I had a few cartridges left--three, to be accurate--in my repeating rifle; the rest I had thrown away to be rid of their weight.

I determined to fire them, since, in my state I thought they could no longer serve either to win food or for the purposes of defence, although, as it happened, in this I was wrong.

It was possible that, even in that endless desert, some one might hear the shots, and if not--well, good-night.
So I sat up and fired the first cartridge, wondering in a childish fashion where the bullet would fall.

Then I went to sleep for awhile.
The howling of a hyena woke me up, and, on glancing around, I saw the beast's flaming eyes quite close to me.

I aimed and shot at it, and heard a yell of pain.