“I have not if there is any truth in a compass. I laid down our course, and we have not deviated a bit. The sun and stars too have endorsed my calculations. Come, lie down and try to sleep. Afterwards we will serve out some more water, and walk all through the night. We must be nearly across now.”
There was no answer made to this, every one lying down to try and forget the agonies of the intense heat and thirst in the sleep which would not come.
Chris and Ned were together, and lay so that they could look into each other’s eyes despairingly; but neither spoke, closing their lids at last so as not to see, though with no expectation of obtaining the much-needed restful forgetfulness. But it came, and when Chris opened his eyes again it was to see by the dull red glow that evening was close at hand.
He raised himself upon his arm, and the faint sound he made was sufficient to rouse Ned, who also sat up, and looked at him wonderingly, as if he did not quite understand where he was, till Chris bent towards him and whispered—“Come outside.”
Ned followed him without glancing at the speaker, and they stood together in the misty heat glow, to note with wonder that some one was moving about from pack to pack and pausing from time to time to pat the mules.
The haze seemed to have thickened with the approaching night, so that the figure was indistinct and hard to see, but after making a few steps Chris said quickly—
“Why, it’s Griggs. What’s the matter with him? He’s staggering about as if looking for something.”
“The water-barrels,” whispered Ned hoarsely, and he caught Chris by the arm.
“What! He wouldn’t,” said the boy angrily. “Let’s see what he’s doing.”
The American evidently heard their approach, for he turned to gaze at them strangely; but he made no effort to join them, standing slowly rocking himself to and fro and saving himself from falling by clinging to the mule at whose side he stood.