All smells were alike to him now, and of sounds he made no distinction.
Challoner was nearly done for.

Every muscle and bone in his body had its ache.

Yet in his face, sweaty and grimed, was a grin of pride.
"You plucky little devil," he said, contemplating the limp sack as he loaded his pipe for the first time that afternoon.

"You--you plucky little devil!" He tied the end of Neewa's rope halter to a sapling, and began cautiously to open the grub sack.

Then he rolled Neewa out on the ground, and stepped back.