Such a man was Becker. Though surrounded with dangers, and harassed by the elements, almost alone he had converted a wilderness into fertile fields; he pursued the track that his judgment suggested, and followed it up with invincible resolution; he manfully resisted the severest trials, and cheerfully bore the heaviest burdens; his reliance on Truth or Virtue and on God were unfaltering; but had he provided for every emergency? Is mortal power capable of overcoming every difficulty? We shall see.
A day or two after the entertainment at Rockhouse, Becker whispered to the Pilot—
"Willis, take a rifle, and come along with me; I have something to say to you."
They walked a quarter of an hour or so without uttering a word, when Willis broke the silence.
"You seem sad, Mr. Becker."
"Yes, Willis, I am almost distracted."
"Still, you seem well enough; you are as hale and hearty as if you had just been keel-hauled and got a new rig."
"It is not my body that is suffering, Willis; it is my mind."
"Whatever is the matter?"
"Willis, my wife is dying."