For the first time in his life he felt that he was fighting a losing battle.
A man like this lives so much in the flesh that when his limbs begin to fail him, everything else seems slipping away.

He had gloried in his strength.

He had exulted in the thrill of his life-blood and in the swell of his vast muscles; he had clung to the idea that he was strong as ever, till this last blow came upon him, and then he began to think and to tremble.
When he was able to crawl about again, he was not the same man.

He was gloomy and morose, snapping and snarling at all that came near him, like a wounded bear.

He was alone a great deal of the time during the winter following his hurt.