The Escape of the Dead

I forced water from my canteen between his dead lips. I bathed his face and rubbed his hands, working over him continuously for the better part of an hour. There was where the feeling of the deepest grief that I finally gave up my crude endeavors, a resuscitation. Leaving Powell where he lay on the edge I crept into the cave to work on a door. A sense of delicious dreaminess overcame me. My muscles relaxed when the sound of approaching horses reached my ears. With an effort I started toward the opening of the cave, only to reel drunkenly against a sidewall, and from there slip prone upon the floor.