You won't fall unconscious, he told himself grimly. Not here, not where another of those things can come back tonight and finish the job. So he got to his feet and tied the empty skin about his waist, but he had only gone twenty yards back toward the place where he had left his guns and purse when he fell down again, half-fainting. He lay there awhile, one cheek pressed against the sand, the edge of a seashell biting against the edge of his jaw almost deep enough to draw blood. He managed to drink from the waterskin, and then he crawled back up to the place where he had wakened.
- The Drawing of the Three page 30