highs down, had big holes
in them. Each night I cut a piece of leather from my moccasin uppers,
and boiled it in my cup until morning, when I would eat it and drink
the water. I found afterward, carefully preserved in my match box, one
of the brass eyelets from the moccasins. Probably I put it away
thinking I might have to eat even that.

I knew there was something the matter with my feet; they complained to
me every night. They seemed to me like individuals that were dependent
upon me, and they told me it was my duty to care for them. But I gave
no heed to their complaints. I had enough to do to care for myself.
My feet must look out for themselves. Why should I worry about them?

And still it snowed, night and day--sometimes gently, sometimes
blindingly; but always it snowed. Once while plodding along the side
of a rocky hill, I staggered over the edge of a shelving rock and fell
several feet into a snow drift. I was uninjured, but extricating
myself was desperately hard work, and it was very pleasant and soft in
the snow, and I was so tired and sleepy. Why not give it up and go to
sleep? But she was with me, and she whispered, "Struggle on, and all
will be well," and reluctantly I dragged my poor old body out.

There were times when the feeling was strong upon me that I had been
alone and wandering on forever, and that, like the Wandering Jew, I
must go on forever. At other times I fancied I was dead, and that the
snow-covered wilderness was another world. Instinctively I built my
fire at night under the stump of a fallen tree, if I could find one;
for the rotten wood would smoulder until morning, and a supply of other
wood was very hard to get.

One evening I remember crossing the river, which had now gone into its
long winter sleep tucked away under a blanket of ice and snow, and
building a fire under a rotten stump on the south side behind a bank
near the shore. I felt that I must be well down the valley. My supply
of wood was miserably small, but I had worked hard all day and could
not gather any more. I fell down by the fire and struggled against
sleep. She told me I must not sleep. When I dozed, her hand on my
shoulder would arouse me. Thus the night passed.

At dawn I realised in a vague sort of way that the clouds had at last
broken away; that the weather was clear and biting cold. Before me was
the river. It had been a raging torrent when I first saw it; now it
lay quiet and still unde