“No, herr,” said the guide; “no more. That which you gave me brought life back to me: it would do no more good now. Let me rest and smoke awhile—not many minutes. Then I can go on.”
The pipe was filled and handed to the poor fellow, who held it with trembling fingers to the opened lanthorn; and as soon as he had lit it and begun to smoke, he said feebly—
“Have you matches, herr!”
“Yes, plenty.”
He blew out the light.
“We do not want that now,” he said, handing it back to Saxe, and lying back again, to go on smoking rapidly. “The warmth is coming back to my limbs,” he continued. “I shall be able to walk better, herrs, and it will be best for me.”
“Then you think you can reach the tent to-night?” said Dale.
“Oh yes: we will reach it, herr. It is not so very far now. There will be a fire, and hot coffee, and rugs to cover us from the cold. Oh yes: we are all faint and hungry.”
“But look here, Melk,” said Saxe, “suppose I go down and fetch up some wood and the coffee?”
“No, herr: it is life to me to get down to camp. There!” he cried, making an effort and rising, “I am getting stronger now. It is hard work to walk, but it is best for me after what I have gone through.”