And not another articulate sentence came from the guide; only his throat swelled with a deep, amazed gurgle as he reached the interior of the shanty, and dropped his eyes upon the individual who raised that queer chanting. On a bed of withered spruce boughs, strewn higgledy-piggledy upon the camp-floor mother earth lay the form of a man.
His stiffened muscles and lips relaxed. With a gurgle of sorrow, he crossed the camp-floor, and dropped into a crawling position on the faded spruces. "Chris!" he cried thickly. "Chris, poor old pard, don't ye know me? Look, man! Herb is right here Herb Heal, yer old chum. You're 'heap sick' for sure; but we'll haul you off to a settlement or to our camp, and I'll bring Doc along in two days.