It had come down to grim hard work; every step was a conscious
effort; and yet he had no time to spare.
The storm had lightened considerably, but the young man's eyes were dull
and heavy; it was a constant struggle to keep awake. He scarcely
attended to the road, but plunged along, careless of where he trod.
Suddenly, however, and for the first time since starting, he came to a
dead halt, and, after gazing about him a moment, cried out in dismay.
And well he might, for he stood in a field, with no sign anywhere of
road or path! In his sleepy inattention, he had lost his way and
wandered he knew not whither.
At first he was too much paralyzed by this discovery to think or act. He
threw himself face downward on the snow, and lay like a log. God was
against him! How could he go on? Ah, how sweet felt that cold bed! Let
him lie there in peace, to move no more! Surely he had done his best;
who could blame him for a failure beyond his power to avert? The
darkness would pass over him, and leave him stretched there motionless;
the first light of morning would mark the dark outlines of his prostrate
figure, and he would not turn to greet it. Daylight would succeed, the
sun would climb the sky and shine down upon him warmly; but he would be
insensible as to the darkness or the cold.
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