The poor wretch at their feet twisted around and revealed a scarred, marked face with sightless eyes. After great effort, he whispered, hoarsely:
"Water! water! Give me water!"
Luckily, Nattie carried a canteen-shaped bottle of the precious fluid. Bending over, he placed it to the sufferer's lips. With what joy and relief did he drink! The draught placed new life in him. He presently gasped:
"Who is—is here? Is it Grant—Grant Manning?"
"Yes, it is I," quickly replied the lame youth. "Can I do anything for you? Ha! why do I ask such a question? Quick, Nattie, Mori; we must take him to the nearest town. He needs medical attendance at once."
"It is too late," groaned Round. "I am a dead man. The end of the world is at hand, and I am caught in sin. The others——"
"What of them?" asked Grant, eagerly.
"They are gone."
"Dead?"