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“Poor fellow!” said Jack, as they carried him into the hut and placed him on one of the low beds; “he must have met with an accident, for there is no warfare in this region among the Indians to account for his being wounded.”

“‘Tis a strange accident,” said Marteau, when the man’s clothes were stripped off and the wounds exposed. “An accident sometimes puts one bullet through a man, but seldom puts two!”

“True,” said Jack, “this looks bad, here is a hole clean through the fleshy part of his right arm, and another through his right thigh. An enemy must have done this.”

On farther examination it was found that the bone of the man’s leg had been smashed by the bullet, which, after passing through to the other side of the limb, was arrested by the skin. It was easily extracted, and the wounds were dressed by Jack, who, to his many useful qualities, added a considerable knowledge of medicine and surgery.

When the Indian recovered sufficiently to give an account of himself to Marteau, who understood his language perfectly, he told him, to the surprise of all, that his double wound was indeed the result of an accident, and, moreover, that he had done the deed with his own hand. Doubtless it will puzzle the reader to imagine how a man could so twist himself, that with an unusually long gun he could send a bullet at one shot through his right arm and right thigh. It puzzled Jack and his men so much, that they were half inclined to think the Indian was not telling the truth, until he explained that about a mile above the hut, while walking through the bushes, he tripped and fell. He was carrying the gun over his shoulder in the customary Indian fashion, that is, by the muzzle, with the stock behind him. He fell on his hands and knees; the gun was thrown forward and struck against a tree so violently, that it exploded; in its flight it had turned completely round, so that, at the moment of discharge, the barrel was in a line with the man’s arm and leg, and thus the extraordinary wound was inflicted.

To crawl from the spot where the accident occurred took the poor fellow nearly twelve hours, and he performed this trying journey during the night and morning over a rugged country and without food.

The surgical operation engaged Jack’s attention the greater part of the forenoon. When it was completed and the Indian made as comfortable as possible, he went out with the men to visit the nets which were set at the rapids about two miles higher up the river.

CHAPTER SIX.

JACK HAS A DESPERATE ENCOUNTER.

We never can tell what a day or an hour may bring forth. This is a solemn fact on which young and old might frequently ponder with advantage, and on which we might enlarge to an unlimited extent; but our space will not admit of moralising very much, therefore we beg the reader to moralise on that, for him–or herself. The subject is none the less important, that circumstances require that it should be touched on in a slight, almost flippant, manner.

Had Jack Robinson known what lay before him that evening, he would–he would have been a wiser man! Nothing more appropriate than that occurs to us at this moment. But, to be more particular:–

When the party reached the nets, Jack left them to attend to their work, and went off alone to the vats, some of which, measuring about six feet in diameter, were nearly full of fish in pickle.

As he walked along the slight track which guided him towards them, he pondered the circumstances in which he then found himself, and, indulging in a habit which he had acquired in his frequent and prolonged periods of solitude, began to mutter his thoughts aloud.