“Stop a moment,” said I, rising up, “I have just thought of something.” I ran down to the point where the chest lay, took a shirt from the rock, and brought it back with me, and tearing it into strips, I bandaged the wound.
“Where did you get that linen?” said Jackson. I told him.
“And you got the knife there, too,” said he, with a sigh. I replied in the affirmative.
As soon as I had finished, he told me he was much easier, and said:
“I thank you.”
“What is, I thank you?” replied I.
“It means that I am grateful for what you have done.”
“And what is grateful?” inquired I again. “You never said those words to me before.”
“Alas, no,” replied he, “it had been better if I had. I mean that I feel kindly towards you, for having bound up my wound, and would do any thing for you if I had the power. It means, that if I had my eyesight, as I had a week ago, and was master, as I then was, that I would not kick nor beat you, but be kind to you. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” replied I, “I think I do; and if you tell me all I want to know, I shall believe you.”