The colonel lay buried alive, as it were, like his men; but he slept lightly, and pushing off his sandy bed-clothes at our approach, he struggled to his feet.
Pushing off his sandy bed-clothes at our approach,
he struggled to his feet.
"Who is it?" he asked. "Crawford, where is your guide?"
"Gone another way to look for you, colonel."
"Have the brigs left Ilo?"
"Yes; but both Castro and I doubt if they will reach Arica. They are altogether crazy, and as soon as they left the harbour a strong gale from the north, which will drive them out of their course, sprang up."
"You are rather a Job's comforter," laughed the colonel. "I daresay they will arrive all right. Still," he continued, speaking more to himself, "everything depends upon their safe arrival—everything! Jump in, Crawford, and have a nap; I may want you presently."
He went away with José, while I got into his bed, pulled the sand over me, and was fast asleep before the two men had gone a dozen yards.