"What's the matter, Yan?"
"I'm sick—I——"
Caleb took his arm. It was wet. A match was struck.
"Hallo, you're bleeding."
"Yes, he had me—he caught me up the tree. I—I—thought I was a goner."
All interest was now turned from the dead Lynx to the wounded boy.
"Let's get him to the water."
"Guess the camp well is the nearest."
Caleb and Sam took care of Yan, while the others brought the Lynx. Yan grew better as they moved slowly homeward. He told all about the attack of the Lynx.
"Gosh! I'd 'a' been scared out o' my wits," said Sam.
"Guess I would, too," added Caleb, to the surprise of the Tribe; "up there, helpless, with a wounded Lynx—I tell you!"
"Well, I was scared—just as scared as I could be," admitted Yan.
At camp a blazing fire gave its lurid light. Cold water was handy and Yan's bleeding arm was laid bare. He was shocked and yet secretly delighted to see what a mauling he had got, for his shirt sleeve was soaked with blood, and the wondering words of his friends was sweetest music to his ears.
Caleb and the city boy dressed his wounds, and when washed they did not look so very dreadful.
They were too much excited to sleep for an hour at least, and as they sat about the fire—that they did not need but would not dream of doing without—Yan found no lack of enthusiasm in the circle, and blushed with pleasure to be the hero of the camp. Guy didn't see anything to make so much fuss about, but Caleb said, "I knowed it; I always knowed you was the stuff, after the night you went to Garney's grave." 
XXXI
On the Old Camp Ground
It was threatening to rain again in the morning and the Indians expected to tramp home heavy laden in the wet. But their Medicine Man had a surprise in store. "I found an old friend not far from here and fixed it up with him to take us all home in his wagon." They walked out to the edge of the rough land and found a farm wagon with two horses and a driver. They got in, and in little less than a hour were safely back to the dear old camp by the pond.
The rain was over now, and as Caleb left for his own home he said:
"Say, boys, how about that election for Head Chief? I reckon it's due now. Suppose you wait till to-morrow afternoon at four o'clock an' I'll show you how to do it."
That night Yan and his friend were alone in their teepee. His arm was bound up, and proud he was of those bandages and delighted with the trifling red spots that appeared yet on the last layer; but he was not in pain, nor, indeed, the worse for the adventure, for, thanks to his thick shirt, there was no poisoning. He slept as usual till long after midnight, then awoke in bed with a peculiar feeling of well-being and clearness of mind. He had no bodily sense; he seemed floating alone, not in the teepee nor in the woods, but in the world—not dreaming, but wide awake—more awake than ever in his life before, for all his life came clearly into view as never before: his stern, religious training; his father, refined and well-meaning, but blind, compelling him to embark in a profession to which he was little inclined, and to give up the one thing next his heart—his Woodcraft lore.
Then Raften stepped into view, loud-voiced, externally coarse, but blessed with a good heart and a sound head. The farmer suffered sadly in contrast with the father, and yet Yan had to suppress the wish that Raften were his father. What had they in common? Nothing; and yet Raften had given him two of the dearest things in life. He, the head of the house, a man of force and success, had treated Yan with respect. Yan was enough like his own father to glory in the unwonted taste; and like that other rugged stranger long ago in Glenyan, Raften had also given him sympathy. Instead of considering his Woodcraft pursuits mere trifling, the farmer had furthered them, and even joined to follow for a time. The thought of Bonnerton came back. Yan knew he must return in a year at most; he knew that his dearest ambition of a college course in zoology was never to be realized, for his father had told him he must go as errand boy at the first opening. Again his rebellious spirit was stirred, to what purpose he did not know. He would rather stay here on the farm with the Raftens. But his early Scriptural training was not without effect. "Honour thy father and thy mother" was of lasting force. He felt it to be a binding duty. He could not rebel if he would. No, he would obey; and in that resolution new light came. In taking him from college and sending him to the farm his father had apparently cut off his hope of studies next his heart. Instead of suffering loss by this obedience, he had come to the largest opportunity of his life.
Yes! He would go back—be errand boy or anything to make a living, but in his hours of freedom he would keep a little kingdom of his own. The road to it might lie through the cellar of a grocer's shop, but he would not flinch. He would strive and struggle as a naturalist. When he had won the insight he was seeking, the position he sought would follow, for every event in the woodland life had shown him—had shown them all, that his was the kingdom of the Birds and Beasts and the power to comprehend them.
And he seemed to float, happy in the fading of all doubt, glad in the sense of victory. There was a noise outside. The teepee door was forced gently; a large animal entered. At another time Yan might have been alarmed, but the uplift of his vision was on him still. He watched it with curious unalarm. It gently came to his bed, licked his hand and laid down beside him. It was old Turk, and this was the first time he had heeded any of them but Caleb. 
XXXII
The New War Chief
Caleb had been very busy all the day before doing no one knew what, and Saryann was busy, too. She had been very busy for long, but now she was bustling. Then, it seems, Caleb had gone to Mrs. Raften, and she was very busy, and Guy made a flying visit to Mrs. Burns, and she had become busy. Thus they turned the whole neighbourhood into a "bee."
For this was Sanger, where small gatherings held the same place as the club, theatre and newspaper do in the lives of city folk. No matter what the occasion, a christening, wedding or funeral, a logging, a threshing, a home-coming or a parting, the finishing of a new house or the buying of a new harness or fanning-mill, any one of these was ample grounds for one of their "talking bees"; so it was easy to set the wheels a-running.
At three o'clock three processions might have been seen wending through the woods. One was from Burns's, including the whole family; one from Raften's, comprising the family and the hired men; one from Caleb's, made up of Saryann and many of the Boyles. All brought baskets.
They were seated in a circle on the pleasant grassy bank of the pond. Caleb and Sam took charge of the ceremonies. First, there were foot-races, in which Yan won in spite of his wounded arm, the city boy making a good second; then target-shooting and "Deer-hunting," that Yan could not take part in. It was not in the programme, but Raften insisted on seeing Yan measure the height of a knot in a tree without going to it, and grinned with delight when he found it was accurate.
"Luk at that for eddication, Sam!" he roared. "When will ye be able to do the like? Arrah, but ye're good stuff, Yan, an' I've got something here'll plase ye."
Raften now pulled out his purse and as magistrate paid over with evident joy the $5 bounty due for killing the Lynx. Then he added: "An' if it turns out as ye all claim" [and it did] "that this yer beast is the Sheep-killer instid av old Turk, I'll add that other tin."