and the dazzle, but the column halted not
nor stayed. The energy of Berselius drove it forward as the energy of
steam drives an engine. His voice, his very presence, put life into
flagging legs and sight into dazzled eyes. He spared neither himself nor
others; the game was ahead, the spoor was hot, and the panther in his soul
drove him forward.

Toward noon they halted for two hours where some bushes spread their
shade. The porters lay down on their bellies, with arms outspread, having
taken a draught of water and a bite of food; they lay in absolute and
profound slumber. Adams, nearly as exhausted, lay on his back. Even Felix
showed signs of the journey, but Berselius sat right back into the bushes,
with his knees drawn up and, with eyes fixed on the eastern distance,
brooded.

He was always like this on a great hunt, when the game was near. Silent
and brooding, and morose to the point of savagery.

One might almost have fancied that in far distant days this man had been a
tiger, and that the tiger still lived slumbering in his soul, triumphant
over death, driving him forth at intervals from civilization to wander in
the wild places of the earth and slay.

Two hours past noon they resumed their journey: on, on, on, treading the
elephant track which still went due east straight as an arrow to the blue
horizon. The frightful tiredness they had felt before the noonday halt had
passed, giving place to a dull, dreamy feeling, such as comes after taking
opium. The column marched mechanically and without thought, knowing only
two things, the feel of the hard ground and grass beneath their feet, and
the smiting of the sun on their backs.

Thus the galley slaves of old laboured at their oars and the builders of
the pyramids beneath their loads, all moving like one man. But here was no
tune of flutes to set the pace, or monotonous song to help the lifting;
only the voice of Berselius like a whip-lash, and the gun-butt of Felix
drumming on the ribs of laggards.

A light, hot wind was blowing in their faces. Adams, still at the head of
the column, had suffered severely during the morning march, and the
re-start after the noon rest was painful to him as a beating; but the
reserve forces of a powerful constitution that had never been tampered
with were now coming into play, and, after a time, he felt little
discomfort. His body, like a wound-up mechanism, did all the work; his
mind became divorced from it; he experienced a cur