I felt also, when I tried, but little able to walk even by myself, much less to help him onward. Still the effort must be made. I got myself on my feet, and raised him also. We staggered onward in the direction, I supposed, of the oasis. With a melancholy foreboding, however, I felt that at the pace we were going we should never be able to reach it. Still I resolved not to give in. Onward we went like two drunken men. Every instant I thought we should fall to rise no more. I was certain that if I quitted my father, it would only be to die apart from him, when death would be doubly bitter. I could no longer see the star which had before guided us. Either clouds had obscured it, or a mist had arisen, or my eyes were growing dim. My father was pressing more heavily on my arm. I tried to support him, but my strength was insufficient. In the attempt we both fell together. All hope abandoned me.
“O God, protect my wife and children!” murmured my father.
I also tried to pray, but with difficulty I could collect my thoughts for a few moments together. I lifted myself on my knees by my father’s side, and raised his head from the sand. Daylight was now coming on, and with anguish I saw by the expression of his features that if aid was not speedily afforded, it would be too late to preserve his life.
Chapter Seven.
Hope revives—Lima and its scenes and characters.
As a shipwrecked seaman, on the wild rock in the middle of the ocean, anxiously scans the horizon to search for a sail in sight, so did I cast my eager gaze over the barren sandy waste, to discover if providentially any succour was at hand. The shades of night melting away before the rays of the sun, the wished-for oasis appeared in the distance; and by the marks on the sand, I could not doubt that we had been wandering away instead of approaching it. How eagerly I looked towards the spot where I believed the means of reviving our fast-failing strength could be found! As I gazed at it, it seemed to approach nearer, and tantalised me the more that I knew that I could not reach it.
The sun rose slowly and majestically in the sky, and his burning rays began again to strike down upon our heads. Still I kept my senses; but I felt that death must soon terminate my dear father’s sufferings, and mine as well. Once more I cast my glance round the horizon. I gazed steadily—I saw a dark object moving in the distance. O how earnestly I watched it! I could not be mistaken—it was approaching us. As it came on, I discerned the figure of a man on horseback. He was leading another animal with a load on his back. Now he seemed to be verging off to the right hand. He might pass and not observe us. I shouted; but it was folly to fancy that my feeble voice could reach him. Again he turned. I saw him dismount and stoop down on the sand. He stopped, however, but a minute, perhaps not so much, though to me it seemed an age, and he again mounted and came on. He was directing his course, I judged, for the oasis. As he came still nearer, I recognised Ithulpo, and he was leading our baggage mule. I could not doubt, also, but that he was searching for us. Again I tried to shout, but my voice failed me. I lifted up my hand and waved it above my head; but I could no longer stand upright, or I should have attracted his attention. He rode on. He had already passed, when he turned his head and caught sight of the handkerchief I was waving in my hand. He spurred on towards us. To spring from his horse, and to take one of the saddle-bags from the back of the mule, was the work of a moment. From the saddlebag he produced a skin of water. Without speaking, he poured out a cup, from which he allowed a few drops to fall into my father’s mouth. When once I felt it to my lips, I could not withdraw it till I had drained it to the bottom. The pure draught so much revived me that I could sit up and help Ithulpo to tend my father. This he did with the greatest care; but human care, alas! seemed to be of little avail. He loosened his dress to admit of perfectly free circulation; he then washed his mouth, and after bathing his temples, he allowed a few more drops to trickle down his throat. This judicious treatment had, after a time, the most beneficial effect. My father languidly opened his eyes, and attempted to sit up; and I saw that his first act of consciousness was to turn them towards me with an inquiring glance. Finding that I was alive, his countenance brightened; and after slowly drinking some more water, in the course of three or four minutes he revived sufficiently to propose proceeding on our way.
“Wait a little longer, Señor,” said Ithulpo. “Water has restored you to life, but you require food to give you strength; see, I have brought some.”