Frank spent quite a long time scouring the woods that covered the side
of the valley. He had not put up anything worth while, and was even
thinking about heading back to the place where he had agreed to meet his
chum, when a distressing little accident occurred.
Just as he was hurrying down a steep bank his foot caught in a vine, and
he was hurled forward with such violence that his head, coming in
contact with the hard ground, received such a blow that he was rendered
unconscious.
Frank never knew just how long he remained insensible. It might have
been only a few minutes, or perhaps half an hour slipped by while he lay
there. When he finally opened his eyes he looked up into a dusky face,
and realized that it belonged to an Indian!
CHAPTER XVII
AT THE CAMPFIRE OF THE CREES
Frank was not at all alarmed. In the first place, he had been assured by
Mr. Mabie that these Crees were not inclined to be hostile. Then, again,
he saw that it was no fierce face of a warrior that bent over him, but
the pitying one of a child.
"Hello! Who are you?" he asked, a little weakly, for his head was still
swimming more or less from his shock.
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