About this point the trail which had been growing fainter and fainter, seemed to vanish entirely.  One could move in almost any direction to right or left as he chose, and because of this, previous travel had doubtless scattered and thus left no trail.  It was thought best that this company should spread out and approach the mountains in as broad a front as possible so as to multiply the chances of finding water, and so they started out in pairs, some to the right and some to the left, each selecting the point where water seemed most probable.

Tom Shannon and a companion were one of these pairs.  Tom was one of the few who still stuck to his gun, for he felt that it might save his life sometime.  He and his companion separated about a mile, each looking at all points that showed the least sign of water.  Suddenly a jack rabbit started from a bush, the first game Shannon had seen for more than a month.  He pulled the rifle on him as he was making some big bound and had the good luck to nearly split his head open.  Rushing up to his game he put his mouth to the wound and sucked the warm blood as it flowed, for it was the first liquid he had seen; but instead of allaying his fearful thirst it seemed to make it worse and he seemed delirious.  A little way up the gulch he saw a rock and a green bush and steered for it, but found no water.  He sat down with his back to the rock, his rifle leaning up near by, pulled his old worn hat over his eyes, and suffered an agony of sickness.  He realized that life was leaving his body, and there he sat with no power to move and no desire to make an effort.  It seemed as if he could see plain before him all the trail from where he sat, back over all the deserts, mountains and rivers to the old place in Illinois.  He entirely forgot the present, and seemed unconscious of everything but the pictures of the past.  The mind seemed growing freer from its attachment to the body and at liberty to take in his whole past life, and bright scenes that had gone before.  How long he sat thus he knows not.  His companion was fortunate in finding water, and when he had refreshed himself he set out to find poor Tom of whom he could see nothing.  Going toward where he heard the shot he followed on till he saw him at the rock, almost doubled up, with his face concealed by his hat.  “O!  Tom!” said he, but there came no answering motion, and going nearer he called again and still no answer and no sign.  Poor Tom had surely passed on to the better land, thought he, and salvation was so near.  He approached and lifted the hat rim.  There was a movement of the eyes, a quivering of the muscles of the face, and a sort of semi-unconscious stare such as precedes approaching dissolution.

Quickly holding back his head he poured water between his lips from his canteen and it was swallowed.  Then a little more, and then some more, and life seemed coming back again into a troublesome world, bringing pain with it, and the consciousness of a suffering body.  After a time he felt better and was helped to his feet, and together they went to the water hole where they made a fire and cooked the rabbit which was the first savory meat they had tasted for a long time.  Tom felt better and told his companion how he felt after tasting the warm rabbit’s blood, and how he had nearly gone off into the sleep of death.