73
THE BLUE FEATHER
of the main cave, lay the tribal leader. He was lying on the
ground, in a growing pool of blood. His right leg had been
crushed and burned by a large hot rock. Holding his head in her
lap was a young girl who must be his daughter, and standing over
them, shaking a hollowed-out gourd with stones in it, was a
dancing shaman.
“I don’t think he is going to help this man get well by making
a racket with that gourd, and dancing around,” said Jonathan, as
he watched the poor girl cry over her father.
“We need to stop the shaman,” Bardala said. “But, how?”
“I know,” Jonathan said, as he pointed his finger at the prone
figure lying on the cave floor. Slowly the man rose into the air, to
waist high of the dancing man. When the shaman saw this, he
went running into the front of the cave, leaving the four visitors
alone with the tribal leader.
Viviana touched the jagged bleeding wound, and in her mind
imagined the leg repaired and whole once again. Both Bardala
and Tital also aided her with their healing touch, and positive
thoughts. While the victim’s young daughter watched with
fascination, the tissues on her father’s leg rejuvenated, and grew
back to normal within minutes.
“You have saved my father! My brother, my mother, and I
thank you,” the young girl said, wiping away her tears.
“But we are not finished,” Jonathan said. “We need to get
some fluids in him. We have some glucose I.V.’s in pack ten, as I
packed forty of them.”
“I will get them,” Tital said, as he went forward to find the
needed fluid.
After three long hours of the sugar solution being sent into
the tribal leader’s veins, his grey eyes opened, and he asked if his