“We can’t stop now till we get there,” he said. “Old man, we must be in time. We must!”
But the other man said nothing. He could not judge, he could only hope. And now at the end of the journey, weary and tired, his hopes had gone down to zero.
The first faint streaks of dawn began to show themselves in the eastern sky, and Stanesby drew a long breath.
“My God! we Ye still a mile away.”
“If they weren’t there last night we’ll be in time.”
“Poor little girl! How thankful she ‘ll be to see us. It’s all right, it must be all right.”
And the light broadened in the east, the rosy light grew deeper and deeper, then it paled to bright gold, and behind, and all around, the world looked dark against that glowing light. Up came the rim of the sun, and Stanesby, urging his tired horse forward, said, “We ought to see the hut now. The confounded sun ‘s in my eyes.”
Turner rubbed his own. But no, against the golden glowing rising sun the horizon was clean cut as ever, only the boundless plain, nothing more.
“Jimmy!” Stanesby’s voice was sharp with pain and dread.
Jimmy raised his head sullenly. He was tired too, and considered himself ill-used.