It was that sleep from which nor dogs nor men ever awaken.
The time rolled drearily on, and at length the sun rose, and the days got rapidly longer and longer; but starvation had done its work.
Not that more died, but several were down with sheer debility, all were weak and poor, Claude could no longer stand.
Paddy O’Connell held out, so did Byarnie and the doctor, but the latter was quieter far than of yore. “The sooner,” said Claude, one day, “the sooner, doctor, it is all over the better.”
One day from the hill-top, Byarnie saw a sight which suddenly struck him with fear and trembling, and sent him on his knees to pray.
Away in the southern sky, some distance above the horizon, was a wondrous vision.
It faded away at last, and then Byarnie hurried off to the camp, his clothes wet with the sweat of fear, to report the matter to the doctor.
“It is all over with us,” he said, “for I have seen a wonderful vision, even as Ezekiel did in the days of the olden time.”
“Have you been dreaming?” said Dr Barrett.