devoir, le devouement, le sacrifice, toutes choses dont

l'histoire est pleine, sont inexplicables sans Dieu.' For
all these we need help. Is it foolishness to pray for it?

Perhaps so. Yet, perhaps not; for 'Tout est possible, meme
Dieu.'

Whether possible, or impossible, this much is absolutely
certain: man must and will have a religion as long as this

world lasts. Let us not fear truth. Criticism will change
men's dogmas, but it will not change man's nature.

CHAPTER XXVII
MY confidence was restored, and with it my powers of

endurance. Sleep was out of the question. The night was
bright and frosty; and there was not heat enough in my body

to dry my flannel shirt. I made shift to pull up some briar
bushes; and, piling them round me as a screen, got some

little shelter from the light breeze. For hours I lay
watching Alpha Centauri - the double star of the Great Bear's

pointers - dipping under the Polar star like the hour hand of
a clock. My thoughts, strange to say, ran little on the

morrow; they dwelt almost solely upon William Nelson. How
far was I responsible, to what extent to blame, for leading

him, against his will, to death? I re-enacted the whole
event. Again he was in my hands, still breathing when I let

him go, knowing, as I did so, that the deed consigned him
living to his grave. In this way I passed the night.

Just as the first streaks of the longed-for dawn broke in the
East, I heard distant cries which sounded like the whoops of

Indians. Then they ceased, but presently began again much
nearer than before. There was no mistake about them now, -

they were the yappings of a pack of wolves, clearly enough,
upon our track of yesterday. A few minutes more, and the

light, though still dim, revealed their presence coming on at
full gallop. In vain I sought for stick or stone. Even the

river, though I took to it, would not save me if they meant
mischief. When they saw me they slackened their pace. I did

not move. They then halted, and forming a half-moon some
thirty yards off, squatted on their haunches, and began at

intervals to throw up their heads and howl.
My chief hope was in the coming daylight. They were less

likely to attack a man then than in the dark. I had often
met one or two together when hunting; these had always

bolted. But I had never seen a pack before; and I knew a
pack meant that they were after food. All depended on their

hunger.
When I kept still they got up, advanced a yard or two, then

repeated their former game. Every minute the light grew
stronger; its warmer tints heralded the rising sun. Seeing,

however, that my passivity encouraged them, and convinced
that a single step in retreat would bring the pack upon me, I

determined in a moment of inspiration to run amuck, and trust
to Providence for the consequences. Flinging my arms wildly

into the air, and frantically yelling with all my lungs, I
dashed straight in for the lot of them. They were, as I

expected, taken by surprise. They jumped to their feet and
turned tail, but again stopped - this time farther off, and

howled with vexation at having to wait till their prey
succumbed.

The sun rose. Samson was on the move. I shouted to him, and
he to me. Finding me thus reinforced the enemy slunk off,

and I was not sorry to see the last of my ugly foes. I now
repeated my instructions about our trysting place, waited

patiently till Samson had breakfasted (which he did with the
most exasperating deliberation), saw him saddle my horse and

leave his camp. I then started upon my travels up the river,
to meet him. After a mile or so, the high ground on both

banks obliged us to make some little detour. We then lost
sight of each other; nor was he to be seen when I reached the

appointed spot.
Long before I did so I began to feel the effects of my

labours. My naked feet were in a terrible state from the
cactus thorns, which I had been unable to avoid in the dark;

occasional stones, too, had bruised and made them very
tender. Unable to shuffle on at more than two miles an hour

at fastest, the happy thought occurred to me of tearing up my
shirt and binding a half round each foot. This enabled me to

get on much better; but when the September sun was high, my
unprotected skin and head paid the penalty. I waited for a

couple of hours, I dare say, hoping Samson would appear. But
concluding at length that he had arrived long before me,

through the slowness of my early progress, and had gone
further up the river - thinking perhaps that I had meant some

other place - I gave him up; and, full of internal 'd-n' at
his incorrigible consistency, plodded on and on for - I knew

not where.
Why, it may be asked, did I not try to cross where I had

intended? I must confess my want of courage. True, the
river here was not half, not a third, of the width of the

scene of my disasters; but I was weak in body and in mind.
Had anything human been on the other side to see me - to see

how brave I was, (alas! poor human nature!) - I could have
plucked up heart to risk it. It would have been such a

comfort to have some one to see me drown! But it is
difficult to play the hero with no spectators save oneself.

I shall always have a fellow-feeling with the Last Man:
practically, my position was about as uncomfortable as his

will be.
One of the worst features of it was, what we so often

suffered from before - the inaccessibility of water. The sun
was broiling, and the and soil reflected its scorching rays.

I was feverish from exhaustion, and there was nothing,
nothing to look forward to. Mile after mile I crawled along,

sometimes half disposed to turn back, and try the deep but
narrow passage; then that inexhaustible fountain of last

hopes - the Unknown - tempted me to go forward. I
persevered; when behold! as I passed a rock, an Indian stood

before me.
He was as naked as I was. Over his shoulder he carried a

spear as long as a salmon rod. Though neither had foreseen
the other, he was absolutelyunmoved, showed no surprise, no

curiosity, no concern. He stood still, and let me come up to
him. My only, or rather my uppermost, feeling was gladness.

Of course the thought crossed me of what he might do if he
owed the white skins a grudge. If any white man had ever

harmed one of his tribe, I was at his mercy; and it was
certain that he would show me none. He was a tall powerful

man, and in my then condition he could have done what he
pleased with me. Friday was my model; the red man was

Robinson Crusoe. I kneeled at his feet, and touched the
ground with my forehead. He did not seem the least elated by

my humility: there was not a spark of vanity in him.
Indeed, except for its hideousness and brutality, his face

was without expression.
I now proceeded to make a drawing, with my finger, in the

sand, of a mule in the water; while I imitated by pantomime
the struggles of the drowning. I then pointed to myself;

and, using my arms as in swimming, shook my head and my