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"Now you work," said Inmutanka, when he had finished. Will stared at him, and then he remembered Heraka's words of the day before that he was a slave. He was assailed by a sickening sensation but he pulled himself together bravely, and, having become a wise youth, he resolved that he would not make his fate worse by vain resistance. "All right," he said, "what am I to do?" "You be pony herd now."
Inmutanka shall be my personal and private physician." Heraka's face was touched by a faint smile. It was the first mild emotion he had shown and Will rejoiced to see it. He found himself wishing to please this wild chief, not in any desire to seek favor, but he felt that, in its way, the approval of Heraka was approval worth having. "You eat, you drink, you feel strong again," said Heraka.
Heraka's look followed his and in the light of the fire the smile of the chief was so malicious that the great pulse in Will's throat beat hard with anger. "They were yours once," said Heraka, "the great rifle that fires many times without reloading, the cartridges to fit, and the strong glasses that bring the far near. Now they are mine." "They are yours for the present.
They had not rebound him, and they had even allowed him to walk once to the bushes, from which he could see beyond the clear pool at which the Indians had filled their gourds and from which the ponies drank. One of these ponies, Heraka's own, was standing near, and Will with a pang saw bound to it his own fine repeating rifle, belt of cartridges and the leather case containing his field glasses.
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