"I shall have to keep my eyes on him, day and night," said Max to himself. "In his present condition there is no saying what he may do."
This knowledge added a fresh horror to the situation. It is bad enough to be starving anywhere, but it is a thousand times worse to have to do so when alone in the wilds with a madman. As soon as they got into camp that night, the second on that awful plain, Moreas commenced to walk in circles round the fire, talking to himself meanwhile, and shaking his fist at the darkening desert. When Max offered him a portion of the dried biltong—all that remained to them in the way of food—he refused it with an oath, adding, that he could not eat when they should be pushing towards their destination!
"You won't be strong enough to reach it at all, if you don't eat something," said Max philosophically.
He, himself, made as good a meal as possible, and then lay down to rest, but he was too anxious for his own safety to fall asleep, until he was quite convinced that Moreas was asleep also. He had no desire that the other should steal a march on him during the night. What he had seen that day in the mountains, when Moreas had stalked Bertram, was quite sufficient to show him that his companion was not one who would stick at trifles. At last, however, he dozed off.
As the afternoon of the next day approached, they saw before them another low range of hills. These, when they approached them, proved to be of iron-stone formation, a fact, which, as soon as he heard it, caused Moreas to utter a cry of joy.
"We are nearly there!" he cried. "Those are the hills of which the Indian told the old man. We have only to cross them, and we shall be at the place where the diamonds are. Let us push on, push on. For heaven's sake, man, stir yourself; there is not a moment to lose."
At last they reached the summit of the last hill, and looked down upon the plains on the other side.
"It is the place! it is the place!" cried Moreas, almost beside himself with excitement. "Yonder is the river he spoke of, and there, away to the right, is its old course. You can even see the big black rocks that he told me of, rising out of the sand. The Saints be praised, we are here at last! We are here at last!"
So overcome was he by his excitement, that it was as much as Max could do to prevent him from setting off at a run down the hillside. This was the place, then, of which the poor, old, half-witted diamond hunter had told Moreas. The place where diamonds were as large as hazel nuts, and could be had for the picking up. He wondered how true the story would prove to be. For his own part, he was not going to pin too much faith upon it. If it turned out trumps, well and good; if not, he could console himself with the reflection that the old fellow had played off on Moreas a grimmer practical joke than had ever been perpetrated on himself. The afternoon was well spent before they reached a spot which they considered favourable for a camp. Max had already noticed with satisfaction that there was a fair amount of game to be had for the shooting, water was abundant, while for the animals there was a greater supply of herbage than they had seen for many a long day. By this time Moreas' head appeared to be quite turned. They had scarcely reached their camp before he was off to try his luck among the sands of the old river bed.
It was almost dark when he returned. When he did so, however, he shook like a man with the palsy.