Chapter Twenty Seven.
Won’t You Say Good-Bye?
Every eye kept a sharp lookout as soon as the journey was recommenced, and a strong effort was made to place a few miles between the party and a spot evidently infested with the venomous reptiles of whose power such a terrible example had been seen. Plenty of energy too was displayed for quite a couple of hours. Then it died out at once; the boys and animals seemed as if they could go no farther, and a halt was called in about the barest spot they had seen. Several more suitable places had been passed—places where there was a scanty growth of sage-brush, others where the plain was rocky or encumbered with stones; but the doctor’s word was “Forward,” and the order was obeyed, for in the eyes of the adventurers every bush and every stone appeared to be the haunt of a dangerous enemy.
Where they halted at last the plain all round was thick with a dull silvery haze which intensified the heat of the sun, whose rays seemed to be passing through a burning-glass, and it was only in obedience to desperate efforts that the tent-cloth was stretched for shelter and the animals watered and fed more sparingly than before. The provisions were spread-out, but no one could eat. Every word and look was about the water and directed at the fast-emptying keg that carried it, other vessels having long since been exhausted.
“We must lie here till the sun goes down,” said the doctor, almost solemnly, in spite of his effort to speak calmly; “it would be madness to persevere through this heat. Then we must make a brave effort to reach the mountains by morning.”
“And if we don’t?” said Wilton.
“Don’t say if, sir,” cried Griggs. “We must do it.”
“If there are any to reach,” said Bourne, to himself; but his words were heard.
“If there are any!” cried the doctor hoarsely. “I tell you there are. We saw them distinctly, Griggs and I.”
“That’s so, gentlemen,” said the American. “Then you must have lost your way, doctor.”