“I could have taken the gun and gone south over the snow to Fort Pierre, several hundred miles down the river. But I did not go. Latour had not died yet After he died, if I could still walk, I might go.
“All day I sat beside the little box stove, gazing upon Latour. At night I slept lightly, awakening often to see how fever and hunger dealt with Latour. He might die while I slept.
“One day in December, I cannot remember just when, for I myself was often delirious with hunger, Latour again awakened from delirium.
“‘Food, food!’ he gasped. ‘For God’s sake, Recontre, don’t let a man starve like this! Let’s make it up between us; only give me something to eat!’
“His voice was thin like a sick woman’s. His face was the face of a damned man.
“‘Make what up?’ I said sweetly. My voice was also thin. I struggled continuously with a terrible giddiness. I felt as one in a nightmare. I, too, was starving.
“Latour stared upon me with tears in his faded eyes, and groaned. I, too, fetched tears; it was easy to weep in my weakened condition.
“‘I have no food,’ said I; ‘neither can I go in search of any. I am starving, and the snow is deep. Would I not go if I could? Would I not go for _you?_ Can I forget Pelagie and the Blackfeet trip? Can I forget the winter trip to St. Louis?’
“Latour fainted. I shouted feebly with an insane joy; I thought he had died.
“In a few moments he revived, and again begged piteously for food. I wept, and said there was none. Then he became delirious and cursed me like a devil. I never heard such cursing before nor since.
“And the strange thing about it all was that I pitied Latour. But my hate had become a mania; I could not relent.
“What passed after that hour I cannot remember with distinctness. Dreams were real, and reality was a dream. I only remember in a vague way, as though it had happened in a nightmare, that Latour died cursing me; that I sang and shouted; that I crawled out of the hut on my hands and knees, laughing and shouting, and that I saw a band of men coming over the frozen snow from the direction of Fort Pierre. I remember hearing them call my name as with the voices of a dream. I remember that I cried out, ‘Latour has just died!’ And then I remember laughing and crying, not knowing why I did.