One can't live with one's finger everlastingly on one's pulse. I had often "a little fever," or a little touch of other things -- the playful paw-strokes of the wilderness, the preliminary trifling before the more serious onslaught which came in due course.

     Yes; I looked at them as you would on any human being, with a curiosity of their impulses, motives, capacities, weaknesses, when brought to the test of an inexorable physical necessity. Restraint! What possible restraint? Was it superstition, disgust, patience, fear -- or some kind of primitive honour? No fear can stand up to hunger, no patience can wear it out, disgust simply does not exist where hunger is; and as to superstition, beliefs, and what you may call principles, they are less than chaff in a breeze.