From the moment Jack Carleton succumbed, helpless in the grasp of the
fiery fever, he became sick nigh unto death. Those who have been so
afflicted need no attempt to tell his experience or feelings. Why he
should have fallen so critically ill, cannot be judged with certainty,
nor is it a question of importance; the superinducing cause probably lay
in the nervous strain to which he was subjected.

He instantly became delirious and remained so through the night. He
talked of his mother, of Deerfoot, of Otto, and of others; was fleeing
from indescribable dangers, and he frequently cried out in his fright.
The chief and his squaw heard him and understood the cause, but never
raised their hands to give him help.

Jack became more quiet toward morning and fell into a fitful sleep which
lasted until the day was far advanced. Then, when he opened his eyes,
his brain still somewhat clouded, he uttered a gasp of dismay and
terror.

Crouching in the lodge beside him was the most frightful object on which
he had ever looked. It had the form of a man, but was covered with skins
like those of a bear and bison, and a long thick horn projected from
each corner of the forehead. The face, which glared out from this
unsightly dress, was covered with daubs, rings and splashes of red,
white and black paint, applied in the most fantastic fashion. The black
eyes, encircled by yellow rings, suggested a resemblance to some serpent
or reptilian monster. The figure held a kind of rattle made of hollow
horn in either hand, and was watching the countenance of the sick boy
with close attention. When he saw the eyes open, he made a leap in the
air, began a doleful chant, swayed the rattles and leaped about the
lodge in the most grotesque dance that can be imagined. Ogallah and his
squaw were not present, so Jack had the hideous creature all to himself.

Enough sense remained with the boy for him to know that he was the
Medicine Man of the tribe, whom the chieftain had been kind enough to
send to his help. Instead of giving the youth the few simple remedies he
required, he resorted to incantation and sorcery as has been their
custom for hundreds of years. The barbarian fraud continued to chant and
rattle and dance back and forth, until Jack's eyes grew weary of
following the performance. The mind, too, which was so nigh its own
master in the morning, grew weaker, and finally let go its hold.
Sometimes the waltzing Medicine Man suddenly lengthened