Grant dipped his handkerchief in the stream, bathed his forehead, and then set out on a stroll to the south of the claims. Finding relief, he pushed on till he had probably walked a couple of miles.
It was a lonely stretch of country, and, with the exception of a boy, he met no one. His surprise was the greater, therefore, when at one point he heard a groan, evidently proceeding from some one in pain. He looked about him, and finally discovered an old man lying under a tree, doubled up with pain. It was hard to tell his age, for his appearance was neglected, and he had the air of one who lived apart from his fellow men.
“What is the matter?” asked Grant, in a tone of sympathy. “Can I help you?”
“I am suffering from an attack of rheumatism,” answered the old man. “It came upon me suddenly, and has disabled me, as you see.”
“What can I do for you?”
“If you can help me to my cabin it will be a great service.”
“Where is your cabin?”
“In the edge of yonder woods.”
He pointed feebly, and Grant, following the direction, espied a small hut, brown and discolored with age, standing under the shadow of a rock about a quarter of a mile away.
He helped the old man to his feet, and half supported him as he walked toward the cabin.