"You'd not sit there long if you knew what I know, you fool," he burst out. "Didn't I tell you I found my bearings again? Didn't you hear me say it?"
His excitement communicated itself to Gray. He turned round with a wild questioning glance.
"Do you mean—For God's sake tell me the truth! Do you know where we are? Is that it?"
He had not sprung up, but life and energy had come back to him. His hands clenched, his shoulders straightened themselves. He had it in him, he felt, to make a good fight for life yet.
Lumley grew cool as he saw the hope leap into Gray's face. He let go his sleeve and sank back against the hillock.
"Suppose I do know," he said in the old mocking tone; "what then, partner?"
Gray stared at him without speaking, and Lumley repeated the question:
"What then, partner?"
Gray was silent. He had fixed his eyes on Lumley's face, as if his glance could drag out the truth from him. Lumley gave him back glance for glance. Then he suddenly bent down and drew a rough circle on the sand. Gray drew close, bending towards the circle with intent eyes.
"That's where we are, partner, d'ye see?" said Lumley, making a hole with his finger in the middle of the circle; "and here's the moon," making another mark. "You're follerin' me so far, eh?"