here be a God, a creator
and judge?"

As he stood thus muttering to himself, his eyes suddenly became fixed,
and his features horribly distorted.

"Do it not!" cried he, in a shrill tone of horror, that rang through my
head. "It will bring no blessin' with it. I am a dead man! God be
merciful to me! My poor wife, my poor children!"

The rifle fell from his hands, and he smote his breast and forehead in a
paroxysm of the wildest fury. It was frightful to behold the
conscience-stricken wretch, stamping madly about, and casting glances of
terror behind him, as though demons had been hunting him down. The foam
flew from his mouth, and I expected each moment to see him fall to the
ground in a fit of epilepsy. Gradually, however, he became more
tranquil.

"D'ye see nothin' in my face?" said he in a hoarse whisper, suddenly
pausing close to where I lay.

"What should I see?"

He came yet nearer.

"Look well at me--_through_ me, if you can. D'ye see nothin' now?"

"I see nothing," replied I.

"Ah! I understand, you can see nothin'. Ain't in a spyin' humour, I
calkilate. No, no, that you ain't. After four days and nights fastin',
one loses the fancy for many things. I've tried it for two days myself.
So, you are weak and faint, eh? But I needn't ask that, I reckon. You
look bad enough. Take another drop of whisky; it'll strengthen you. But
wait till I mix it."

As he spoke, he stepped down to the edge of the river, and scooping up
the water in the hollow of his hand, filled his flask with it. Then
returning to me, he poured a little into my mouth.

Even the bloodthirsty Indian appears less of a savage when engaged in a
compassionate act, and the wild desperado I had fallen in with, seemed
softened and humanized by the service he was rendering me. His voice
sounded less harsh; his manner was calmer and milder.

"You wish to go to an inn?"

"For Heaven's sake, yes. These four days I have tasted nothing but a bit
of tobacco."

"Can you spare a bit of that?"

"All I have."

I handed him my cigar case, and the roll of _dulcissimus_. He snatched
the latter from me, and bit into it with the furious eagerness of a
wolf.

"Ah, the right sort this!" muttered he to himself. "Ah, young man, or
old man--you're an old man, ain't you? How old are you?"

"Two-and-twenty."

He shook his head doubtingly.

"Can hardly believe that. But four days in the prairie, and nothin' to
eat. Well, it may be so. But, stranger, if