“‘No,’ he said, ‘it isn’t that.’
“I did not question him; I had long since followed his lead, and we never questioned one another.
“Still, I wondered to myself, as one cannot help wondering when anything unusual, however slight, occurs to break a regularity such as ours. A stone thrown in a rough sea falls unperceived, but thrown into a pond of mirror-like surface it creates a real disturbance. So all the morning I observed MacPherson as closely as I dared; I saw him go to get his things, and I detected a slight weariness in his walk; still he said nothing. It was glaringly hot at the ruins. I thought of suggesting that we should go home earlier than usual, and, turning round to look for MacPherson, I saw him at a little distance, sitting on a boulder, with his head in his hands. This was so unusual that I immediately crossed over to him.
“‘I say, aren’t you feeling well?’
“He raised to me a livid face.
“‘I shall be all right presently.... A touch of the sun.’
“‘You must come indoors at once,’ I said firmly. ‘You must be mad to sit here in this heat. Can you walk?’
“He rose with infinite weariness, but without a word of complaint, and attempted to lift his pick.
“‘I’ll take that,’ I said, taking it from him, and he gave it up without a word. ‘Is there anything else to bring?’
“He shook his head, and began to stumble off in the direction of the house. Long before we had reached home, I knew what was the matter with my companion. The sun was not responsible. He was in the grip of cholera.