It was little wonder, therefore, that the young men referred to had made so short a stay in the town. Following the river, and choosing a beautiful site on its banks farther north, they had pitched their buffalo-skin lodge, and there they had lived for the months preceding our story, cutting cord-wood, fishing and shooting.
We had seen so little of these men that we did not at first connect them with the altered appearance of the old shanty on this bitter winter morning. In a town like ours, the inhabitants of which were composed of such a heterogeneous mixture of men and manners, we did not ask many questions of who or what a man was, unless there appeared to be some good cause for such inquiries. It was only after we recognized in two of the young men the strangers who had passed through the town in the early spring, that the surmise occurred to us that the third might be the inmate of the old house.
We learned that the poor fellow had been ill for some time, and as he grew worse and the weather more severe, his companions had decided to bring him into the town, and see if any better help could not be procured for him than they could give in their camp.
The hearts of the rough and even the most wicked men in the West beat tenderly for the helpless, and it is well known that many of the most hardened among them will give their last cent, aye, even their last crust, to aid such among them as are rendered helpless by accident, misfortune or disease. This characteristic trait of the old-timer was known to these strangers, and their confidence in the manifestation of sympathy for their friend was not misplaced. They had brought the sick man into town upon a rudely-made sled, taking the precaution to wrap him warmly in buffalo robe and blanket, that he might be protected from the cold. The journey over the smooth snow had been safely accomplished, but the bed they found in the rough shanty was of the barest description. They had, however, made the best they could of it. A curtain over the windows, the floor well swept, and the simple furniture, consisting of the merest necessaries, gave it at least a habitable appearance. Here his friends left him.
Learning the poor man was alone, we went to see him. At first, although it was evident he was anxious for sympathy and help, he regarded us with suspicion. The water left by his bedside was frozen in the cup, the fire had gone out, and the cold wind seemed to find its way through every crack and crevice in the rude log walls. The man was pale and emaciated, and, when spoken to, his replies were interrupted by the difficulty of breathing and pain of body.