It was curious to see how the one or two footprints he had found aroused him to a flight of energy which petered out as quickly and left him helpless and agitated. I could not for the life of me imagine why those footprints should have interested him so and sent him loping along the gully. He found no others, but apparently the sight of those two or three produced a glimmer of memory in him. Evidently he had been here before, and was wishful to retrace his former path but lacked the will and courage to do so.
“I know where it is,” he said, wringing his hands. “I know now. Will you go with me?”
His look was so imploring and his voice so full of a kind of panic fear that I was persuaded there was something he wished to show me but dared not. His will seemed to tipple like a seesaw between resolution and irresolution, and he fell into the old habit of starting and clutching me at every sound.
“Come,” I said, “I’ll go with you.”
I cannot describe the eager terror in his eyes, the trembling of his hands as he clutched my arm, and the irresolute pauses which he made as he passed along through the gully. Finally he seemed about to clamber out of the rocky depression, hesitated, and broke down utterly, sobbing like a child.
“Look—there—,” he at last managed to gasp “You—go—and see.” And he gulped and tightened his grasp in panic fright.
I looked across a mass of piled up rock and saw, some distance away, a large object which seemed to stir as I watched it.
“That’s it,” he said.
“All right,” said I. “You stay here, sit down on that stone and I’ll go and see.”
He sat down, twirling the cord around his neck and watching me eagerly. As I clambered up the low embankment, he started at the slight noise I made.