Without movement he lay on his back， and he couldhear， slowly drawing near and nearer， the wheezing intakeand output of the sick wolf’s breath. It drew closer， evercloser， through an infinitude of time， and he did not move.
It was at his ear. The harsh dry tongue grated like sandpaperagainst his cheek. His hands shot out—or at least he willedthem to shoot out. The fingers were curved like talons， butthey closed on empty air. Swiftness and certitude requirestrength， and the man had not this strength.
The patience of the wolf was terrible. The man’s patiencewas no less terrible. For half a day he lay motionless，fighting off unconsciousness and waiting for the thing thatwas to feed upon him and upon which he wished to feed.
Sometimes the languid sea rose over him and he dreamedlong dreams； but ever through it all， waking and dreaming，he waited for the wheezing breath and the harsh caress ofthe tongue.
He did not hear the breath， and he slipped slowly fromsome dream to the feel of the tongue along his hand. Hewaited. The fangs pressed softly； the pressure increased；the wolf was exerting its last strength in an effort to sinkteeth in the food for which it had waited so long. But theman had waited long， and the lacerated hand closed on thejaw. Slowly， while the wolf struggled feebly and the handclutched feebly， the other hand crept across to a grip. Fiveminutes later the whole weight of the man’s body was ontop of the wolf. The hands had not sufficient strength tochoke the wolf， but the face of the man was pressed closeto the throat of the wolf and the mouth of the man wasfull of hair. At the end of half an hour the man was awareof a warm trickle in his throat. It was not pleasant. It waslike molten lead being forced into his stomach， and it wasforced by his will alone. Later the man rolled over on hisback and slept.
There were some members of a scientific expeditionon the whale-ship Bedford. From the deck they remarkeda strange object on the shore. It was moving down thebeach toward the water. They were unable to classify it，and， being scientific men， they climbed into the whaleboatalongside and went ashore to see. And they sawsomething that was alive but which could hardly be calleda man. It was blind， unconscious. It squirmed along theground like some monstrous worm. Most of its effortswere ineffectual， but it was persistent， and it writhed andtwisted and went ahead perhaps a score of feet an hour.
Three weeks afterward the man lay in a bunk on thewhale-ship Bedford， and with tears streaming down hiswasted cheeks told who he was and what he had undergone.
He also babbled incoherently of his mother， of sunnySouthern California， and a home among the orange grovesand flowers.
The days were not many after that when he sat at tablewith the scientific men and ship’s officers. He gloated overthe spectacle of so much food， watching it anxiously as itwent into the mouths of others. With the disappearance ofeach mouthful an expression of deep regret came into hiseyes. He was quite sane， yet he hated those men at mealtime.
He was haunted by a fear that the food would notlast. He inquired of the cook， the cabin-boy， the captain，concerning the food stores. They reassured him countlesstimes； but he could not believe them， and pried cunninglyabout the lazarette to see with his own eyes.
It was noticed that the man was getting fat. He grewstouter with each day. The scientific men shook theirheads and theorized. They limited the man at his meals，but still his girth increased and he swelled prodigiouslyunder his shirt.
The sailors grinned. They knew. And when the scientificmen set a watch on the man， they knew too. They sawhim slouch for’ard after breakfast， and， like a mendicant，with outstretched palm， accost a sailor. The sailor grinnedand passed him a fragment of sea biscuit. He clutchedit avariciously， looked at it as a miser looks at gold， andthrust it into his shirt bosom. Similar were the donationsfrom other grinning sailors. The scientific men werediscreet. They let him alone. But they privily examined hisbunk. It was lined with hardtack； the mattress was stuffedwith hardtack； He was taking precautions against anotherpossible famine—that was all. He would recover fromit， the scientific men said； and he did， ere the Bedford’sanchor rumbled down in San Francisco Bay.