Chapter 50

           ThepurpleshadowsofaTexantwilightweredescendingupontheearth,whenthewoundedman,whosetoilsomejourneythroughthechapparalhasbeenrecorded,arriveduponthebanksofthestreamlet.

           Afterquenchinghisthirsttoasurfeit,hestretchedhimselfalongthegrass,histhoughtsrelievedfromtheterriblestrainsolongandcontinuouslyactinguponthem.

           Hislimbforthetimepainedhimbutlittle;andhisspiritwastoomuchworntobekeenlyapprehensiveastothefuture.

           Heonlydesiredrepose;andthecooleveningbreeze,sighingthroughthefeatheryfrondsoftheacacias,favouredhischancesofobtainingit.

           Thevultureshaddispersedtotheirroostsinthethicket;and,nolongerdisturbedbytheirbodingpresence,hesoonafterfellasleep.

           Hisslumberwasofshortcontinuance.Thepainofhiswounds,oncemorereturning,awokehim.

           Itwasthisandnotthecryofthecoyotéthatkepthimfromsleepingthroughouttheremainderofthenight.

           Littledidheregardthesneakingwolfoftheprairiesatruejackalthatattacksbutthedead;theliving,onlywhendying.

           Hedidnotbelievethathewasdying.

           Itwasalongdismalnighttothesufferer;itseemedasifdaywouldneverdawn.

           Thelightcameatlength,butrevealednothingtocheerhim.Alongwithitcamethebirds,andthebeastswentnotaway.

           Overhim,intheshineofanothersunthevulturesoncemoreextendedtheirshadowywings.Aroundhimheheardthehowl-barkofthecoyoté,inahundredhideousrepetitions.

           Crawlingdowntothestream,heoncemorequenchedhisthirst.

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