For this was the third day of their search, and it was impossible to help feeling that it was the very last upon which they could cling to hope.
It passed as the others had done—in one weary tramp and struggle, but without a single sign of the lost one to give them encouragement to proceed; and at last, when they were bound to return if they intended to sleep again in camp, Shaddy said suddenly:
“God help him, my lad: we’ve done all we can. Let’s get back now. I may think out something fresh by to-morrow morning. I can’t do anything to-night, for my head’s like my legs—dead beat out.”
Rob answered with a sigh, for his heart was very heavy now; and as his companion stood calculating for a few minutes which way they should go, he waited, and then followed behind him without a word.
They were a little earlier this time, but the sun had gone down before they got out of the forest at the extreme corner on the right of their hut; and as they trudged back the puma made two dashes at prey unseen by the travellers, but without success, returning after each cautious crawl and final bound to walk quietly along behind Rob, who, in a dull, heavy, unthinking way, reached back to touch the beast, which responded with a friendly pressure and rub of its head against the extended hand.
And as they crept slowly on, with the trees crowding round them as if to hinder their progress, and the darkness of the umbrageous foliage seeming to press down upon their heads, their journey was made with greater difficulty than ever; for the spirit or energy had gone out of Shaddy, who tramped on as if he were asleep.
It struck Rob once that this was the case, and he increased his own rate so as to try and get ahead of his companion, but as soon as he drew close up his comrade stopped.
“Like to go first, my lad?”
“No, no,” said Rob hurriedly. “Are you sure of the road?”
“No, my lad, because there isn’t one. I’m only pretty sure that we are in the right direction.”