His home was ten or fifteen miles up the winding river, with two fording-places between. We found at the first a broad, swift stream, swollen by a recent rain. We were glad we had made preparations before starting in, for the water flowed six inches deep over the buggy floor. At the village beyond, Cross-Bear advised us to return by another road, as the river was still rising. Long-Feather, with whose family we also stopped to shake hands, gave the same advice, saying that he would see us safely over the next crossing, but that he was just starting on a long drive in the opposite direction. Good-Boy, who lived near the fording-place, would help, he said. So, following directions, Good-Boy was found. His pony was quickly saddled, and galloping on ahead he piloted us not only to the river-crossing, but all the way to Little Dog's, some miles beyond. Mrs. Little-Dog and ten-year-old Martin greeted us at the door, and inside the house we were cordially welcomed by the blind and almost helpless sufferer. The wife said, "I wanted to go and get medicine for him, but there was no one to take care of him while I was gone." They were miles from the nearest neighbor. And the sick man added, "I didn't like to have our little boy go so far alone." When the physical pain and needs were relieved so far as possible, I asked if there was a Bible. In answer the sick man turned and reached under the pillow at the farther corner of the bed, from which he drew out a little bag, and from that he carefully--almost tenderly, it seemed--took his Dakota Bible and handed me. Such times of drawing near to God, in the homes of sick or sorrowing ones, mean quite as much of added strength and cheer to the white visitor as to those who are visited, and we always come away feeling so glad that we went. Tears were in the woman's eyes as the good-byes were said; and the little boy, with his pony saddled, watched us out of sight, to be sure that we were started on the right road home, as we had been directed.