Yes, he was breathing, but so near dead he
probably would not last long, so why worry? So passed on the Levite.
But next came along a man whom the priest and the Levite despised
because he was a Samaritan. They regarded him as a very poor sort of a
citizen.
But the Samaritan had a heart in him and he had a way of saying to
himself when he saw anybody in distress: "Suppose I was in that
fellow's fix, what would I like to have done for me?" When he asked
himself that question on this occasion, the answer came quick and
strong: "Get down and help him all you can; yes, your business is
urgent, too, but here is a fellow-man in hard luck and you've got the
stuff to help with!"
That is the way the heart of a good sport talks back to a fellow, and
a good sport listens when his heart speaks, and a good sport acts
quickly. So the Samaritan got down off his donkey and ran to the man,
felt his pulse, spoke to him, loosened his shirt and looked into that
ugly wound all bleeding. Then back to his travelling sack and out with
the oil and wine.
Pouring in the soothing and healing stuff, he doubtless said: "There
now, old fellow, you're feeling better already; just keep steady a
bit, and we'll get you out of this; a little water? yes, hold on a
minute--" and down to the trickling stream he runs and brings a cool
drink in his little leather cup.
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