He had completely exhausted himself, so that he was forced to lean against the tree for support.
Wetzel spoke never a word.

He stretched out his long, brawny arm and gripped the young missionary's shoulder.

His fingers clasped hard.
Simple, without words as the action was, it could not have been more potent.

And then, as he stood, the softer look faded slowly from his face.

A ripple seemed to run over his features, which froze, as it subsided, into a cold, stone rigidity.
His arm dropped; he stepped past the tree, and, bounding lightly as a deer, cleared the creek and disappeared in the bushes.
Mr.Wells carried Nell to his cabin where she lay for hours with wan face and listless languor.