Pedro accepted the decision in gloomy silence. He made it clear by his attitude, however, that he felt Mr. Livingston was courting almost certain trouble.
Breaking camp, the Scouts shouldered their packs and started doggedly on. With only one burro remaining, practically all supplies and camp equipment had to be carried on their backs.
The climb became so difficult that frequent halts had to be called for rest. Mr. Livingston’s seemingly indefatigable strength began to fail.
“Don’t know what’s the matter with me,” he muttered when Jack remarked upon his pallor. “I thought I had more stamina. This hard climbing seems to be doing me in.”
“Want to camp?”
“No, Jack, with our rations so short, we’ll have to push on without delay, or turn back. I’m thinking maybe I made the wrong decision this morning.”
“We’ve had no more trouble from the Indians.”
“I know, Jack, but they may be everywhere around us. We’re in a precarious position and must be very careful.”
As the day wore on, the party proceeded at a slower and slower pace. Mr. Livingston had developed a sudden fever which came on after the midday halt for lunch.
Though he insisted it was nothing serious, the Scouts were alarmed to see that he shivered violently and alternately burned with heat.