His eyes had a glazed, far-sighted appearance, that wrung the heart of the man who loved him.

Without a thought of preliminaries, McLean leaned in the saddle and drew Freckles to him.
"My poor lad!" he said.

"My poor, dear lad! tell me, and we will try to right it!" Freckles had twisted his fingers in Nellie's mane.

At the kind words his face dropped on McLean's thigh and he shook with a nervous chill.

McLean gathered him closer and waited.
When the guard came with the otter, McLean without a word motioned him to lay it down and leave them.
"Freckles," said McLean at last, "will you tell me, or must I set to work in the dark and try to find the trouble ?" "Oh, I want to tell you! I must tell you, sir," shuddered Freckles.
"I cannot be bearing it the day out alone.