He felt so much weakness and depression that the possibility of capture or death could not add to it.
Young Fulton was not hungry,--the chill and following fever had taken his appetite away so thoroughly,--but he felt that he must eat.

He found some early berries in the thickets and they restored his strength a little, but the fare was so thin and unsubstantial that he decided to look for game.

He could never reach Fannin or anybody else in his present reduced condition.
He saw a line of oaks, which he knew indicated the presence of a water-course, probably one of the shallow creeks, so numerous in Eastern Texas, and he walked toward it, still dizzy and his footsteps dragging.
His head was yet aching, and the sun, which was now out in full brightness, made it worse, but he persisted, and, after an interminable time, he reached the shade of the oaks, which, as he surmised, lined both sides of a creek.
He drank of the water, rested a while, and then began a search of the oaks.

He was looking for squirrels, which he knew abounded in these trees, and, after much slow and painful walking, he shot a fine fat one among the boughs.

Then followed the yet more mighty task of kindling a fire with sticks and tinder, but just when he was completely exhausted, and felt that he must fail, the spark leaped up, set fire to the white ash that he had scraped with his knife, and in a minute later a good fire was blazing.
He cooked the tenderest parts of the squirrel and ate, still forcing his appetite.