comes to, you must get
him along, following the course you see me take. If I find help, I'll save
you. If not, I'll come back and die with you."

Sitting down by the side of the insensible Glover, Sweeny covered his face
with two grimy hands which trembled a little. It was not till his officer
had got some thirty feet away that he raised his head and looked after
him. Then he called, in his usual quick, sharp, chattering way,
"Liftinant, is this soldierin'?"

"Yes, my lad," replied Thurstane with a sad, weary smile, thinking
meantime of hardships past, "this is soldiering."

"Thin I'll do me dooty if I rot jest here," declared the simple hero.

Thurstane came back, grasped Sweeny's hand in silence, turned away to hide
his shaken face, and commenced his anxious journey.

There were both terrible and beautiful thoughts in his soul as he pushed
on into the desert. Would he find the trail? Would he encounter the rare
chance of traders or emigrants? Would there be food and rest for him and
rescue for his comrades? Would he meet Clara? This last idea gave him
great courage; he struggled to keep it constantly in his mind; he needed
to lean upon it.

By the time that he had marched ten miles he found that he was weaker than
he had supposed. Weeks of wretched food and three days of almost complete
starvation had taken the strength pretty much out of his stalwart frame.
His breath was short; he stumbled over the slightest obstacles;
occasionally he could not see clear. From time to time it struck him that
he had been dreaming or else that his mind was beginning to wander. Things
that he remembered and things that he hoped for seemed strangely present.
He spoke to people who were hundreds of miles away; and, for the most
part, he spoke to them pettishly or with downright anger; for in the main
he felt more like a wretched, baited animal than a human being.

It was only when he called Clara to mind that this evil spirit was
exorcised, and he ceased for a moment to resemble a hungry, jaded wolf.
Then he would be for a while all sweetness, because he was for the while
perfectly happy. In the next instant, by some hateful and irresistible
magic, happiness and sweetness would be gone, and he could not even
remember them nor remember _her_.

Meantime he struggled to command himself and pay attention to his route.
He must do this, because his starving comrades lay behind him, and he must
know how to lead men back to their rescue.