And in that wild, solitary place, lying insensible, in that awful storm and darkness, I had been found by a fellow creature--a savage, doubtless, but a good Samaritan all the same--who had rescued me from death! I was bruised all over and did not attempt to move, fearing the pain it would give me; and I had a racking headache; but these seemed trifling discomforts after such adventures and such perils.

I felt that I had recovered or was recovering from that venomous bite; that I would live and not die--live to return to my country; and the thought filled my heart to overflowing, and tears of gratitude and happiness rose to my eyes.
At such times a man experiences benevolent feelings, and would willingly bestow some of that overplus of happiness on his fellows to lighten other hearts; and this old man before me, who was probably the instrument of my salvation, began greatly to excite my interest and compassion.

For he seemed so poor in his old age and rags, so solitary and dejected as he sat there with knees drawn up, his great, brown, bare feet looking almost black by contrast with the white wood-ashes about them! What could I do for him?
What could I say to cheer his spirits in that Indian language, which has few or no words to express kindly feelings?
Unable to think of anything better to say, I at length suddenly cried aloud: "Smoke, old man! Why do you not smoke?
It is good to smoke." He gave a mighty start and, turning, fixed his eyes on me.

Then I saw that he was not a pure Indian, for although as brown as old leather, he wore a beard and moustache.

A curious face had this old man, which looked as if youth and age had made it a battling-ground.