A EECOED RUN 69 



ing my spirits sank. But at length I got my wind 

 again and started out more carefully than at first, 

 realising the folly of fighting the brush. The line 

 led downhill for a few hundred feet, a fairly easy 

 descent, across a dry creek bed and up the side of 

 the next ridge, higher by two hundred feet than the 

 last. It was a repetition of the previous climb, but 

 without leaving my line for more than a few yards 

 I took my time and picked the easiest route through 

 the dense cover. This saved clothing and person 

 somewhat but the strain of the continued effort, the 

 faintness from lack of food, and the effects of thirst, 

 which was now a nightmare, were having an effect. 

 At increasingly short intervals I was forced to stop 

 and rest. At first a brief halt was sufficient. But 

 as time went on each breathing spell was longer, each 

 start more difficult. I felt absurdly weak and dizzy. 

 My heart pounded violently on the least movement. 

 And underneath all other discomforts, surrounding 

 and overshadowing all, was the craving for water. 



I had considered the possibility of offsetting to 

 Tierra Blanca. But I knew that this like most of 

 the other canyons was dry now, and the chances of 

 running on a spring were slim indeed. Besides, I 

 felt that if I left my line and went down into the 

 main canyon I would never be able to return and fin- 

 ish the run. And this I was determined, if possible, 

 to do. 



So I kept on, making less and less headway, strug- 

 gling against exhaustion, against the reaction of the 



