On the fourth day after the arrival of the hunters at their cabin, the accident of which Mr. Linden made mention befell Bowlby. It was early in the morning, when the three were making their round of visits to the traps. Since no two inspected the same ones, they were quite widely separated from each other. Bowlby was walking over a rocky stretch of land alongside the when a loose stone turned under his foot, giving his ankle such a that when he tried to stand he found he could not bear the least weight on it. It was one of those hurts that are more painful and troublesome than a fractured limb.  
"Here's a pretty go," he , as he sat down on the ground, his face contorted with pain; "it'll be a long time before I'll be able to stand, and the boys will have to bring one75 of the hosses here or else carry me home. Hello!"
 
He shouted at the top of his voice, feeling no alarm, for he knew that his friends would come to his relief before long, even if they did not hear his voice; but then he reflected, as he sat on the ground beside the two that he had killed and was carrying to his home, that he was in bad form if a wild animal should him, or there should happen to be a hostile Indian prowling in the vicinity. He had left his gun at the cabin, as was his practice, since he needed all his strength to bring in the products of the traps.
 
He was startled, therefore, after his third shout; an Indian , armed, walked out of the wood and came toward him; but his signs of peace, and more than all, the words he uttered, removed his fears.
 
"My brother suffers; Deerfoot will help him to his cabin."
 
"If that's so," said the greatly relieved Bowlby, "you're just the chap I'm waiting for. We'll leave these beavers here for the others to come after, and if you'll let me lean76 on your shoulder I guess I can hobble back; but I'll have to lean heavy," he added, looking doubtfully at the Indian, "and you ain't much more than a likely lad."
 
"Let my brother try me," said Deerfoot, with a smile.
 
The disabled hunter did try him, often compelled, as he was, to bear to such an extent upon his new friend that it may be said the latter sustained half his weight. The progress was slow, and when they reached a small stream of water, Bowlby sat down and allowed the young Shawanoe to bathe the limb. Great relief was felt.
 
During this walk homeward, the two naturally talked a good deal together and learned much about each other. Deerfoot said that he had often hunted through the surrounding country, and he told why it was he had found it necessary to leave his tribe on the other side of the Mississippi. He said that he had spent more than one night in the cabin of Bowlby and his friends during the summer months, when he found himself belated in the vicinity, and he once shot a wolf that was resolved on entering against his protest. It was his intention to make a call upon the hunters, and if they needed his aid, he was glad to give it in the way of trap or shoot game. You need not be told that though James Bowlby felt an dislike of the American race, there was now one exception: henceforth he was the sworn friend of Deerfoot the Shawanoe.
 
Linden and Hardin had got back from making their rounds, and were wondering what could have delayed their friend, when they saw him limping painfully on one foot, and supported by a fine looking young Indian warrior. Their was great, for they could not understand what it meant. Linden hastened to the help of Bowlby, but he waved him aside and said no one could do as well as Deerfoot.
 
While Hardin went out to bring in the two beavers that had been taken from the traps by Bowlby, the latter was assisted to a seat on the log in front of the cabin. Then Deerfoot insisted on giving attention to the injured limb. It had a great deal since he bathed it. There was nothing in the cabin in the way of or liniment, but Deerfoot hastened into the wood and soon came back with the leaves of some plant whose seemed to be well known to him. These were wrapped in a piece of , which the establishment managed to afford, and pounded to a , and then the poultice was gently to the inflamed ankle. Bowlby declared that it felt better at once, but his face when Deerfoot told him that it would be a moon, or several weeks, before he would fully recover the use of his limb.
 
"That will make us short-handed, and we need every one," said Mr. Linden; "I wish Fred was here to give us help."
 
"I think I can ride my hoss to Greville," said Bowlby, "and bring him back with me."
 
"That is hardly worth while."
 
"Where is the home of my brother?" gently asked Deerfoot.
 
"At the settlement of Greville, about a hundred miles to the north."
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