He looked up slowly at his dog who was now sitting and slowly beating his tail in the forest litter and whining gently. The man turned his eyes to the axe ten feet away and the signs of six days’ struggle in try­ing to reach it. His tongue ran across his lips and he looked at the sky where the best of the sunrise yellow was being blanched from the hori­zon by a furnacing summer’s day. Slowly, he dropped his face to the log and licked at the wood alcohol mixed with the dew and once more sank into unconsciousness.