Frank forgot that a short time before Jack Diamond had accused him of leading them all to their doom by inducing them to attempt to cross the barren waste—he forgot everything save that his comrade was in danger.
No, he did not forget everything. He knew what that race meant. It might exhaust them both and render them unable to ride their wheels over the few remaining miles of barren desert between them and the mountain range. When Diamond learned the dreadful, heart-sickening truth about that beautiful lake of water it might rob his heart of courage and hope so that he would drop in despair and give himself up to death in the desert.
Frank would save him—he must save him! He felt a personal responsibility for the lives of every one of the party, and he had resolved that all should return to New Haven in safety.
“Stop, Jack!” he shouted again.
But the sight of that beautiful lake had made Diamond mad with a longing to plunge into the water, to splash in it, to drink his fill till not another swallow could he force down his throat.
Madly he sent his wheel flying over the sandy plain, panting, gasping, furious to reach the lake.
How beautiful the water looked! How cool and inviting was the shade of the trees on the other shore! Oh, he would go around there and rest beneath those trees.
Frank bent forward over the handlebars, muttering:
“Ride now as you never rode before!”
The wheel seemed to leap away like a thing of life—it flew as if it possessed wings.