When they camped at the onset of darkness, Sampson and Garth alone remained.
The red-haired giant, swaying on his feet, squinted at Garth, his face haggard with exhaustion.
"Nice going," he said sardonically, after a time. "What now? Maybe we'd better cut our throats."
Garth managed a shaky grin. "We're still okay. And there's only one more day left. Tomorrow—we'll make it then. We've got to."
Unwilling admiration showed in Sampson's eyes. "You're dead on your feet. I don't see how the hell you keep up this pace. Anyhow—we can't go back now. That's settled, anyway."
"Yeah. The others will wake up after a while. We'll have to stay on guard till then."
They did, guns drawn, peering at the silent depths of the Forest around them, while the rest of the party lay motionless, helpless against attack.
After a time Sampson spoke. Garth could not see his face in the heavy gloom.
"What are you after, Garth?"