XXXII.

THE TRAVELER FROM ALASKA.

Although the cries for help had now ceased, and were not repeated, our
search was crowned with success in a brief time. Pushing up the valley
for about five hundred yards, amid trees and thickets, we came suddenly
upon a little camp. A lean-to of spruce boughs was rudely built against
the base of the steep hill on the right, which towered upward above it
to a dizzy and remote height, its alternate patches of timber and snow
traced out by the moonlight.

The front of the lean-to was open, and inside, by the glow from a
handful of smouldering embers, we saw a strange sight. In the far
corner, apparently sleeping, lay an old man. On a small sledge near him
were a powder horn, and bullet pouch, a musket and a few pelts.

There was no reply to our sharp greeting, and we ventured closer.
Carteret found some bits of dry wood and threw them on the fire. He
knelt down and blew them quickly into a blaze, which enabled us to see
more distinctly. The old man was breathing heavily, and it needed but a
glance to tell us that he was near to death from starvation or some
illness. His head rested on a pillow of skins, and he was rolled partly
in blankets, which were pushed off enough to show his tattered and
travel-worn clothing. His cheeks were deeply sunken, his gray hair was
long and matted, and his tangled beard reached nearly to his waist.

"There is not a sign of food," said I.

"It's a clear case of starvation," replied Captain Rudstone. "Poor old
chap!"

Just then, roused from his stupor by our voices, or by the warmth of the
fire, the stranger opened his eyes and looked about him wildly. He
clawed at the air with skinny fingers, and tried to speak. I had a
little rum with me, and I poured it between his lips. This brought a
tinge of color to his cheeks and a brightness to his glazing eyes, but
he was too weak to lift his head.

"Who are you?" he muttered faintly. "Friends? Ay, thank God! White faces
once more--after all these months! I heard the shot, and judged that
Indians or trappers were near. I called as loudly as I could, but--but
--"

"The exertion was too much for you and you fainted," said I. "But we
heard your cries, and found you. How long have you been here?"

"Three days," he answered--"three days and nights without food. I ate
the last bite when I reached this spot, and a fortnight before I had
fired my last charge of powder and ball. I was t