilled movements of her capable hands, Mandy worked over the festering and fevered wound till, cleansed, soothed, wrapped in a cooling lotion, the limb rested easily upon a sling of birch bark and skins suggested and prepared by the Chief.