1840Indian rebirth

The wound was somewhat red, swollen, and faintly filled with pus.

Ma Shao endured the high fever, staggered up, found a wine bag in the corner of the tent, and poured the strong liquor into the wound.

"Wow--"

Perhaps it was because the fever was so severe that he was a little delirious. Strong wine was poured on the wound, but he didn't feel any pain.

In a moment, a bag of strong liquor was poured out.

Then Ma Shao sat back on the bed, calmed down for a while, felt his mouth and tongue were extremely dry, and found a bag of water to drink.

"Cough-cough!!" Unexpectedly, he choked out as soon as he took a sip, and his face, which was already suffering from a high fever, became even redder.

Damn it, it’s wine!

It turns out that I just poured water on the wound, no wonder I didn’t feel any pain!

While Ma Shao was coughing, he took the leather bag and poured water on the wound again. The excruciating pain reminded him that this time it was real wine: "Hmm, hum, hum, hum!"

Hearing his voice, nearby tribesmen rushed over one after another. The thunderstorm was still falling outside, and when people ran into his tent, they were all covered in water.

"What's wrong with you?" Shi Yao 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."

"Houqiao, go get a bag of water quickly." Shi Ya realized that Ma Shao had a fever, so he took out the herbs he carried with him and said this.

"Eat this first." He handed the herb to Ma Shao's mouth.

Ma Shao was silent for two seconds: "No, just bring me some dried meat and berries."

Given the Indian's medical conditions, his wisest choice is to do logistical work for his immune system, replenish protein and vitamins in a timely manner, that is, eat well, and then let nature take its course.

Fortunately, he believes that his immune system is strong enough, just like 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 bandaged the wound carefully again, which made him feel a little relieved.

However, the development of things was not satisfactory.

His fever symptoms were getting more and more serious, weakness and burning were all over his body, and he could feel strong dizziness even while lying on the bed without moving.

Ma Shao's intuition told him 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. If it is more serious, it may even cause disability and death.

"Wow..."

"Rumble..." There was still thunder outside, and this huge sound reached the ears of the horse whistle, making him feel as if his head was about to be torn apart.

No, God...how long have I been reborn before you take me away?

Ma Shao's mind was in a mess, and sweat was pouring down his forehead. When the sweat flowed through his ears, it seemed to merge with the sound of pouring rain outside.

He was lying on the bed, but he felt as if he was stuck in a mud, and it was still hot mud. The boiling mud made his sweat-soaked skin almost suffocate.

While he was in a trance, some dreams or hallucinations appeared in Mashao's mind.

In his dream, he saw his immune system's army fighting fiercely against germs all over the mountains and plains, with dark clouds looming over the city and artillery fire pouring from 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 leader of germs opposite is a Staphylococcus aureus with messy blond hair, playing the accordion to cheer up the billions of germs...

…

While Ma Shao was fighting the disease, another fight quietly began in a big tent of the Apaches.

"We should not kill prisoners." The speaker was Rainy Day, the high priest of the Plains tribe.

"Why?" someone asked, "the Arapaho killed so many of us last year!"

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

"You still want to reconcile after winning?"

"Otherwise, it would be impossible to reconcile only after failure!"

"No, what we mean is, why should we reconcile?" The speaker was the war chief of the Mescalero tribe. "The Arapaho people are severely weakened. We should work together to completely eliminate them, whether it is the prisoners here or them.

The base camp in the north! Revenge for our people!"

"White people are the real enemies. The aborigines can no longer continue to vendetta against each other. We are about to become extinct!" 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 from white people is indeed great, it is still impossible to exterminate us."

"Compared with three hundred years ago, there are only ten aborigines left..." Rainy Day continued, while his eyes looked towards the door from time to time, his anxiety getting worse.

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

Rainy Day said quickly: "Hunting Rat, you are finally here, where is the horse whistle?"

"Teacher, he is sick." Hunter said.

"Sick?" Yu Tian was stunned when he heard this, and everyone else in the tent also looked at each other.

"Yes, and it's quite serious. I've been lying on the bed all the time." Hunter added.

"Why...oh!" He held his forehead and sighed on a rainy day.

In his view, the only person who could stop people from killing prisoners was the horse whistle, whose prestige had soared during the war, but the horse whistle happened to be ill at this time.

Now there's trouble.

The Arapaho have been the long-standing enemies of the Apaches for many years, and most tribesmen want to execute the captives in the camp or even make a northern expedition to attack the Arapaho.

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

The tent guard touched his chin and said thoughtfully: "Let's do this. Let's execute some of the Arapaho people who have committed the worst crimes, such as the crows. We can wait for the rest to clear up."

"Yes, the crow must die!"

"Cut the crow to death with a thousand swords!"

"I will scalp him alive and let him eat it!" People agreed one after another.

His hero is my enemy. The crow is a respectable hero in the hearts of the Arapaho people, but naturally it is a devil in the hearts of the Apache people.

On a rainy day, I was in a state of confusion. When I heard "I'll talk about it when the weather clears up," I didn't think much about it and said, "Okay."

Then he got up and followed the hunting rat out of the tent: "I'm going to check on the horse whistle. Isn't this guy stronger than a bison? Why does he suddenly become ill after being so good?"

After a while, Rainy Day and Hunter came to Ma Shao's tent. As soon as they entered, they heard bursts of gibberish.

"Aba, ba, aba..." Ma Shao murmured while lying on the bed.

What he said was actually sleep talk in Chinese, but to others on a rainy day, it was Aba Aba, a sign that he was completely sick and stupid.