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It
was
slight
,
but
running
in
a
direct
line
--
a
proof
that
it
led
to
some
point
of
peculiar
consideration
--
in
all
likelihood
a
watering-place
--
stream
,
pond
,
or
spring
.
Any
of
these
three
would
serve
his
purpose
;
and
,
without
longer
looking
to
the
sun
,
or
the
slope
of
the
ground
,
he
advanced
along
the
trail
--
now
hobbling
upon
his
crutch
,
and
at
times
,
when
tired
of
this
mode
,
dropping
down
upon
his
hands
and
crawling
as
before
.
The
cheerful
anticipations
he
had
indulged
in
,
on
discovering
the
trail
,
soon
,
came
to
a
termination
.
It
became
blind
.
In
other
words
it
ran
out
--
ending
in
a
glade
surrounded
by
impervious
masses
of
underwood
.
He
saw
,
to
his
dismay
,
that
it
led
from
the
glade
,
instead
of
towards
it
.
He
had
been
following
it
the
wrong
way
!
Unpleasant
as
was
the
alternative
,
there
was
no
other
than
to
return
upon
his
track
.
To
stay
in
the
glade
would
have
been
to
die
there
.
He
retraced
the
trodden
path
--
going
on
beyond
the
point
where
he
had
first
struck
it
.
Nothing
but
the
torture
of
thirst
could
have
endowed
him
with
strength
or
spirit
to
proceed
.
And
this
was
every
moment
becoming
more
unendurable
.
The
trees
through
which
he
was
making
way
were
mostly
acacias
,
interspersed
with
cactus
and
wild
agave
.
They
afforded
scarce
any
shelter
from
the
sun
,
that
now
in
mid-heaven
glared
down
through
their
gossamer
foliage
with
the
fervour
of
fire
itself
.
The
perspiration
,
oozing
through
every
pore
of
his
skin
,
increased
the
tendency
to
thirst
--
until
the
appetite
became
an
agony
!
Within
reach
of
his
hand
were
the
glutinous
legumes
of
the
mezquites
,
filled
with
mellifluous
moisture
.
The
agaves
and
cactus
plants
,
if
tapped
,
would
have
exuded
an
abundance
of
juice
.
The
former
was
too
sweet
,
the
latter
too
acrid
to
tempt
him
.
He
was
acquainted
with
the
character
of
both
.
He
knew
that
,
instead
of
allaying
his
thirst
,
they
would
only
have
added
to
its
intensity
.
