assistance, to cut away Seth's shirt, and then the
end of the arrow, holding it firmly the while so that it should not
wriggle about, and hurt him more than they could help, after which the
barbed head was drawn out of the wound--which was just between the third
and fourth ribs, and not very serious, as the ex-mate had thought--
stanching the blood, and binding up the place with a silk handkerchief,
which the young engineer had taken from round his neck for the purpose.

Mr Rawlings was immensely relieved to find that Seth was not so
dangerously hit as he had at first supposed. When he saw the arrow
sticking out of his side, he thought it was all up with his poor
comrade; so now that the case appeared more hopeful, he was better able
to consider what course should be adopted for Sailor Bill's rescue.

After a moment's deliberation, during which Seth gazed at him with a
look of piteous entreaty on his face, but did not interrupt him with a
word, guessing what was passing through his mind, Mr Rawlings' line of
action was decided on.

"Here, Jasper," said he to the negro steward.

"Iss, massa."

"You must run back to the camp as hard as you can, and tell Noah Webster
to pick out five or six of the men who can use their rifles well, and
come back here with them and Moose--he wouldn't forget to bring him--to
pursue the Indians. You must also bring a team of mules with the small
waggon with you, the same as I told you about just now, although I did
not then think to what a sad use we should put it, to take home Mr Seth
in; and look sharp now--why, what's the matter?"

Jasper had started up to go at Mr Rawlings' first words; but when that
gentleman spoke about the Indians while giving his directions, his
alacrity and courage seemed to disappear together in company, as,
instead of rushing off, as Mr Rawlings supposed, almost before he could
finish speaking, there he stood, twirling his battered straw-hat about
in his fingers, and looking the picture of cowardly irresolution.

"What, massa?" he tremblingly said, in answer to Mr Rawlings'
interrogation, his teeth chattering with fear, and his countenance
wearing a most hang-dog expression. "Me go back 'lone cross de prairee,
all dat way to camp? Suppose the Injuns scalp pore niggah same as massa
Seth! Golly, Massa Rawlins, um can't do it. I'se afeared!"

"You durned skunk!" exclaimed Seth, his indignation heightened probably
by the pain of his wounds. "You jest ma