So far as he knew, no human habitation was near.
Night was approaching.

He could go no farther.

He had no food; but he did not need any, for a deathly nausea oppressed him.

Utterly exhausted, he threw himself down upon the grass and withered leaves, on a small dry mound formed by the roots of a large tree.
Crockett had no wish to die.

He clung very tenaciously to life, and yet he was very apprehensive that then and there he was to linger through a few hours of pain, and then die, leaving his unburied body to be devoured by wild beasts, and his friends probably forever ignorant of his fate.