But these savages, who had never read our Saviour’s beautiful parable of the good Samaritan, acted the Samaritan’s part to the white man whom they found in utter helplessness and destitution.  They kneeled around him, trying to minister to his wants.  One of them had a watermelon.  He cut from it a slice of the rich and juicy fruit, and entreated him to eat it.  But his stomach rejected even that delicate food.

They then, by very expressive signs, told him that if he did not take some nourishment he would die and be buried there—­“a thing,” Crockett writes, “I was confoundedly afraid of, myself.”  Crockett inquired how far it was to any house.  They signified to him, by signs, that there was a white man’s cabin about a mile and a half from where they then were, and urged him to let them conduct him to that house.  He rose to make the attempt.  But he was so weak that he could with difficulty stand, and unsupported could not walk a step.

One of these kind Indians offered to go with him; and relieving Crockett of the burden of his rifle, and with his strong arm supporting and half carrying him, at length succeeded in getting him to the log hut of the pioneer.  The shades of night were falling.  The sick man was so far gone that it seemed to him that he could scarcely move another step.  A woman came to the door of the lowly hut and received them with a woman’s sympathy.  There was a cheerful fire blazing in one corner, giving quite a pleasing aspect to the room.  In another corner there was a rude bed, with bed-clothing of the skins of animals.  Crockett’s benefactor laid him tenderly upon the bed, and leaving him in the charge of his countrywoman, bade him adieu, and hastened away to overtake his companions.

What a different world would this be from what it has been, did the spirit of kindness, manifested by this poor Indian, universally animate human hearts!

“O brother man! fold to thy heart thy brother: 
Where pity dwells the peace of God is there;
To worship rightly is to love each other,
Each smile a hymn, each kindly word a prayer.”

The woman’s husband was, at the time, absent.  But she carefully nursed her patient, preparing for him some soothing herb-tea.  Delirium came, and for several hours, Crockett, in a state of unconsciousness, dwelt in the land of troubled dreams.  The next morning he was a little more comfortable, but still in a high fever, and often delirious.

It so happened that two white men, on an exploring tour, as they passed along the trail, met the Indians, who informed them that one of their sick countrymen was at a settler’s cabin at but a few miles’ distance.  With humanity characteristic of a new and sparsely settled country they turned aside to visit him.  They proved to be old acquaintances of Crockett.  He was so very anxious to get back to the camp where he had left his companions, and who, knowing nothing of his fate, must think it very strange that he had thus deserted them, that they, very reluctantly, in view of his dangerous condition, consented to help him on his way.