Still, he had never before been so denuded of everything as he was at this moment.
Still, he must make up his mind to something. He arose, stifling an oath, and whistling to his dog, the only being that remained faithful in his misfortunes, he set out, not even taking the trouble to find out his direction. In fact, what need had he to choose one? Were not all good for him, and would they not all lead within a given period to the same end—death?
He walked on thus for several hours with drooping head, seeing the bighorns and asshatas bounding round, as if mocking him. The buffaloes scarce deigned to raise their heads as he passed, and looked at him with their large melancholy eyes, as if comprehending that their implacable foe was disarmed, and they had nothing to fear from him. The elks, balanced on the points of the rocks, leaped and sported round him, while his dog, who did not at all comprehend this very novel affair, looked at its master, and seemed to ask him what it all meant.
The day passed thus, without producing the least change for the better in the squatter's position; but, on the contrary, aggravating it. At nightfall he fell on the sand, exhausted by fatigue and hunger. The sun had disappeared, and the darkness was already invading the prairie. The howling of the wild beasts could be heard as they emerged from their lair to quench their thirst and go in search of food. The disarmed squatter could not light a fire to keep them at bay.
He looked around him; a last instinct of preservation, perhaps, or the final gleam of hope, that divine spark which is never extinguished in the heart of the most unfortunate man, urged him to seek a shelter. He climbed up a tree, and after tying himself securely, through fear of a fall, if, as was very improbable, he fell asleep, he closed his eyes and sought slumber, in order to cheat for a few moments, at any rate, that hunger which devoured him, and forget his deplorable position.
But sleep does not thus visit the unfortunate, and obstinately refused to come, when most earnestly invoked. No one, who has not experienced it, can imagine the horror of a sleepless night in the desert! The darkness is peopled with mournful spectres, the wild beasts roar, the serpents twine round the trees, and at times clasp in their cold and viscous coils the wretched man half-dead with terror.
No one can say of how many centuries a minute is composed in this terrible situation, or the length of this nightmare, during which the sickly mind creates the most monstrous lucubrations. Especially when the stomach is empty, and, through that very circumstance, the brain is more easily invaded by delirium.
At sunrise the squatter breathed a sigh of relief. And yet, of what consequence to him was the appearance of light, for it was only the beginning of a day of intolerable suffering and frightful torture? But, at any rate, he could see, he could notice, what went on around him; the sun warmed and restored him some slight strength. He came down from the tree in which he had passed the night, and continued his journey.
Why did he go on? He did not know himself; still, he walked as if he had a point to reach, although he was perfectly well aware he had no help to expect from anyone, and that, on the contrary, the first face he perceived would be that of an enemy.
But the man whose mind is powerfully constituted is so. He never gives up; he struggles to the last moment, and if he cannot trust to Providence, he hopes in accident, without daring to confess it to himself.