"Comrades, as I read the letter I looked up an' saw that Bill wus pretty sick. He had suffered pretty bad from cold an' hunger, an' was a good deal frost-bitten.
"It wasn't long afore we fixed the powders for wee Nan, an' got Bill in good shape, but he wus very bad.
"Wall, the wee thing began to mend, an' Bill, lyin' beside the fire, though he couldn't speak much fur pain, wud sing a wee song, and coo to her—the stranger an' the wee un wur like lovers, an' they both kep' gettin' better.
"After a time wee Nan got round again, but Bill never got over his long ride, fur it left a bad cough that settled on his lungs, an' he lost half o' one foot an' some toes off the other.
"Wall, last summer I went back to the old shanty where I used to live, to fix the fence round Nan's grave, fur ye remember, comrades, that she left us three years ago, an' we buried her beside the shanty. As I wus fixin' the fence, I saw a man walkin' with two sticks, an' he wus comin' to the shanty. I wus a wee bit suspicious, an' I stepped aside into the bush to see if he wur after mischief. He come up to the grave, an' kneeled down beside it, an' then he took some flowers—roses an' the like—an' planted them on the grave. I waited fur a long time till I saw him wander off, an' then I come down an' finished my job.
"I saw him go to one of the coulees, an' there I found his shanty. I dropt in to get somethin' to eat, just fur an excuse, an' when the door wus opened it wus Bill 't met me.
"Boys, ye mind that cripple that ye wus laughin' at in camp the other day? Wall, he's passed in his checks. Ye won't trouble him any more. I went to dig his grave, an' I made the best coffin I could fur him. The boys made fun o' him because he wus only a cripple an' he wus poor. They called him 'Tanglefoot Bill,' an' a good deal o' sport they got out o' him. Wall, when I looked at his feet an' heard him cough, I thought o' the day I wus mendin' the grave an' of the stranger who went fur the medicine fur wee Nan.
"I put a board at the head o' the poor feller's grave, an' these is the words I wrote on it:
"'TO THE MEMORY O' PRAIRIE BILL,
THE FRIEND O' WEE NAN."
When Old Glad had finished his story the men knocked the ashes out of their pipes, and wrapping themselves in blanket or skin, turned over on the sod and went to sleep. They had to make an early start in the morning, and though they made no comment they felt no interest in asking for another story that night.