She had scarcely spoken, before her son stretched out his arm, as if to strike. It fell feebly, and only gave intimation of what he would do, if he had the power. He then said in the Shawanee tongue, “go away.” “Do you see that, Rolfe?” said Earth, “that fellow is all pluck; 'tis a pity he is a red skin. I am sorry for him, and I will try and set him up, if it is only to have a fair crack at him some future day, when he gets well.” Then turning to the boy, he said, “when Earth shoots you, my good fellow, he will not leave you to lie suffering for two days; he won't be so barbarous.” The boy turned his eyes towards Earth, but said nothing. Rolfe, who understood Earth's character, who knew how much kindness and gentleness there was under his rough exterior, gave in to his humour, and said, “you have a queer way of giving consolation, Earth.” “Did you not hear the mother say I was kind to the red men? you know I am, Rolfe. I never let 'em suffer long, I do the thing genteely. Now, I should like to meet this lad when he gets well, just to show him how much difference there is between being killed, that is, as I would kill him, and that is genteely, and being mangled up and left to die for two days.” “I don't imagine, Earth, he feels much curiosity on the subject; if he gets over this, he will no doubt be satisfied.” “Get over it, indeed!—surely he will, the Ingens know the use of so many yerbs, that, with them, I believe they can make a leg, much more cure one that is only shot; they are proper nice hands with yerbs, I tell you.” While thus conversing, Earth was diligently at work, preparing the litter for the removal of the boy; and having finished it, the hunters approached, and with as much tenderness as if they had been about to remove a brother, lent their assistance. The boy, though evidently very weak, still manifested some displeasure against Earth, and having discovered that Rolfe was likewise a pale face, he grew still more agitated. The mother said many soothing things, and endeavoured to appease him;—the boy spoke not, but pointed to his mangled limbs. The mother then requested the hunters to assist her in placing her son upon the litter; they did so, and though every possible kindness was used, their acts were as wormwood to the Indian boy.