The loss of his eyeglasses was calamitous. Out in the lake he saw what he took for a boat coming to land, and he joyfully hastened to the shore to meet it. But when his "boat" took wings and transformed itself into a huge pelican, he was unnerved and almost lost hope. At this lake he fortunately discovered a species of thistle with large edible roots, and these formed his principal sustenance for weeks. He took up the uncertain fight for primitive necessities. At the lake he became afraid, imagining that a mountain lion was near. He climbed into a tree and remained there most of the night. When at last he descended, half frozen, a heavy September snowstorm was coming on. To avoid freezing to death, he built a rude shelter of boughs over one of the hot springs. In the boiling water he cooked his thistle-roots. For several days he remained in this shelter; then, realizing that if he stayed longer he might perish in another storm, he traveled on. Day after day, Everts hoped that his companions would find him. During two weeks they searched diligently, leaving small deposits of food at places where they thought he might pass. They fired guns, put up signs, and lighted fires on the heights; but the rough, wooded nature of the country, and Everts's near-sightedness, made these efforts unavailing. Reluctantly his friends gave up the search and went on; but when they reached a settlement they sent back a rescue party. Necessity stimulates thought. The only thing remaining in Everts's pockets was a little field-glass. Remembering that a lens would concentrate the sun's rays, he concluded that with his glass he might start a fire, and in this he succeeded. Onward he traveled. If a day came with the sky overcast, he had to camp at night without a fire. To relieve the discomfort of this, for several days he carried a brand, but this burned his hands and smoked his eyes so severely, and so often went out, that at last he abandoned it and depended entirely upon the lens. One afternoon he stopped with the intention of building a fire. But the lens was missing. Almost exhausted, he dragged himself back to his last camp, and there, fortunately, the lens was found. During a storm a benumbed bird fell into his hands, and he devoured it raw. In vain he tried to catch fish. As he stood on the margin of Yellowstone Lake, a gull's wing drifted ashore. This supplied his only satisfying meal. It was instantly stripped of its feathers, pounded between stones, and boiled in a tin can which Everts had found. Hastily devouring the unsalted soup, he lay down and slept for several hours.