But the bodily agony was as nothing to the mental anguish which he suffered. Death was before him if he lay there—death in a painless, insidious form, no doubt; but still, death in all its horror to one so young and strong.
He knew that he must rise and keep moving if he wished to prolong his existence, and he rose to his feet, raging now against the cowardly gang, and more against himself.
“I was a fool and a coward,” he groaned. “Why didn’t I fight for my life? Great heaven! What shall I do?”
He paused for a moment, meaning to turn back and make an attack upon his enemies.
But, unarmed as he was, he knew it was madness, and he tramped on through the darkness in the faint hope of finding help, but with his heart sinking as he grasped the fact that fate or the management of the gang had driven him onward farther into the defile, and away from the aid he might have found if he had made his way back to his morning’s starting-place.
Fully satisfied that death would be his portion, he struggled on aimlessly till utterly exhausted; and then he paused, breathless, to go over once more the scene by the glowing fire, and ask himself whether he had not been to blame for displaying his distrust after the way in which he had been rescued. But he could only come back to his old way of thinking—that he had fallen among thieves of the worst type, and that he owed his life to the prompt way in which he had escaped.
Recovering his breath somewhat, he stood listening as he gazed back through the darkness; but all was still. There were no signs of pursuit, so, taking out his handkerchief, he folded it into a bandage, and with one hand and his teeth contrived to bind and tie it tightly round his wound so as to stop the bleeding, which was beginning to cause a strange sensation of faintness.
He had been hot with exertion when he stopped, but now the feeling of exhilaration caused by his escape died out as rapidly as the heat. A deadly chill attacked mind and body, for his position seemed crushing. It was horrible beyond bearing, and for the moment he was ready to throw himself down in his despair. The intense cold would, he knew, soon bring on a sensation of drowsiness, which would result in sleep, and there would be no pain—nothing but rest from which there would be no awakening; and then—
Then the coward feeling was driven back in a brave effort—a last struggle for life.
The cold was intense, the darkness thicker than ever, for the sides of the ravine had been closing in till only a narrow strip of faintly marked sky was visible, while at every few steps taken slowly the poor fellow stumbled over some inequality and nearly fell.