“We will do what we can, depend on that,” I answered; and Martin and I agreed to accompany him the next morning.
The sick man slept on and on, till at last I began to fear that he would not awake. At length, greatly to my relief, I heard him speaking to Robin, and I went up to the side of his bunk to inquire how he felt.
“As I have done for several days,” he answered.
Robin, who had gone to the fire, brought him some broth.
“This will restore your strength, sir,” he said, “for it has done Alick much good.”
The sick man took it with a faint smile, for he doubted whether anything would do him good.
“Your elder brother will, I hope, soon be well,” he observed. “He only requires food and rest.”
“He is not my brother,” answered Robin; on which, thinking it might interest the sick man, he briefly described how he had been carried off by the Indians, and finally, having made his escape from them, been brought to Fort Black.
The stranger was evidently listening with intense interest.
“Tell me, boy,” he exclaimed, interrupting him—“have you no recollection of your parents? What’s your name?”