Attempting to enter, he staggered against a tree.
The shoemaker appeared in another direction and the sound of the
hammer was continually with him. Almost overcome with fatigue he decided
to sit down, and then his paddle assumed the character of a companion,
remonstrating with him and advising him to move on.
"I think I'll sit down here," Boyton would say.
"Indeed you won't," answered the paddle.
"But I must."
"If you do you will die. Come on."
Endeavoring to obey the commands of the paddle he continued to stagger
on, falling at every few steps; but regaining his feet and pressing
forward. Intense thirst consumed him and he went often to the brink of
the river and drank quantities of water, burying his face in the muddy
stream; the paddle all the while urging him to move on. Along the top of
the dyke he came upon three posts placed for the purpose of keeping
cattle from getting off the road. These posts became sneering, laughing
men, wearing cloaks flung across their breasts, Italian fashion. They
were insolent, and he challenged them to fight; but they only ridiculed
him.
"You are the fellows that have been bothering me all night," he shouted,
and dropping on one knee, he took a sheath knife from the tender and
plunged it into the breast of one of the men.
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