He would have been glad to light a fire of dry leaves and sticks, that he might warm the meat, but he knew that it was yet too dangerous, and so strong was Tayoga's constitution that he might take the food cold, and yet find it nutritious.
It was late in the afternoon when the Onondaga awoke, yawned in human fashion, and raised himself a little on his unwounded shoulder.
"Here is your dinner, Tayoga," said Robert, presenting the shredded venison.

"I'm sorry it's not better, but it's the best the lodge affords, and I, as chief medicine man and also as first assistant medicine man and second assistant medicine man, bid you eat and find no fault." "I obey, O physician, wise and stern, despite your youth," said Tayoga.
"I am hungry, which is a most excellent sign, and I will say, too, that I begin to feel like a warrior again." He ate as much as Robert would let him have, and then, with a great sigh of content, sank back on his bed of leaves.
"I can feel my wound healing," he said.

"Already the clean flesh is spreading over the hurt and the million tiny strands are knitting closely together.

Some day it shall be said in the Vale of Onondaga that the wound of Tayoga healed more quickly than the wound of any other warrior of our nation." "Good enough as a prophecy, but for the present we'll bathe and bind it anew.

A little good doctoring is a wonderful help to will and prediction." Robert once more cleansed the hurt very thoroughly, and he was surprised to find its extremely healthy condition.