"How is she?" said Sam, tying his horse and the doctor's, while the
latter went in.

"Well," said the oldest man, with deliberation, "the wimmin's all thar
ef that's any sign."

Each man on the log inclined his head slightly but positively to the
left, thus manifesting belief that Sam had been correctly and
sufficiently answered. Sam himself seemed to regard his information in
about the same manner.

Suddenly the raw hide which formed the door of Sam's house was pushed
aside, and a woman came out and called Sam, and he disappeared from his
log.

As he entered his hut, all the women lifted sorrowful faces and retired;
no one even lingered, for the Pike has not the common human interest in
other people's business; he lacks that, as well as certain similar
virtues of civilization.

Sam dropped by the bedside, and was human; his heart was in the right
place; and though heavily intrenched by years of laziness and whisky and
tobacco, it _could_ be brought to the front, and it came now.

The dying woman cast her eyes appealingly at the surgeon, and that
worthy stepped outside the door. Then the yellow-faced woman said:

"Sam, doctor says I ain't got much time left."

"Mary," said Sam, "I wish ter God I could die fur yer. The children--"