When I had removed my capote and outer clothing, she glanced at me, and I noticed she gave a sigh of relief when she saw that I was a young man—rough, unkempt, and anything but clean, certainly—but not a ruffianly bushman, as she no doubt had feared I would prove to be; then sitting down by her fire, I asked, "Now, what can I do to help you? What is wrong?"
She looked at me very sorrowfully, tears filled her eyes, she sobbed, she strove to reply to me; it took same time for her to attain the power of speech, whilst I regarded her with extreme interest and sympathy. At length she murmured, "I am not alone here—my father is lying in there," and she pointed to the other curtained place. "He is lying there very ill—dying, I'm afraid; it is for him that I want help."
I told her that I was greatly grieved for her, but that, unfortunately, I knew little or nothing about illness. I asked if there were no others camped about there—were they entirely alone?
She assured me that, so far as they knew, there was no human being within a hundred miles of them, and that the great trouble was, they had no food,—that they were actually starving!
"Do you mean," I asked, horrified, "that you really have nothing here to eat? How long have you been like this?"
She told me that for weeks they had had nothing but salmon and a little tea; no bread, no meat—nothing but what she had mentioned. "And for a sick man," she went on, "what are they? I have tried to cook this fish in various ways, to get him to eat, but it is useless; he has had nothing but tea for many days—he's dying of starvation!"
"And you," I said; "how have you managed? Have you had nothing but salmon?"
She replied reluctantly, "Oh, I've done well enough. I can eat the fish, and have done so all the time; but now, alas! that too is consumed! We are just perishing for want of food—it is dreadful. What am I to do? Can you help us?"
I was unbuckling my bag now. "Come," said I; "cheer up, then. If that is all that's wrong, I can soon make it right;" and when I put the piece of bread and meat upon the rough table, and unfolded the cake of chocolate, her eyes dilated with eagerness. She glared at the provisions as a half-starved dog would do, which completely upset my equanimity.
"My dear lady!" I exclaimed, "I have plenty. By God's good providence I put these things into my bag when I started. Why, I don't know, but there they are; pray eat, and let me assure you that I have ample provisions; eat, and then we'll talk further about what is to be done."