The next thing to do was awaken Rip and Westy hated doing it in his condition. He talked to him and the sick boy opened his eyes and stared.
“We have to get down, Rip, do you understand?”
Rip nodded and sat up and Westy slid to the ground and helped him down.
He obeyed just like a child, but said nothing and immediately laid down on the earth again and closed his eyes. He was asleep within a very few minutes.
Westy turned and watched the sun peeping through the curtain of dawn, so warm and friendly. It made him feel warm and partially dry for the first time in three days, but his spirits sank as he saw that the tracks were leading further into the forest and not where they had hoped. And his hunger and thirst were distracting him.
He noted that Rip’s breathing was easier and his temperature seemed to have dropped. But fever acted that way, Westy thought, and got bad at night. Still, if it wasn’t so bad during the day he could go on a little with help. He’d see how he felt, but meanwhile he must get something to eat first.
There wasn’t a berry bush in sight and as he looked at the stagnant pool a little distance from him he shook his head and reached up in one of the limbs of the tree.
Pulling the leaves off one after the other, he sucked the moisture out of them greedily, but with delight. It took the worst of the parched feeling away and then he gave some to Rip, who chewed leaf and all.
Looking at his eyes, Westy saw that Rip was so bad as to be incognizant of his surroundings and stared blankly ahead.
It was deplorable, but they would have to go on whether the boy was in his right mind or not, but Westy was sure of one thing and that was that he wouldn’t leave Rip alone for any length of time. Better not to leave him at all—still he had to have something to eat....