Then for the first time the boy made a sound.
"Huh," he grunted feebly.

"Doctor--no good.

Squaw--heap good.

Me two foot--live--one foot--" he held up one finger--"die." His eyes were shining with something other than the fever that drove the blood racing through his veins.

As a dog's eyes follow every movement of his master so the lad's eyes, eloquent with adoring gratitude, followed his nurse as she moved about the wigwam.
"Now we must get that clean tent, Allan." "All right," said her husband.