Warley complied in silence. Lost in wonder at the strangeness of the adventure, he led the way down the glen, up which he had mounted an hour or so before.
The elder man seemed as little inclined for conversation as himself. They proceeded in almost unbroken silence until they had arrived within a quarter of a mile of their destination. Warley stepped on a little in advance as they approached the kloof, and Charles came out to meet him.
“How is Frank?” asked Warley in a low tone.
Lavie shook his head. “Nick has found water, but we cannot get any quantity down his throat I have tried everything I can think of, but in vain.”
“I have fallen in with a man who seems to understand the matter, and thinks he can save him.”
“A man—what, here in the Kalahari? What do you mean?”
Warley hurriedly related what had occurred. “Of course, Charles,” he said, “I can’t answer for his knowledge and skill But hadn’t we better let him try what he can do?”
“Yes, I suppose we had,” said Lavie, after a pause. “I can do nothing for him; and though it is true that the poison is slow in its action, yet it is fatal unless its effects are checked. I’ll go and speak to the man.”
He stepped up to the stranger, and in a few hurried words described the condition of his patient. The newcomer nodded his head.
“Euphorbia poison,” he said; “but I trust we shall be in time. Have you any means of heating water?”