The sun was at their back now and still no sign of a trail—nothing. Nothing but trees! Westy began to hate the sight of them.
They were both pretty near exhaustion again and, while Rip rested on a pile of dead leaves, Westy went ahead a little to beat down the brush that grew thicker in that region than anywhere they had struck so far.
In appearance both of the boys had changed pitifully. The sunken eyes and wan look about the face, so white and drawn, and the parched lips. Even about the body the flesh had fallen away terribly. But Westy looked the worst and he doubted whether his own mother would have recognized him then.
It seemed to him that there wasn’t a whole piece of flesh on his arms and hands. His face and legs and feet were also swollen from the poisonous weeds he had trampled down. His feet weren’t so painful as on the first day or two; they had now become calloused, but that didn’t alleviate the pain of the infected cuts and scratches.
Rip, though not so horribly scratched and cut, looked pitiful enough with his fever-ridden eyes and face. His continual calls for water gave Westy little peace of mind. He had given him the rain-soaked leaves that he found, but now they were scarce as the sun had dried all the available ones. And he was determined not to give the sick boy another drop of that death-infested water.
His own thirst and hunger was like some terrible disease gnawing first at his body and then at his brain. He couldn’t even think clear thoughts. The dread of losing his mind—but then he knew he must keep up for Rip’s sake and he would. So he was satisfied to devour some dry leaves and swallowed them whole.
Ah, he saw something! A tree just ahead of him he noticed shaded nicely by the rest was still dripping from the rains. It made him think of Rip’s thirst and it looked easy to climb.
He ran back to where Rip was sleeping peacefully and carefully removed the tattered blouse he had put on him. Then running back to the tree again he got up on the first few limbs when he noticed some peculiar-looking berries hanging from the upper branches. So he filled the blouse with as many wet leaves as it would hold and decided to go higher and sample some of the fruit.
Reaching the top limb, he leaned over to grasp some, but his hand was retarded in the movement by the sight that met and dazzled his hollowed eyes.
Within a stone’s throw of him was the trail!