Any of the three could have saved him, but the spectacle of the terrible old man's helplessness benumbed their senses and their muscles.
"Carry me in!" said Bill at last.
Bull lifted him and bore him gingerly through the door and placed him on the bunk.

The light revealed a grisly spectacle.

Crimson stains and dirt literally covered him; his left leg was bandaged below the knee; his right shoulder was roughly splinted with small twigs and swathed in cloth.
The long ride, with his legs tied in place, had apparently paralyzed his nerves below the hips.

He remained crushed against the wall, his legs falling in the odd position in which they were put down by Bull.
It was illustrative of his character that, even in this crisis, not one of the three dared venture an expression of sympathy, a question, a suggestion.
Crumpled against the wall, his head bowed forward and cramped, the stern old man still controlled them with the upward glance of his eyes through the shag of eyebrows.
"Gimme my pipe," he commanded.
Three hands reached for it--pipe, tobacco, matches were proffered to him.

Before he accepted the articles he swept their faces with a glance of satisfaction.