Nothing could have appeared more opportunely than this new hardship to take Rhoda's mind off her misery of the night. Nothing could have brought John so near to her as this utter helplessness brought about through his toiling for her. She looked at him with tears of pity in her eyes, while her heart sank with fright. She knew the terrible danger that menaced them. But she closed her lips firmly and looked thoughtfully at the mite of water that remained to them. Then she held the canteen to DeWitt's lips. He pushed it away from him and in another moment or so he rose.
Rhoda, fastening their hopes to another distant cholla, led the way on again. But she too was growing a little light-headed. The distant cactus danced grotesquely and black spots flitted between her and the molten iron over which, her fancy said they traveled. Suddenly she laughed crazily:
"'Twas brillig, and the slythy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe!"
DeWitt laughed hoarsely.
"That's just the way it looks to me, Rhoda. But you're just as crazy as I am."
Rhoda jerked herself together and tried to moisten her lips with her swollen tongue.
"We must take it turn about. When you are crazy I must try to be sane!"
"Good idea!" croaked DeWitt, "only I'm crazy all the time!"
"'O frabjous day! Calloo! Collay!
He chortled in his joy!'"
Rhoda patted his hand.