Pride sustained him.
They did not stop until nearly dawn, when they camped by the bank of a creek and ate.

Paul's arms were unbound, and the hatchet-faced chief tossed him a piece of venison, which he ate greedily because he was very hungry.

Then, as the warriors seemed in no hurry to move, he sagged slowly over on his side and went to sleep.

Despite his terrible situation, he was so thoroughly worn out that he could not hold up his head any longer.
When Paul awoke the sun was high, and he was lying where he had sunk down.
The warriors were about him, some sitting on the grass or lying full length, but the party seemed more numerous than it was the night before.
He looked again.

It was certainly more numerous, and there, too, sitting near him, was a white youth of nearly his own age.