There was food in his haversack, but he felt no inclination to eat. He went down on his knees, and drank deeply. The water was very cold.
When he had quenched his thirst, which was like the thirst that accompanies a fever, he felt refreshed. He even scorned himself for having been so weak. It was then that he looked about him.
He was shut in on all sides by the great inhospitable mountains. Above was a clear sky, bespangled with a multitude of stars, in the midst of which the full moon shone down into the valley. Then he saw another star, solitary, large as a planet, lower than the others. It was a star that seemed to shine from out of the heart of the mountains.
It was some minutes before he realized what it was. Then the truth came upon him as in a flash. It was not a star at all, but a camp-fire that was burning on the hill-side.
The thought that he was not alone in this desolate and silent region was like the nectar of the gods to one who is faint and weary. The boy cared not in the least who camped on the mountainside; he decided to find out for himself. If they were savages, they could murder him; it would matter little to him. If they were friendly, they might allow him to warm himself by the side of the glowing embers. At any rate he would hear some kind of human speech.
It took him three hours to reach the fire, where he found two men, seated facing one another. A cry of exultation escaped his lips when he recognized Jim Braid and the younger guide.
At once Cortes sprang to his feet as if alarmed.
"Where is my brother?" he asked.
Harry tried to speak, but was not able to do so. He sank down by the side of the fire.
"Some calamity has happened!"