t two or three days longer. I saw the
necessity of placing myself and imaginary companions upon allowance.
The conflict which ensued with the stomach, when I announced this
resolution, required great firmness to carry through. I tried
wheedling and coaxing and promising; failing in these, I threatened to
part company with a comrade so unreasonable, and he made no further
complaint.

Two or three days before I was found, while ascending a steep hill, I
fell from exhaustion into a sage brush, without the power to rise.
Unbuckling my belt, as was my custom, I soon fell asleep. I have no
idea of the time I slept, but upon awakening I fastened my belt,
scrambled to my feet, and pursued my journey. As night drew on I
selected a camping-place, gathered wood into a heap, and felt for my
lens to procure fire. It was gone. If the earth had yawned to swallow
me I would not have been more terrified.

The only chance for life was lost. The last hope had fled. I seemed to
feel the grim messenger who had been long pursuing me knocking at the
portals of my heart as I lay down by the side of the wood pile and
covered myself with limbs and sage brush, with the dreadful conviction
that my struggle of life was over, and I should rise no more. The
flood gates of misery seemed now to be opened, and it rushed in living
tide upon my soul. With the rapidity of lightning, I ran over every
event of my life. Thoughts doubled and trebled upon me, until I saw,
as if in vision, the entire past of my existence. It was all before
me, as if painted with a sunbeam, and all seemingly faded like the
phantoms of a vivid dream.

As calmness returned, reason resumed her empire. Fortunately the
weather was comfortable. I summoned all the powers of my memory,
thought over every foot of the day's travel, and concluded that the
glass must have become detached from my belt while sleeping. Five long
miles over the hills must be retraced to regain it. There was no
alternative, and before daylight I had staggered over half the
distance. I found the lens on the spot where I had slept. No incident
of my journey brought with it more of joy and relief.

Returning to the camp of the previous night, I lighted the pile I had
prepared, and lay down for a night of rest. It was very cold, and
towards morning commenced snowing. With difficulty I kept the fire
alive. Sleep was impossible. When daylight came, I was impressed with
the idea that I must go on despite the storm.