“What has happened? Why are you off the trail?” she said, and supported him.
“My Injun stoled my dogs and run off,” he replied. “I run after. Then, when I am to come to the trail”—he paused to find the English word, and could not—“encore to this trail I no can. So. Ah, bon Dieu, it has so awful!” He swayed and would have fallen, but she caught him, bore him up. She was so strong, and he was as slight as a girl, though tall.
“Two nights ago,” he answered, and swayed.
“Wait,” she said, and pulled a flask from her pocket. “Drink this—quick!”
He raised it to his lips, but her hand was still on it, and she only let him take a little. Then she drew it away, though she had almost to use force, he was so eager for it. Now she took a biscuit from her pocket.
“Eat; then some more brandy, after,” she urged. “Come on; it’s not far. See, there’s the light,” she added, cheerily, raising her head toward the hut.
“I saw it just when I have fall down—it safe me. I sit down to die—like that! But it safe me, that light—so. Ah, bon Dieu, it was so far, and I want eat so!”
Already he had swallowed the biscuit.
“When did you eat last?” she asked, as she urged him on.