It was so rare an emotion to connect with human beings that he hardly recognized it, for men and women, as he knew them, were brilliant, clever creatures, perfectly at home in the midst of difficulties that appalled him.

But, as he watched the old man feed himself like an animal, the emotion that rose in Bull was the sadness he felt when he watched old Maggie stumbling among the rocks.

There was something wrong with the forelegs of Maggie, and she was only half a horse when it came to going downhill on broken ground.
He had always thought of the great strength that once must have been hers, and he pitied her for the change.

He found himself pitying Uncle Bill Campbell in much the same way.
When Bill raised his tin cup he spilled scalding coffee on his breast.
The old man merely set his teeth and continued to glare his challenge at the three.

But not one of the three dared speak a word, dared make an offer of assistance.
What baffled the slow mind of Bull Hunter was the effort to imagine a force so great that battle with it had reduced the invincible Campbell to this shaken wreck of his old self.