A new trouble arose. He found his limbs so weak that he could not stand.
His flesh was hot and dry, his mouth parched, and his eyes were like burning coals.
He had fever.
The fact was appalling enough at ordinary times, but how much more so under the circumstances?
He dare not seek a house, even if he could crawl as far, for he knew that fever meant delirium, and in his delirium he might betray himself and so injure the cause he loved so well.
He had not lived in the mountains without knowing the value of herbs, so he looked around to find those natural medicines which at home had been used by the Indians and most of the white folks of the Green Mountains.
He wanted agrimony, but did not see any; but he did find yarrow in abundance.
Now, the leaves and flowers of the common yarrow, or the achillea milefolium of botanists, are an excellent thing in fevers, producing perspiration and cleansing the blood at the same time; but Eben knew that it should be macerated in boiling water.
Boiling water was out of the question, and, in fact, there seemed to be no water save sea water near, so he gathered a quantity of the leaves and chewed them. The taste was bitter and aromatic, but refreshing to the fever-stricken boy.
After a time he felt a nausea, and stopped eating.