A light heat-mist was quivering over the plains. The air was intensely hot and dry.
Lumley stopped his horse too.
"Thought you were never goin' to speak again," he said jeeringly. "I know the track well enough. We shall see water in another twenty-four hours, take my word for it."
Gray marvelled within himself how it was possible to follow any track in such a place as this. They had been riding for miles and miles without seeing a tree or a hillock, or even a dry water-course. One mile was exactly like any other mile. But he said nothing more to his companion. Silence was a boon Gray craved almost as much as he longed for water. At first Lumley had thrust his talk upon him, and found pleasure in the misery he inflicted on Gray by his coarse jokes and cruel jeers. But he had grown more silent lately, and for the last hour or so had not spoken at all.
He was riding now a little in advance of Gray, looking round him with somewhat anxious eyes. He was looking for a group of cypress-trees. He felt sure they were riding in the right direction, but he had a strong reason for wishing to see them rise on the horizon before another halt. When once he saw them his course would be clear and easy. He would know his position exactly, and reach water in an hour or two.
Gray saw that his companion was looking for some landmark; but Lumley said nothing of the object of his search. He had never mentioned the cypress-trees to Gray. Gray had asked him once how he would guide himself across the desert, and he had refused to answer.
"You'd like to make off by yourself, wouldn't you?" he had said with a jeering laugh; "stick a knife into me, and leave me for the flies to feed on? No, no, partner; we'll jog on together. You sha'n't serve me as you served your mate. Not if I know it."
Gray had given up asserting his innocence of Harding's actual murder. His words had not the slightest effect on Lumley. It was not that he pretended to believe in Gray's guilt Gray saw, and saw truly, that his companion actually believed that he had murdered Harding in cold blood and buried him in some secret place. Clay had only laughed at his declarations of innocence.
"What's there to make such a fuss about, partner? I never did see such a cove for making believe. But you can't take Bill Clay in, my lad. I can tell a rogue directly I set eyes on him. By fellow-feeling, you see."
The day grew hotter and hotter. The air that blew against their faces as they rode along was dry and scorching. It was like riding in a heated furnace. Suddenly Lumley gave a shout. He had seen on the horizon, through the quivering heat-mist, three cypresses pointing with black fingers to the sky. He knew as he looked that it was but an illusion, a mirage. But he knew, too, that the real cypresses, of which he saw the shadows, were in that direction, and not so very far off.