They walked on in silence, three ghostly figures stalking through the dim light of a dream.
“I suppose,” said Daniel presently, “that they’ll not miss us until well after sunrise, if then; so I think our chances are fairly rosy. It all depends on your feet, my girl.”
With the extra mileage due to their detour, the distance to the half-way pool would be about eighteen miles or so; and it was obvious to Daniel that Muriel would not be able to stand more than twelve or fourteen. He therefore glanced anxiously at her every now and then as they pushed forward across the great open plain which lay between the two oases; and at length he noticed that she was limping.
It was nearly four o’clock in the morning, and they were still some four or five miles distant from the pool, when Daniel suddenly took hold of her arm.
“Now I’m going to carry you,” he said.
She did not protest. For some time she had been hobbling forward in a kind of nightmare, her feet sore and burning, her knees feeble, and her brain fevered. The moon had now set, but the stars gave sufficient light for them to see the straight track beneath them. She hardly realized what he was doing as he lifted her from the ground, putting one of his great arms about her shoulders and the other under her knees. In a confused manner she was aware of a feeling of annoyance at her weakness; but presently, nevertheless, her head dropped upon his shoulder. She did not sleep, but she was certainly not awake.
When at last she recovered full consciousness she found to her infinite surprise that the day was breaking, and that Daniel was in the act of depositing her upon the sand at the edge of the half-way pool.
“Good heavens!” she exclaimed. “How far have you carried me, man?”
“About five miles,” he said, rubbing his stiff arms. “Now for a bit of a rest.”
She was wide awake again, and to her great relief she found that her feet were no longer burning. Their wretched captive, however, was entirely exhausted, and was stretched upon his stomach, drinking greedily from the pool.