Then came frightful days of snow and rain. The will to live carried him on. It was the life in him, unwilling to die, that drove him on. By this time he had become numb to pain. Half alive, he walked, he stumbled, he crawled until he came to a river. His dull senses told him it was not the same river where he and Bill had left their canoe. He followed the course of the river downstream. He didn't know where he was—it didn't matter much anyway. But he still had the will to live, and he pushed on.