ree-root for his pillow.

The guide seemed really to fear that, if we did not get out of the
woods that night, he would never go out; and, yielding to his dogged
resolution, we kept on in search of the trail, although the gathering
of dusk over the ground warned us that we might easily cross the trail
without recognizing it. We were traveling by the light in the upper sky,
and by the forms of the tree-stems, which every moment grew dimmer. At
last the end came. We had just felt our way over what seemed to be a
little run of water, when the old man sunk down, remarking, "I might as
well die here as anywhere," and was silent.

Suddenly night fell like a blanket on us. We could neither see the guide
nor each other. We became at once conscious that miles of night on all
sides shut us in. The sky was clouded over: there wasn't a gleam of
light to show us where to step. Our first thought was to build a fire,
which would drive back the thick darkness into the woods, and boil
some water for our tea. But it was too dark to use the axe. We scraped
together leaves and twigs to make a blaze, and, as this failed, such
dead sticks as we could find by groping about. The fire was only a
temporary affair, but it sufficed to boil a can of water. The water we
obtained by feeling about the stones of the little run for an opening
big enough to dip our cup in. The supper to be prepared was fortunately
simple. It consisted of a decoction of tea and other leaves which had
got into the pail, and a part of a loaf of bread. A loaf of bread which
has been carried in a knapsack for a couple of days, bruised and handled
and hacked at with a hunting-knife, becomes an uninteresting object.
But we ate of it with thankfulness, washed it down with hot fluid, and
bitterly thought of the morrow. Would our old friend survive the night?
Would he be in any condition to travel in the morning? How were we to
get out with him or without him?

The old man lay silent in the bushes out of sight, and desired only to
be let alone. We tried to tempt him with the offer of a piece of toast:
it was no temptation. Tea we thought would revive him: he refused it. A
drink of brandy would certainly quicken his life: he couldn't touch it.
We were at the end of our resources. He seemed to think that if he
were at home, and could get a bit of fried bacon, or a piece of pie, he
should be all right. We knew no more how to doctor him than if he had
been a sick bear. He withdrew w