Robert carried him again, and it was hard traveling up the steep and rocky path, but Tayoga’s words were quickly proved to be true.  In the crumbling face of the stone cliff they found not only an opening but several, the bear having preferred one of the smaller to the largest, which ran back eight or ten feet and which was roomy enough to house a dozen men.  It bore no animal odor, and there was before it an abundance of dead leaves that could be taken in for shelter.

“Now Manitou is kind,” said Tayoga, “or it may be that Areskoui and Tododaho are still keeping their personal watch over us.  Lay me in the cave, Dagaeoga.  Thou hast acquitted thyself as a true friend.  No sachem of the Onondagas, however great, could have been greater in fidelity and courage.”

Robert made two beds of leaves.  On one he spread the blanket that was strapped to Tayoga’s back.  Then he built his own place and felt that they were sheltered and secure for the time, and in truth they were housed as well as millions of cave men for untold centuries had been.  It was a good cave, sweet-smelling, with pure, clean air, and Robert saw that if it rained the water would not come in at the door, but would run past it down the slope, which in itself was one of the luckiest strokes of fortune.

Tayoga lay on his blanket on his bed of leaves, and, looking up at the rough and rocky roof, smiled.  He had begged Robert to leave him and go to the battle, and he knew that if his comrade had gone, he, wounded as he was, would surely have perished.  If a hostile skirmisher did not find him, which was more than likely, he would have been overcome by the fever of his wound, and, lying unconscious while some rainstorm swept over him, his last chance would be gone.  He could feel the fever creeping into his veins now, and he knew that they had found the refuge just in time.  Yet he was grateful and cheerful, and in his heart he said silent thanks to Tododaho, Areskoui and Manitou.  Then he called to Robert.

“See if you can find water,” he said.  “There should be more than one stream among these rocky hollows.  Bring the water here in your cap and wash my wound.”

Iroquois therapeutics were very simple, but wonderfully effective, and, as Robert had seen both Onondagas and Mohawks practice their healing art, he understood.  He discovered a good stream not many yards away, and carefully removing Tayoga’s bandages, and bringing his cap filled to the brim with water, he cleansed the wound thoroughly.  Then the bandages were put on again firmly and securely.  This in most cases constituted the whole of the Iroquois treatment, so far as the physical body was concerned.  The wound must be kept absolutely clean and away from the air, nature doing the rest.  Now and then the juices of powerful herbs were used, but they were not needed for one so young and so wholesome in blood as Tayoga.

When the operation was finished the Onondaga lay back on his bed and smiled once more at the rough and rocky roof.