Reynolds watched until the bird had disappeared. Then he breathed a
deep sigh of relief, and examined his wounds. His hands were bleeding,
and such clothes as he had were literally torn into shreds. He was so
weak that he could hardly stand, and he sank down upon the ground.

"How long will this keep up?" he panted. "What else lies before me? I
am a poor specimen of a human being now, and unfitted for another
encounter of any kind. This was my own fault, though. That poor devil
I just sent to its doom was merely acting in self-defence. But the
survival of the fittest is the law of the wilderness just as in the
ways of so-called civilization. That bird had what I needed; and that
settles it."

This turned his mind upon the nest, which he suspected was somewhere
near. In another minute he had found it, a mass of sticks, in the
midst of which was a hollow lined with wild grass, and lying there were
three white eggs. Eagerly he seized one, and held it in his hand. Was
it fresh? he wondered, or was it ready to be hatched?

Drawing forth his pocket-knife, he perforated each end of the egg, and
smelled the contents. It was fresh, having been recently laid. In
another instant it was at his parched lips, and never did he remember
having tasted anything half as refreshing. Then he looked longingly at
the other two.

"No, I must not eat them now," he told himself. "I shall need them for
supper and breakfast. The Lord only knows when I shall get anything
more."

The mention of the Lord brought back to him the picture of The Good