But the bullet was of heavy type, fired from the old smoothbore musket and the shock had been severe.

Although it had not gone quite through the shoulder he could feel it near the surface, and he decided at once upon rude but effective surgery.
Laying Tayoga upon his face, he drew his keen hunting knife and cut boldly into the flesh of the shoulder until he reached the bullet.

Then he pried it out with the point of the knife, and threw it away in the bushes.

A rush of blood followed and Tayoga groaned, but Robert, rapidly cutting the Onondaga's deerskin tunic into suitable strips, bound tightly and with skill both the entrance and the exit of the wound.

The flow of blood was stopped, and he breathed a fervent prayer of thankfulness to the white man's God and the red man's Manitou.