He was hopeful that he might see a deer, or even a squirrel, but the animals themselves were likely to keep under cover in such a rain.

He expected a hard hunt, and it would be attended also by much danger--these woods must be full of Indians--but he thought little of the risk.

His hunger was taking complete possession of his mind.

He was realizing now that one might want a thing so much that it would drive away all other thoughts.
Rifle in hand, ready for any quick shot, he searched hour after hour through the woods and thickets.

He was wet, bedraggled, and as fierce as a famishing panther, but neither skill nor instinct guided him to anything.