“But I can never get there by to-night, nor by to-morrow night either,” he kept saying to himself. “And I shall have to eat, and my money will not hold out till then.”
Again he thought of telegraphing—this time to Sydney. But where should he stay while he was waiting for the answer? Then he remembered how ill Syd still looked, and he recalled the doctor’s inquiry that afternoon in the office as to whether he had had a shock.
No; he must leave telegraphing as the very last resort of all.
He trudged on, and presently saw a tramp coming towards him.
“Good morning,” said the fellow, halting where he came up. “What time is it, boss?”
Rex had just looked at his watch, so without taking it out he told the time.
The man took a step closer to him, but just then a cloud of dust appeared in the road, and a buggy came into view. The tramp moved on without a word.
This incident did not tend to make Rex any more comfortable in mind. And now his body was beginning to rebel.
His stomach felt light, his heart heavy, and his limbs appeared to be weighted with lead. Coming to a spot where trees grew by the roadside he halted and stretched himself on the grass to rest.
He was no longer sleepy, but so tired. He felt that he was going to be ill.