ched the ridges in about two hours. He
found an abundance of rocky outcrop, so much of it that he was able to
walk on it a full mile without putting a foot on earth, but there was no
deep hollow, although he did come to a tiny valley or cup among the
stones, well sheltered from the winds, and here he lay for a long time
on a bed that he made for himself on dead leaves. Toward night he went
out and was fortunate enough to find a wild turkey, which, overcoming
his reluctance, he shot. Then he cleaned it, and, daring all dangers,
lighted a fire in the cup and cooked it.

But before taking a bite of the turkey he made a wide and careful
circuit about the dip to discover whether any wandering warrior had seen
the glow of his little fire, and, satisfied that none had been within
sight, he returned and ate, putting what was left in his pack for future
use. Then he lay down again and felt very grateful. The stars were out,
and, in their courses, they had undoubtedly fought for him. He did not
ascribe his great successes in the face of obstacles that seemed
insurmountable to any especial virtue in himself, but the idea that, for
some unknown cause, he was favored by the greater powers was still
strong within him. He could but thank them and looking up at the sky he
did so without words.

Then, feeling sure that his trail could not be found for hours, he
wrapped his blanket about his body and pillowing his head on a heap of
leaves fell asleep. The sense of watching remained so strong that it was
alive while he slept, and about midnight it awakened him to see what a
noise meant. It was, however, only the hungry whining of two wolves,
drawn by the odor of the turkey, and, throwing a stick at them, he went
back to sleep.

He did not awaken again until morning, and then he felt so warm and snug
in his blanket and on the bed of leaves that he was loath to move. The
dawn was clear and cold, the first frost of the season touching his
blanket with white, and he yawned mightily. While his body was
refreshed, his spirit was not as high as it had been the night before,
and he would have been glad for the pursuit to stop, a day at least,
while he dawdled there among the hills. He reflected that his four
comrades were probably lying at their ease in the oasis, and the thought
brought a certain envy, though the envy contained no trace of malice. He
wished that he was back with them, but the wish vanished in an instant,
and he was his old se