The Changing Wind Read Online Free

lowered the “Weapon. Apparently he thought the crippled boy not worth an arrow; he would have to cross the creek to recover it. He looked up again at the two on the ledge and smiled as he pointed to them.
    “I will get you next time!” the man signed.
    He turned and trotted to join the others, who were withdrawing, laden with loot. Small Elk and Crow were already scrambling down the narrow path to help Bull Roarer. From the direction of the camp there now rose a mournful wail as the women began the Song of Mourning.

4

    T he children scrambled quickly down and along the ledge to where Bull Roarer lay, partly in the water.
    “We will help you!” cried Crow. “Does it hurt much?”
    “A little,” said Bull Roarer between clenched teeth.
    His face was pale and sweaty, his eyes wide and bordering on panic. Small Elk knelt in the water beside the injured boy. He had seen his father examine such injuries.
    “Do not try to move yet,” he advised. “Now where does it hurt? Only your leg?”
    “Y—yes, I think so. Elk, it hurts a lot.”
    “Does it hurt in your belly?”
    “No. I don’t think so. My leg…”
    Small Elk was looking at the twisted leg. Something was definitely wrong with it. There appeared to be an extra joint, like an extra knee, between the real knee and the hip. This gave an odd zig-zag appearance to the leg and accounted for the awkward position of the foot, which could never be used if it pointed in the present direction.
    “Your leg is broken,” Small Elk said professionally.
    “I know that,” snapped Bull Roarer irritably. “Help me!”
    “It must be pulled straight,” Small Elk stated, “and I do not know how.”
    The crying and the wailing sounds continued from the camp. There was an occasional scream as a new casualty was discovered. People called out names of missing loved ones.
    “Bring your father,” Bull Roarer demanded. “He can fix my leg.”
    “He is not here!” Small Elk reminded. “He went with the men.”
    “Maybe we can pull him out of the water,” Crow suggested.“There is enough space here for him to lie more comfortably.”
    The two took Bull Roarer by the arms to drag him ashore. The injured boy screamed as the broken leg moved and bone grated on splintered bone.
    “It looks straighter now,” Elk observed.
    He picked up a small stick and handed it to Bull Roarer.
    “Here. Bite on this. We nearly have you out.”
    One more sustained pull, and they were able to drag the victim ashore to lie full length on the damp grass. Tears streamed down his face, but as the pain subsided, he removed the stick from his mouth, crushed and broken from the pressure of his teeth.
    “Aiee!”
he whispered, his face still pale. “It hurts less when you do not move it.”
    “This leg is shorter than the other,” observed Crow.
    “Yes, and the toe points backward,” Small Elk noted. “Should we not turn it to the front?”
    “No, no,” Bull Roarer protested, “you will turn it the wrong way! Go and get help!”
    “I will go,” Crow suggested. “You can stay with him.”
    She jumped to her feet and ran nimbly along the bank to the point where they had crossed. Small Elk sat down near their suffering friend.
    “Elk, I think I am going to die,” said Bull Roarer weakly.
    “No, you are not,” Small Elk snapped. “I will not let you.”
    “All right. But can you stop the leg from moving?”
    The damaged muscles, protesting this injury to their form and function, were twitching spasmodically. With each spasm, the uncontrolled motion created new waves of pain.
    “I don’t know,” Small Elk admitted. “I will try.”
    He attempted to hold the foot still against the paroxysm of muscles. It seemed to help some, but his own muscles quickly tired.
    “I am going to let go for a little while,” he told Bull Roarer. “I will get some rocks to prop around your foot.”
    This appeared to be the best answer yet and seemed to comfort the injured leg. Crow came splashing back