He swallowed it and lit a cigarette, one of the half-dozen still left of the pack he had bought the Tuesday before.
He smoked the cigarette slowly, inhaling as much of the smoke as he could.

This quieted him for an hour, but he had the folly to smoke again at the end of that time, and at once--as he might have known--was hungry again.

Until dark he struggled along, drinking water continually, chewing chips of wood, toothpicks, bits of straw, anything so that the action of his jaws might cheat the demands of his stomach.

Toward half-past seven in the evening he returned to his room in the Reno House.

If he could get to sleep that would be best of all.