He drew back into his lair, and the darkness came down. Despite
his hunger, he slept fairly well. In the night a little snow
fell at times, but his blanket roof protected him, and he
remained dry and warm. The new snow was, in a way, a
satisfaction, as it completely hid his trail from the glance of
any wandering Indian. He awoke the next morning to a gray,
somber day, with piercing winds from the northwest. He did not
feel the pangs of hunger until he had been awake about a half
hour, and then they came with redoubled force. Moreover, he bad
become weaker in the night, and, added to the loss of muscular
strength, was a decrease in the power of the will. Hunger was
eating away his mental as well as his physical fiber. He did not
face the situation with quite the same confidence that he felt
the day before. The wilderness looked a little more threatening.
His lips felt as if he were suffering from fever, and his
shoulders and back were stiff. But he drew his belt tighter
again, and then uncovered his left ankle. The swelling had gone
down a little, and he could move it with more freedom than on the
day before, but he could not yet walk. Once more he made his
grim calculation.
Pages:
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402