ent sprawling, he made no effort to rise, but lay motionless, his
hot tears falling on the grass.

He could never tell her. That was the bitterest drop in his cup of
grief. The words he might have said yesterday could not be spoken now.
It had been in his power to make her glad, to bring a sparkle into her
eyes. He had had his chance and refused it. Alas! the sorrowful wisdom
that one day had brought, a wisdom that had come too late for him to
profit by it.

He did not know how long he lay there, his tears mingling with the
falling dew. He struggled to his feet at last, limping a little, for the
fall had been severe, and went on his way, still without conscious
purpose. And when long after a silvery expanse shone ahead of him, he
did not realize for the moment that his aimless wanderings had brought
him to Snake River. He stumbled on till he reached the edge of the
stream and saw in the black shadow of the trees a dugout half filled
with water. For the first time in his night of wandering, a vague
purpose took shape in his throbbing brain.

This was Snake River. And here was his boat awaiting him. He would take
it and drift down the stream, meeting the men in the morning. There was
no moon, but the night was clear and starlit, and except for the shadows
cast by the trees on the bank, the river looked a luminous highway.
Though he did not know the hour, he felt sure that it could not be long
before the east began to grow light with the first promise of the
sunrise. It would not be worth while to go home.

He fell to bailing the awkward craft, and found a certain relief in the
necessity for methodical work. The water trickled in again, to be sure,
but less rapidly than he could empty it out. He plugged the largest
crevice with his handkerchief, untied the rotting rope, and pushed out
from under the shadows into the centre of the stream. Then he let the
current have its way, using an oar now and then to keep the dugout from
floating ashore, or going aground on one of the numerous islands which
started out of the water as if to bar his progress. Except as he roused
himself for this purpose, he sat huddled on his seat without moving, his
head resting on his folded arms.

The birds discovered that the morning was coming before Jerry found it
out. Jubilant notes of welcome to the new day sounded above his head. He
straightened himself, and made an effort to throw off the lethargy which
had succeeded his paroxysms of grief