Some of the other members of the unfortunate party were not, however, quite so ready for sleep. Miles and his friend Armstrong sat long talking over their fate—which they mutually agreed was a very sad one; but at last, overcome by exhaustion, if not anxiety, they sank into much-needed repose, and the only sound that broke the stillness of the night was the tread of the Arab sentinel as he paced slowly to and fro.
The country, as they advanced, became more and more rugged, until they found themselves at last in the midst of a hill region, in the valleys of which there grew a considerable amount of herbage and underwood. The journey here became very severe to the captives, for, although they did not suffer from thirst so much as on the plains, the difficulty of ascending steep and rugged paths with their hands bound was very great. It is true the position of the hands was changed, for after the second day they had been bound in front of them, but this did not render their toil easy, though it was thereby made a little less laborious.
By this time the captives had learned from experience that if they wished to avoid the spear-points they must walk in advance of their captors at a very smart pace. Fortunately, being all strong and healthy men, they were well able to do so.
Rattling Bill, perhaps, suffered most, although, after Molloy, he was physically one of the strongest of the party.
Observing that he lagged behind a little on one occasion while they were traversing a somewhat level valley, Stevenson offered him his arm.
“Don’t be ashamed to take it, old boy,” said the marine kindly, as his comrade hesitated. “You know, a fellow sometimes feels out o’ sorts, and not up to much, however stout he may be when well, so just you lay hold, for somehow I happen to feel as strong as an elephant to-day.”
“But I ain’t ill,” returned Simkin, still declining, “and I don’t see why I shouldn’t be as able as you are to carry my own weight.”
“Of course you are better able to do it than I am, in a general way,” returned his friend, “but I said that sometimes, you know, a fellow gives in, he don’t well know why or how, an’ then, of course, his comrades that are still strong are bound to help him. Here, hook on and pocket your pride. You’ll have to do the same thing for me to-morrow, may-hap, when I give in. And if it does come to that I’ll lean heavy, I promise you.”
“You’re a good fellow, Stevenson, even though you are a Blue Light,” said Simkin, taking the proffered arm.
“Perhaps it’s because I am a Blue Light,” returned the marine, with a laugh. “At all events, it is certain that whatever good there may be about me at all is the result of that Light which is as free to you as to me.”