Consumed by fever, and agitated by these painful thoughts, he remained for an hour or two, when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps and of human voices.

His sensibilities were so stupefied by his sickness that these sounds excited but little emotion.
Soon three or four Indians made their appearance walking along the narrow trail in single file.

They saw the prostrate form of the poor, sick white man, and immediately gathered around him.

The rifle of Crockett, and the powder and bullets which he had, were, to these Indians, articles of almost inestimable value.

One blow of the tomahawk would send the helpless man to realms where rifles and ammunition were no longer needed, and his priceless treasures would fall into their hands.