he night."

"No. He's goin' fast. It's a wonder he's held out this long, poor
Hugh. I never did see a human bein' hang on like him."

"What'll we do, then?"

"Wall, youngster, thar's only one thing to do. That's to pull out
while we kin, 'fore we lose our ha'r. 'Tis a wonder the Injuns ain't
diskivvered us already. Glass is as good as dead, now; but we'll wait
till dark."

"I don't feel jest right about leavin' him, Tom," young Jim objected.
"'Tain't natteral to desart a man, that way, an' we said we'd stay."

"We said we'd stay to nurse him or bury him, but he's past nursin' an'
he ain't quite ripe for buryin', son. He will be, by mornin'; but what
difference to him whether he's layin' atop the ground or under the
ground? An' that's a matter o' twelve hours to us, an' twelve hours
counts a heap, on the Injun trail. The Injuns can't do him any harm.
They kin harm us a lot. No; it's time we kin light out, an' if we say
he's dead we'll not be lyin', for dead he'll be long 'fore we get to
t'other end. Two live men are wuth more'n one dead man, in this
country; an' we've done our duty to old Hugh, sech as he is. We'd best
take his gun an' fixin's, too; he won't need 'em an' you kin be sartin
he wouldn't want the Injuns to have 'em."

When they left, that night, Trapper Glass appeared to be scarcely
breathing. He could not possibly last through till morning; and by
morning they might be well upon their way. They rode off. It was a
mean thing to do--not at all like Jim Bridger if that was young Jim
Bridger; but he could not stay alone and they neither of them had any
idea that Hugh Glass would be otherwise than dead within a few hours.

When, early in a morning several days afterward, Trapper Hugh opened
his tired eyes and gazed weakly around him, he saw nothing astir except
the birds and rabbits. He heard nothing. He had faint memory of two
companions--knew their names, or thought that he did; but where were
they? The camp-fire ashes were cold; no breakfast smoke arose. He saw
no packs, no bedding; the bones of the she-bear were scattered and
white and dry.

He called feebly.

"Tom! Jim! Hello! Whar be ye?"

Nobody answered. He tried to sit up; looked for his rifle, felt for
his shot-pouch and powder-horn. His two nurses were gone; so were his
gun, horn, pouch that held his knife and flint and steel. He had been
abandoned; and such a blaze of wrath surged through him that he
determined n