tisfying nature of the only food I could
procure, I know that from this time onward to the day of my rescue, my
mind, though unimpaired in those perceptions needful to
self-preservation, was in a condition to receive impressions akin to
insanity. I was constantly traveling in dream-land, and indulging in
strange reveries such as I had never before known. I seemed to possess
a sort of duality of being, which, while constantly reminding me of
the necessities of my condition, fed my imagination with vagaries of
the most extravagant character. Nevertheless, I was perfectly
conscious of the tendency of these morbid influences, and often tried
to shake them off, but they would ever return with increased force,
and I finally reasoned myself into the belief that their indulgence,
as it afforded me pleasure, could work no harm while it did not
interfere with my plans for deliverance. Thus I lived in a world of
ideal happiness, and in a world of positive suffering at the same
time.

A change in the wind and an overcast sky, accompanied by cold, brought
with them a need of warmth. I drew out my lens and touchwood, but
alas! there was no sun. I sat down on a log to await his friendly
appearance. Hours passed; he did not come. Night, cold, freezing
night, set in, and found me exposed to all its terrors. A bleak
hill-side sparsely covered with pines afforded poor accommodations for
a half-clad, famished man. I could only keep from freezing by the most
active exertion in walking, rubbing, and striking my benumbed feet and
hands against the logs. It seemed the longest, most terrible night of
my life, and glad was I when the approaching dawn enabled me to
commence retracing my steps to Bessie Lake. I arrived there at noon,
built my first fire on the beach, and remained by it, recuperating,
for the succeeding two days.

The faint hope that my friends might be delayed by their search for me
until I could rejoin them now foresook me altogether. I made my
arrangements independent of it. Either of three directions I might
take would effect my escape, if life and strength held out. I drew
upon the sand of the beach a map of these several courses with
reference-to my starting-point from the lake, and considered well the
difficulties each would present. All were sufficiently defined to
avoid mistake. One was to follow Snake River a distance of one hundred
miles or more to Eagle Rock bridge; another, to cross the country
between the southern