"Yes, we are near the end," said the colonel, "very near, Chutney. Our sufferings will soon be over. You deserve a better fate. I wish——"
"No, no, don't talk that way," cried Guy. "You will live to see the sunlight again—I am sure of it."
The colonel turned over on his side without making a reply.
"If we don't reach the mouth of the cavern in twenty-four hours, I for one will never see the light of day," said Melton huskily. "I'd hate to die in this place. It wouldn't be so hard out under the open sky."
"Water! water!" moaned Sir Arthur feebly, and crawling to the edge of the raft Guy filled his helmet and put it to the sick man's lips. He drank deeply and sank back on the rugs.
Guy crept cautiously forward to the front of the raft again—for every motion was a torture—and resumed his watch ahead, straining his eyes to catch the first glimpse of light that he felt sure must come before long.
Faster and faster ran the current now and the shores flitted past like dim specters. The channel became more turbulent and rocky, and the raft tossed and trembled as it swept over brawling rapids and grated over unseen obstructions.
When Guy turned toward his companions again they seemed to be all sleeping, and he envied them their merciful oblivion.
Bildad was muttering excitedly in his own tongue, and as Guy watched him he tossed his arms and sat bolt upright. The ugly face was frightfully distorted and the fever-stricken eyes shone with a baleful light. With an apprehension that he took no pains to disguise Guy watched him sharply. There was no telling what this savage might do in the delirium of illness—a delirium aggravated tenfold by the tortures of hunger.
Guy noted with secret uneasiness that no weapon was lying anywhere near. Melton alone had a revolver, and he was half inclined to waken him and ask him for it.