“I must rest,” he said, “if I die for it;” and Anderson sat down quietly beside him.
Then sleep, merciful sleep, came to them in their weariness, and they slept till the first faint streaks of dawn began to appear in the eastern sky. It was a dreary, hopeless waking, the salt lake was behind them now, and all around was the plain, bare hard earth in some places, patches of grass in others, not a living thing visible, even the crows had gone, and, though the foul birds had filled Helm with a shrinking horror, their absence was still more terrible, for did it not show that they were plunging farther and farther into the desert, farther and farther from the water without which they could not live out another day. The sun rose higher and higher, till the full force of his rays seemed more than they could bear, and yet the nearest shade was miles away, a line of trees or scrub dim on the horizon.
Neither mentioned the significance of the absence of the crows, though both were thinking of it, but at last Helm said,
“The trees, let’s go for the trees. This is past bearing.”
But Anderson shook his head.
“They ‘re clean out of the way, man,” he said sadly. “Try to hold out a little longer. The old horse is keeping up wonderfully. I never thought he ‘d hold out so long.”
“He’s very nearly at his last gasp,” said Helm, and they relapsed into silence again.
On, and on, and on, the thirst was so bad now they could hardly speak to one another, still they pushed on under the burning rays of the almost vertical sun, every step it seemed must be their last. Was it really only last night they discovered they were lost, only last night? Another mile, and another, and the heat grew unbearable, and Helm, without a word, turned to the left, and made for the trees. Anderson paused a moment, and then followed him, though to him it was giving up the struggle. If they turned out of the path which led to the only water they knew of, turned into this pathless wilderness, what possible chance was there for them, and yet how could they stand this terrible heat any longer?
“I tell you I shall go mad,” moaned Helm. “I didn’t think I was a coward, but I can’t stand this. Old chap, don’t let me go mad; shoot me if you see I ‘m going mad.”
“Mad,” said the other bravely, “nonsense, man, you’re all right. You’ll feel better presently when you’ve had a spell.”