THE words, "It bite! I die!" seemed to sound through the little cabin like the echoes of a death knell. There was such terrible, significant acceptance in the Indian's voice that for an instant Mehitable had the distinct vision of him lying twisted in mortal agony at her feet. Then her natural courage reasserted itself and she started forward impetuously.
"Nay, no use to talk of dying!" she said, vigorous opposition in her voice. "There are ways of curing snake bites an they be followed at once!"
But the Indian, who had been staring somberly before him into space, lifted heavy eyes to hers and shook his head.
"I die!" he repeated simply, stubbornly.
"What dost mean?" demanded Mehitable, upon whom the reason for the certainty of his statement was dawning. "You are not able to reach the place upon your shoulder where the snake struck. And so you will die because of that."
The Indian nodded.
"Well," but here Mehitable shuddered in spite of herself, "I can reach it! I will do—what you say!"
For the first time since he had bent over the fire to place the wood upon the hearth, hope sprang into the
