“You are feverish, Draco, see?” said Sylvester. “You really ought not to have come out a second time. You’ve got a touch of the sun. Look here: we’ll go back and come again to-morrow.”
“No,” said Draco, “no.”
And he tried to rise; but, his legs crumpling up beneath the weight of his body, he fell down and lay full-length on the bare rock.
Sylvester sat down by his side, took off his coat, folded it into a pillow, and placed it beneath Draco’s head.
For half an hour they remained in silence; then:
“I feel better now,” said Draco.
“Good. But you mustn’t go any farther. Do you feel fit to walk back?”
“You go alone—to the nest, I mean. Can you climb down the rope and up again?”
“Oh yes: I’ve done that sort of thing many a time.”
“Well, you go alone. I’ll wait here until you return. As soon as it gets cool I shall feel much better. You are bound to come this way on your way back.”