WhenthenoiseofpursuitceasedDuanesatdowninthedarkness，hismindclampedbetweentwothings——whethertotryagaintoescapeorwaitforpossibleopportunity。Heseemedincapableofdecision。Hisintelligencetoldhimthateveryhourlessenedhischancesforescape。Hehadlittleenoughchanceinanycase，andthatwaswhatmadeanotherattemptsodesperatelyhard。Stillitwasnotloveoflifethatboundhim。
Therewouldcomeanhour，soonerorlater，whenhewouldwrenchdecisionoutofthischaosofemotionandthought。Butthattimewasnotyet。
hehadremainedquietlongenoughtocooloffandrecoverfromhisrunhefoundthathewastired。Hestretchedouttorest。
Buttheswarmsofviciousmosquitoespreventedsleep。Thiscornerofthebrakewaslowandneartheriver，abreeding—groundfortheblood—suckers。Theysangandhummedandwhinedaroundhiminanever—increasinghorde。Hecoveredhisheadandhandswithhiscoatandlaytherepatiently。Thatwasalongandwretchednight。Morningfoundhimstillstrongphysically，butinadreadfulstateofmind。
Firsthehurriedfortheriver。Hecouldwithstandthepangsofhunger，butitwasimperativetoquenchthirst。Hiswoundmadehimfeverish，andthereforemorethanusuallyhotandthirsty。