CHAPTER XXXVI.
BILDAD TURNS CANNIBAL.
All through that day—for such we shall call it—they floated on without a single glimpse of the shores, though a good current still existed.
Their sufferings had now reached a point that was almost unendurable. The emptiness at the stomach and the pangs of hunger had given way to the fierce pains and the appalling weakness that come to those perishing of starvation.
For two days, it must be remembered, they had eaten nothing, and for a week previous three dry crackers apiece had been their daily allowance.
Chutney, with marvelous endurance, retained his strength and affected a hopefulness he was far from feeling, though, if the truth were known, a share of his food for a week past had been secretly given to Sir Arthur, whose illness had roused his compassion.
The colonel was almost too weak to stand—for his previous captivity had undermined his constitution, while Melton and the Greek made no efforts to conceal their sufferings.
Bildad, instead of becoming violent, woke up very weak, and lay helpless on his rug.
It was pitiful to see how they all turned their pockets inside out and drove their fingers into the crannies of the logs, hoping to discover a stray crumb. It was useless to fish, for they had nothing to put on the hook.
After nightfall, as near as Guy could guess, the river became very narrow and the current increased perceptibly in speed. The steep and rocky shores seemed scarcely ten yards apart, and overhead hung masses of stalactite almost close enough to strike with the paddle.
"We are near the end," said Guy, making an effort to speak calmly in spite of his sufferings. "Hold out a little longer. I feel sure that we shall be saved."