My unsought fame as a medicine man continued to grow. One morning
I heard a white voice outside asking, "Is the doctor in?" Billy
replied: "Mr. Seton is inside." On going forth I met a young American
who thus introduced himself: "My name is Y------, from Michigan.
I was a student at Ann Arbor when you lectured there in 1903. 1
don't suppose you remember me; I was one of the reception committee;
but I'm mighty glad to meet you out here."

After cordial greetings he held up his arm to explain the call and
said: "I'm in a pretty bad way."

"Let's see."

He unwound the bandage and showed a hand and arm swollen out of all
shape, twice the natural size, and of a singular dropsical pallor.

"Have you any pain?"

"I can't sleep from the torture of it."

"Where does it hurt now?"

"In the hand."

"How did you get it?"

"It seemed to come on after a hard crossing of Lake Athabaska. We
had to row all night."

I asked one or two more questions, really to hide my puzzlement.