Lumley laughed again.
"So you may, partner, so you may. 'Twas the smell of the water that drove him frantic, I believe. He made straight for it. And there's the swag upon him, and the pistols, and the grub. You'll be well set up if you come across the horse."
A sudden terror had come upon Gray as he listened to this speech of Lumley's, and looked down upon his sneering, evil face.
"You are playing with me!" he burst out, and the cold sweat stood out upon his brow as he said it. "You know nothing of the water!"
CHAPTER IX.
FACING DEATH
Lumley paused a moment before answering that last speech of Gray's. Then his tone was mild and smooth.
"What's the good of talking like that, mate? But just look there." He pointed to his foot again as he spoke. "Does it look as if 'twould carry me half a dozen miles? Or a mile? Or a couple of yards? And I've hurt my side as well. Broke a rib or two, maybe. I tried crawlin' a while ago, but I couldn't even manage that. I'm no better than a log—only fit for the crows, partner. What's the good of water to me when I can't get at it?"
His tone was so mild and reasonable that Gray felt no difficulty in answering him.