He had no real fear of death, but he would rather meet the great destroyer on the open field, or in any way but that slow struggle in the solitude of a big grave—a death from starvation.
The strongest soul would quake.
The hours passed along.
Time’s chariot wheels continue to revolve no matter who may wish to stay them.
Max began to think of other things besides death.
He wondered how he could escape. And if he did, how could he avenge his father’s death?
Weary and exhausted, Max at last fell asleep.
Youth had conquered.
Had he remained awake an hour longer he would have been a raving maniac.
Youth asserted itself, and “nature’s sweet restorer, balmy sleep,” came to his relief and saved his reason.