"Thanks! I think I'll go to sleep. I'll feel better to-morrow."
He fell asleep, but his rest was broken, for he moved his limbs and muttered now and then. It was a heavy, gray afternoon, with a cold wind rippling the leaden pools and rustling the reeds, and the watchers felt dejected and alarmed. Neither had any medical knowledge, and they were a very long way from the settlements. Rocky hillsides and wet muskegs, which they could not cross with a sick companion, shut them off from all help. Their provisions were not plentiful; and the rigorous winter would soon set in.
They scarcely spoke to each other as the afternoon wore away. When supper time came, Harding roused Blake and tried to give him a little food. He could not eat, however, and soon sank again into a restless sleep. His companions sat disconsolately beside the fire as night closed in. Their clothes were damp and splashed with mud, for they had had to cross a patch of very soft muskeg to gather wood among a clump of rotting spruces. The wind was searching, the reeds clashed and rustled drearily, and even the splash of the ripples on a neighboring pool was depressing. As in turn they kept watch in the darkness their hearts sank.
The next morning Blake was obviously worse. He insisted irritably that he would be all right again in a day or two, but the others felt dubious.
"How often must I tell you that the thing will wear off?" he said.
"You needn't look so glum."
"I thought I was looking pretty cheerful," Harding objected with a forced laugh. "Anyway, I've been working off my best stories for the last hour, and I really think that one about the Cincinnati man———"
"You overdo the thing," Blake interrupted crossly; "and the way Benson grins at your thread-bare jokes would worry me if I were well! Do you suppose I'm a fool and don't know what you think?" He raised himself on his elbow, speaking angrily. "Try to understand that this is merely common malaria! I've had it several times; but it doesn't bother you when you're out of the tropics. Why, Bertram—very good fellow, Bertram; so's his father. If anybody speaks against my cousin, let him look out for me!"
He paused a moment, looking around him dazedly.
"Getting off the subject, wasn't I? Can't think with this pain in my head and back; but don't worry. Leave me alone; I'll soon be on my feet again."
Lying down, he turned away from them, and during the next few hours he dozed intermittently.