“Oh, I say,” cried Ned dolefully, “I wish you wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t what?”
“Talk about the heat on the salt plains. We’re going to start off afresh to-morrow morning, and I shall begin dreaming about what we went through over yonder.”
“Poor old chap!”
“Ah, you may laugh, but it’ll all come back like a nightmare, with the burning thirst and giddiness, and the black spots before one’s eyes.”
“That’s biliousness,” said Chris, speaking authoritatively, like a doctor’s son.
“I don’t care what it is. It’s very horrible,” said Ned, “and if I thought we were going through a time like that again I should want to stop at home.”
“Where’s that?” said Chris dryly.
“Ah, to be sure,” said Ned, with a sigh. “I forgot where we were. I suppose there’ll be no home again till we’ve found the gold.”
“And that won’t be to-night,” said Chris, as a shrill whistle rang out through the clear evening air. “There’s old Griggs calling us just as if we were dogs. I’ve a good mind not to hear.”