Sand was driven into his face with such force that it stung like shot.

The cold became intense, and if it had not been for the serape he might have perished.
The storm was still blowing when he reached the far edge of the plain, and came into extremely rough country, with patches of low, thorny forest.

Here he found a dilapidated bark hut, evidently used at times by Mexican herdsmen, and, thankful for such shelter, he crept into it and fell asleep.

When he awoke he felt very weak.

He had eaten the last of his food seven or eight hours before.
Driven by desperate need, Ned ate wild fruits, and, for a while, was refreshed, but that night he fell ill, suffering greatly from internal pains.