mself
upon the snow just where he happened to be, to indulge that craving
for sleep which was upon him. His state of exhaustion fostered these
feelings, and only his brain fought for him and clung to life. He knew
what that drowsy sensation meant. He was slowly freezing. To rest
meant sleep--to sleep meant death.

Slowly he dragged himself up the inclining ledge he was traversing.
The path was low at the base of one of the loftiest crags. It wound
its way upwards in such a fashion that he could see little more than
fifty yards ahead of him ere it turned away to the left as it skirted
the hill. He was using his last reserve of strength, and he knew it.
At the top he stood half dazed. The mountain rose sheer up to dizzy
heights on one side, and a precipice was on the other. He turned his
dreadful eyes this way and that. Then he scanned the prospect before
him--a haze of dimly-outlined mountains. He glanced back, tracing his
uneven tracks until they disappeared in the grey evening light. Then
he turned back again to a contemplation of what lay before him.
Suddenly his staff slipped from his hand as though he no longer had
the strength to grip it. Then, raising his arms aloft, he gave vent to
one despairing cry in which was expressed all the pent-up agony of his
soul. It was the cry of one from whom all hope had gone.

"God! God have mercy on me! I am lost--lost!"

The despairing note echoed and re-echoed among the hills. And as each
echo came back to his dulled ears it was as though some invisible
being mocked him. Suddenly he braced himself, and his mind obtained a
momentary triumph over his physical weakness. He stooped to recover
his staff. His limbs refused to obey his will. He stumbled. Then he
crumpled and fell in a heap upon the snow.

All was silent, and he lay quite still. Death was gripping him, and he
knew it. Presently he wearily raised his head. He gazed about him with
eyelids more than half closed. "Is it worth the struggle?" he seemed
to ask; "is there any hope?" He felt so warm, so comfortable out there
in the bitter winter air. Where had been the use of his efforts? Where
the use of the gold he had so laboriously collected at the new
Eldorado? At the thought of his gold his spirit tried to rouse him
from the sleep with which he was threatened. His eyelids opened wide,
and his eyes, from which intelligence was fast disappearing, rolled in
their gaunt sockets. His body heaved as though he were about to r