I made a bed for him with my own clothing on the hard rock, and
bathed him and made him drink, while all the time a string of
delirious drivel poured forth from his hot, dry lips.
That lasted many hours, until finally he fell into a deep, calm
sleep. But his body was without fuel, and I was convinced he
would never awaken; yet I feared to touch him. Those were weary
hours, squatting by his side with his hand gripped in my own,
with the ever-increasing pangs of hunger and weariness turning my
own body into a roaring furnace of pain.
Suddenly I felt a movement of his hand; and then came his voice,
weak but perfectly distinct:
"Well, Paul, this is the end."
"Not yet, Harry boy; not yet."
I tried to put cheer and courage into my own voice, but with poor
success.
"I--think--so. I say, Paul--I've just seen Desiree."
"All right, Hal."
"Oh, you don't need to talk like that; I'm not delirious now. I
guess it must have been a dream. Do you remember that morning on
the mountain--in Colorado--when you came on us suddenly at
sunrise? Well, I saw her there--only you were with her instead of
me. So, of course, she must be dead.
Pages:
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130