The soldier also wanted to persuade again: "There are already many elderly people who are seriously ill or even sick and have died. ”

"You're questioning a most prominent shaman!" Mo Gu said angrily, and then emphasized again, "No one knows the plague better than I do, my father is a survivor of the plague, and I have studied medicine for fifty-three years. ”

He picked up the mask and stuffed it into the hands of the soldiers: put away your impudence, young man, and this so-called mask! ”

“…… Not following my advice would be the tribe's biggest mistake. You will inevitably pay a heavier price before you can understand the shamanic wisdom that has been passed down from time immemorial. ”

As he spoke, he let out a long sigh with a melancholy and complicated expression. It was clear that he did believe what he said.

The soldier finally had no choice but to say nothing, turned and left the room.

It didn't take long for most of the people in Sleeping Bear City, including the prisoners, to wear masks.

Only a few people insisted on not wearing one, and they all believed in the similar idea that masks covering their faces would make the plague even more terrifying.

Traditionally, Native Americans have a common preference for applying various pigments to their faces to convey the meaning of victory, funeral, prayer, etc.

The reason why the Indians were once considered red was because they often applied red pigment to their bodies, which led to the mistake of white people for natural red skin.

Since it is a pattern painted on the face, of course, it must be made public.

Wearing a mask obscures the pattern, which is equivalent to invalidating the pattern. Therefore, in order to maintain the pattern on their faces, but also to express some kind of resistance or maverick, these people insist on refusing to wear masks.

What happened next was not unexpected, with stricter isolation and disinfection, as well as the spread of masks, making the spread of the plague even more weak, and the number of new infections rapidly decreasing.

Those who insist on not wearing masks have become relatively susceptible to infection.

Most of the new infections in the back are from these people who don't wear masks.

"Spread, what is the current production of pistols?" Sitting in the chieftain's hall, the horse whistle asked, writing at his desk.

"It's basically unaffected by the plague." "Now we can produce 800 revolvers a month, and by March, we will definitely be able to produce 1,500 to fulfill Santa Fe's order." ”

"Well done." The horse whistle nodded.

The Apache Arsenal has largely emerged from the effects of the plague, not because the pandemic has passed, but mainly due to the characteristics of distributed assembly lines.

The distributed assembly line, which refers to the military production model of the East Asian island countries in later generations, is originally composed of scattered composition, and does not need to concentrate a large number of personnel, and can still produce even in a state of national isolation.

The only trouble is to find a replacement for the infected workers, which is not difficult to solve, there are more than 20 infected workers in total, and it is not a difficult job, and it is easy to find someone to come up.

Ma Whistle had always felt that the distributed assembly line was just a temporary solution, but now that it has performed well in the epidemic, he can't help but re-examine the significance of this production model.

In some areas, this model may be long-lasting, at least as a complement to centralized pipelines.

"Great Chief, when the production of 1,500 pistols is completed, will the arsenal continue to maintain production?" ”

"Absolutely." "With the performance and price of the Browning 1845, we can sell at least 10,000 units in the next two years." ”

"If the war goes on more intensely than I expected, thirty-four is also possible."

After a pause, he continued: "Even if we don't raise the price, we sell it for twenty-five dollars, with a profit of fifteen dollars each, and sell ten thousand sticks, which is a net gain of $150,000, and thirty thousand pieces is $450,000." ”

"So we not only have to maintain production, but we also have to increase production. It was also about training workers and bringing more Apache people into industrial production. ”

At this moment, the shaman Graystone came to the chief's hall - Graystone was the first person to be cured, he was antibody, and he was also a shaman, so he was now the main person in charge of the epidemic prevention work.

"Great Chief, grinding his bones is infected." Graystone said.

Ma Sentry was stunned for a moment, then raised his head and asked, "When did it happen?" ”

Graystone's expression was both sympathetic and a little sarcastic: "At least three days ago, he was infected, but he didn't come to the hospital until today for the sake of face, and now he is almost dying." ”

Zhan Bou said disdainfully: "Is this old moth finally going to die?" I remember the last time I saw him, he was still preaching that no one knows more about the plague than he does! ”

Gray Stone nodded: "I'm afraid yes, I am nearly sixty years old, and I smoke and drink, this time I am seriously ill, and most of them will not survive." ”

Ma Sentry thought for a moment, got up and said, "I'll go see him." ”

Then he followed Graystone to the hospital room, and saw the grinding bones lying on the bed coughing and wheezing in pain.

"Ahem—ahem, ahem!" At this moment, Mo Gu was coughing and trembling, sweat was dripping on his forehead, his eyes were scattered, and his gray hair was dry as if it had exploded.

"Grinding bones." The horse whistle took a few steps closer.

Grinding bones tried hard to calm down the coughing and wheezing, and his eyes regained a little focus, looking at the horse whistle: "Big ...... Grand Chieftain...... I ......"

As he spoke, his tone fluctuated, his eyes earnest, and his trembling voice sounded akin to crying.

When a man is about to die, his words are good. At this moment, Ma Whistle also felt a little compassion for this senior moth.

However, the next words of the grinding bone made his sympathy disappear in an instant.

I only heard the grinding bone struggling to say: "I ...... I contracted the plague not because of my medical skills, but because of the will of God, because good people don't live long! ”

Horse whistle: "......"

"I advise you...... Repent sooner and don't let Apache fall again. The grinding body twitched, exerting all his strength.

The horse whistle still didn't speak.

Mo Gu looked in a trance and looked up at the roof: "The great spirit is calling me, I am going to heaven." I still have, and one more request, the Great Chief...... Never cremate my body...... Rather, I was to be buried on a mountain with three peaks in the south, and I dreamed that it was my home. ”

"I see." Ma Whistle replied blandly.

Hearing this, a little relief appeared on the grinding bone's face, and he gradually lay down his body, closed his eyes, and accepted the call of the Great Spirit.

After a while, he didn't move again.

Ma Whistle asked, "Is he dead?" ”

Graystone stepped forward to inspect it and nodded: "It's dead, there is no heartbeat or breathing anymore." ”

Saying that, he hesitated a little: "Great Chief, are we really going to bury the bones in the south?" ”

"Of course, like all the corpses in the plague, they were cremated directly." Ma Whistle has been promoting cremation for a long time, let alone the current epidemic.

In fact, what he most wanted to implement was a default donation system, unless the deceased or his family had explicitly objected to it, all bodies would be donated, similar to the organ donation system implemented in Spain in later generations.

However, there is no technology for organ transplantation, and the Indians are not capable of conducting anatomical studies, so cremation can only be implemented for the time being.

"Remember to burn it clean." The whistle said again.