Had he a destination?
It was vague as his knowledge of that great waste of mesquite and rock bordering the Rio Grande.

Somewhere out there was a refuge.

For he was a fugitive from justice, an outlaw.
This being an outlaw then meant eternal vigilance.

No home, no rest, no sleep, no content, no life worth the living! He must be a lone wolf or he must herd among men obnoxious to him.

If he worked for an honest living he still must hide his identity and take risks of detection.