1840 Indian Rebirth

Chapter 38 [Killing Prisoners]

The wound was red and swollen, with faint pus.

Ma Shao endured a high fever, got up staggeringly, found a wine bag in the corner of the tent, and poured the spirits on the wound.

"Whoa-"

Perhaps it was because the burn was so severe that he was a little unconscious, and he didn't feel any pain when the strong wine was poured on the wound.

In a short time, a bag of spirits was poured clean.

Then Ma Shao sat back on the bed mat, calmed down a bit, felt the extreme dryness of his tongue, and found another bag of water to drink.

"Cough—cough cough!!" Unexpectedly, he choked out as soon as he took a sip, and his face, which was already highly fevered, became even more red.

Damn, it's wine!
It turned out that I poured water on the wound just now, no wonder I didn't feel any pain!

Ma Whistle coughed, and poured water on the wound with a leather bag. The piercing pain reminded him that this time it was real wine: "Hmph, ah, ah!"

Hearing his voice, the nearby clansmen rushed over one after another.The thunderstorm was still falling outside, and when people ran into his tent, they were all water-stained.

"What's wrong with you?" Shi Ya asked quickly when he saw his weak appearance.

"Water." Ma Shao didn't say much, he just wanted to drink water now, "I want to drink water."

"Thick shoulders, hurry up and get a bag of water." Shi Ya realized that the horse whistle had a fever, and said so while taking out the herbs that he carried with him.

"Eat this first." He handed the herbs to the horse whistle's mouth.

The horse whistle was silent for two seconds: "No need, just bring me some dried meat and berries."

Given the medical conditions of the Indians, his most sensible choice is to do logistical work for his immune system, supplement protein and vitamins in time, that is, eat well, and then resign himself to fate.

Fortunately, he believes his immune system is as strong as his muscles.

"Oh, I know you don't believe in my medical skills." Shi Ya sighed, "Actually, I don't really believe it either."

Horse Whistle: "..."

After a while, he ate and drank enough, and carefully bandaged the wound again, which made him feel a little relieved.

However, the development of things is not satisfactory.

His fever symptoms became more and more serious, weakness and scorching heat spread all over his body, and he could feel strong dizziness while lying on the bed mat.

Intuition told Ma Shuo that his body temperature might have reached 40 degrees Celsius.

This is a dangerous number.

The upper limit of brain cell tolerance is 41 degrees Celsius. Once a fever reaches this level, it is likely to damage the brain, and if it is more serious, it may even cause disability and death.

"Whoa..."

"Boom..." There were still bursts of thunder outside, and this huge movement was heard in the ears of the horse whistle, making him feel as if he was about to tear his skull apart.

Isn't it, God... how long has it been since I was reborn, and you are going to take me away?
Ma Shao's mind was in a mess, sweat poured down his forehead like rain, and when the sweat flowed past his ears, it seemed to merge with the sound of pouring rain outside.

He lay on the bed, but it felt as if he had fallen into the mud, and it was hot mud, and the boiling mud almost suffocated his sweat-soaked skin.

When he was in a trance, some dreams appeared in Ma Shao's mind, which might also be hallucinations.

In the dream, he saw that his immune system army was fighting fiercely with the germs all over the mountains and plains. The black clouds were overwhelming the city, and the artillery fire was raging in the sky. The scene was extremely tragic.

The commander of the immune system is a white blood cell wearing an Eighth Route Army cap who looks like Li Yunlong.

The germ leader on the opposite side is a Staphylococcus aureus with disheveled blond hair, playing the accordion to cheer for billions of germs...

……

While the horses were fighting the disease, another struggle was quietly beginning in one of the big Apache tents.

"We shouldn't kill prisoners." It was raining day, the high priest of the plain tribe who spoke.

"Why?" asked one, "how many of us did the Arapaho kill last year!"

Take a deep breath on the rainy day: "We have won a huge victory, and we should take this opportunity to reconcile with the Arapaho people and unite more indigenous tribes."

"If you win, do you want to reconcile?"

"Otherwise, is it possible to reconcile only after failure, and that's even more impossible!"

"No, what we mean is, why reconcile?" said the war chief of the Mescalero tribe. The stronghold in the north! Avenge our people!"

"White people are the real enemy. The aborigines can no longer kill each other like this. We are almost extinct!" The rainy day's tone was very anxious, and his shaking hands were clenched in front of him.

"I think this is a bit alarmist." Chief Oak said, "Although the threat of white people is indeed great, it is still impossible to exterminate us."

"Compared to 300 years ago, there are no more aborigines left..." Rain continued, looking at the door from time to time, with more and more anxiety.

At this moment, a boy of seventeen or eighteen came in from the outside.

Rainy day hurriedly said: "Mouse hunting, you are finally here, where is the horse whistle?"

"Teacher, he is ill," said the mouse hunter.

"Sick?" Rainy Day was stunned when he heard the words, and the other people in the tent also looked at each other in blank dismay.

"Yes, and it's quite serious. I've been lying on the bed." The mouse hunter added.

"Why... Alas!" Rainy Tian sighed.

In his opinion, the only person who can stop people from killing prisoners is the horse whistle whose prestige has skyrocketed in the war, but the horse whistle just fell ill at this time.

This is trouble.

The Arapaho people have been the old enemies of the Apache people for many years. Most people want to execute the captives in the camp and even counterattack the Arapaho people in the Northern Expedition.

He was the only one in the tent who firmly advocated reconciliation, and there was no hope of convincing everyone.

Shou tent touched his chin, and said thoughtfully: "Well, let's execute some of the heinous Arapaho people first, such as crows. Let's talk about the rest when the weather clears."

"Yes, the crow must die!"

"Cut the crow to pieces!"

"I'm going to scalp him alive and let him eat it!" Everyone echoed.

His hero, my enemy.The crow is a respectable hero in the eyes of the Arapaho people, and naturally a demon in the eyes of the Apache people.

On a rainy day, my mind was confused, and when I heard "let's talk when the weather is fine", I didn't think much about it, and said: "Okay."

Then he got up and followed the mouse hunter out of the tent: "I'll go to see the horse post. Isn't this guy stronger than a buffalo? Why did he get sick all of a sudden?"

After a while, the rainy day and the mouse hunter came to the horse post's tent. As soon as they entered, they heard bursts of nonsense.

"Abaa, baa..." Ma Shao lay on the bed and muttered.

What he said was actually Chinese nonsense, but to the ears of others on a rainy day, this was Aba Aba, a sign of complete illness and stupidity.

(End of this chapter)