So Jack was allowed to remain huddled up on the after-thwart in the uncomfortable position in which he had fallen asleep.
Broncho served out the rations, and whilst they munched their hard-tack Jack stirred and opened his eyes.
"Awake, are you, old son?" remarked the cowpuncher heartily; "you've had a jimdandy sleep. Here's your chuck all ready for you," and he passed over Jack's allowance.
"By Jove! It's dark!" exclaimed the latter; "but why are you fellows having your chow in the middle of the night?"
"Middle of the night——" began Broncho, and then stopped, a look of consternation in his eyes.
"My God! he's off his head!" whispered Jim.
"Never seen such a dark night," went on Jack. "Can't see a yard!" Then, as he felt the warm rays of the sun on his face, "Why, what's happened? Where are you all?"
Slowly the terrible truth broke upon him. For a long minute no one spoke, whilst Jack fought with all his courage and strength of will against an overpowering desire to give way and break down.
This last calamity, coming on top of all the late trials, threatened to overcome his iron nerves, which, sorely tried and weakened by anxiety and privation, were strained to their utmost.
In silence he sat, shaking all over as if with ague, the others watching him with fixed, blank, expressionless eyes, as if hypnotised.