exhaustion. The fishermen's were rude ways, not founded on any scientific reasons, but often tried in actual experience; they sometimes succeeded and they succeeded now; the heart of the man began to beat feebly, the sea water poured from his mouth, a shiver ran through all his frame; he awoke to life. He was a large, sinewy, supple-limbed man; he wore canvas drawers and a belt of leather; he was burnt almost black by the sun from the forehead to the waist. He was about fifty years old, or more. He raised himself into a sitting posture on the sands, and stared into the dusk with wild, fierce, suspicious eyes, not knowing where he was, not seeing the girl in the deep shadows, not understanding what had come to him.
'Do not give me up,' he muttered; and his hands felt at his ankles and his wrists, as if seeking something familiar that was not there. He lifted his head and glared around, trying to pierce the gloom. He was confused and stupefied, but his eyes had ferocity and fear like those of a captured wild beast.
'If I had only a knife!' he muttered. 'If I had only a knife!
Musa listened and was sorry for him.
