He ceased, and lay for a while without opening his eyes. Then, turning over on his side, he huddled himself up for warmth, and resigned himself to what the night might bring—rest, or the fever of sleeplessness.
CHAPTER II
Morning broke with the clear brightness of an autumn sky above the hills.
At the first sight of dawn, the old man limped out from his cave, beat his hands together, and stamped his sound leg repeatedly, to get some warmth into his body. And as he did so, he thought:
“So! Once more Death has passed me by. Not worth taking....”
Then, penitently, he whispered:
“Lord, Thy will be done! Thanks be to Thee for the night that is gone, and for all trials that are sent from Thee. Be not angry, Lord, if I long for the peace of Death.”
The sun came up, and the man sat down on a stone, bared his head and stretched out his hands to meet the warmth of the first rays; he smiled towards the light, that gave but little warmth as yet.
When the first cold of waking had passed, he ate his last scraps of food, and prepared to move.
The mood of last night and his gloomy thoughts seemed strange to remember now; he smiled involuntarily at the difference between his feeling then and now.