Chapter 10
Once a day I descend to the base of the cliff and hunt, and fill
my stomach with water from a clear cold spring. I have three
gourds which I fill with water and take back to my cave against
the long nights. I have fashioned a spear and a bow and arrow,
that I may conserve my ammunition, which is running low. My clothes
are worn to shreds. Tomorrow I shall discard them for leopard-skins
which I have tanned and sewn into a garment strong and warm. It is
cold up here. I have a fire burning and I sit bent over it while
I write; but I am safe here. No other living creature ventures
to the chill summit of the barrier cliffs. I am safe, and I am
alone with my sorrows and my remembered joys--but without hope.
It is said that hope springs eternal in the human breast; but there
is none in mine.
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