By and by I had emptied the bowl. It was getting dark. I was
very sleepy. A man came in, but I was too drowsy to pay any
attention to him. I heard the sound of voices. Then I was
picked up bodily and carried to an out-building and laid on a
pile of skins. I felt the weight of a blanket thrown over me--
I awoke in the night. Mind you, I had practically had no rest at
all for a matter of more than two weeks, yet I woke in a few
hours. And, remember, even in eating the calabash stew I had
felt no hunger in spite of my long fast. But now I found myself
ravenous. You boys do not know what hunger is. It HURTS. And
all the rest of that night I lay awake chewing on the rawhide of
a pack-saddle that hung near me.
Next morning the young Mexican and his sister came to us early,
bringing more calabash stew. I fell on it like a wild animal,
and just wallowed in it, so eager was I to eat. They stood and
watched me--and I suppose Schwartz, too, though I had now lost
interest in anyone but myself--glancing at each other in pity
from time to time.
When I had finished the man told me that they had decided to
kill a beef so we could have meat. They were very poor, but God
had brought us to them--
I appreciated this afterward.
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