And the famished wretch would have gladly been a slave again.
Next morning, he must lie and perish where he slept, or move on: he turned to the left, not to go on for ever; probably, ay, too probably, he had been creeping round a belt.

Oh, precious thought of change! for within three hours there was light a-head, light beneath the tangled underwood: he struggled through the last cluster of thick bushes, longing for a sight of fertile plain, and open country.

Who knows?
are there not men dwelling there with flocks and herds, and food and plenty?
Yes--yes, and Dillaway will do among them yet.

You envious boughs, delay me not! He tore aside the last that hid his view, and found that he was standing on the edge of an ocean of sand--hot yellow sand to the horizon! He fainted--he had like to have died; but as for prayer--he only muttered curses on this bitter, famishing disappointment.

He dared not strike into the wood again--he dared not advance upon that yellow sea exhausted and unprovisioned: it was his wisdom to skirt the wood; and so he trampled along weakly--weakly.