His mind was restored, but he felt an indescribable sensation of weakness, that seemed to him to be the approach of death.

Creeping towards the place where his rifle lay, he fell exhausted beside it, and laid his cheek on the Bible, which had fallen out of his pocket there.
While his eyes were closed in a dreamy sort of half-waking slumber, he felt the rough, hairy coat of an animal brush against his forehead.
The idea of being torn to pieces by wolves flashed instantly across his mind, and with a shriek of terror he sprang up--to be almost overwhelmed by the caresses of his faithful dog.
Yes, there he was, bounding round his master, barking and whining, and giving vent to every possible expression of canine joy!.