crept and
felt her way over it with her hands, discovering nothing until she had
almost reached de Spain's retreat at the farther side. Then her heart
stopped in an agony of fear--underneath the overhanging wall she heard
voices.

To attempt to escape was as dangerous as to lie still. Had she dared,
she would have retreated at once the way she came. Since she dared
not, she was compelled to hear what was said, and, indeed, was eager
to hear. De Spain had confederates, then, and had tricked her, after
all. Whatever his plot, she was resolved to know it, and instead of
retreating she took her revolver in hand and drew herself nearer. When
she had gained her new position the mutterings, which had been
indistinct, became audible. It was not two voices she had heard, but
one--de Spain, she judged, was talking in his sleep.

But a moment later this explanation failed to satisfy her. The
mutterings were too constant and too disconnected to be mistaken for
sleep-talking--it dawned on Nan that this must be delirium. She could
hear de Spain throwing himself from side to side, and the near and far
sounds, as if of two voices, were explained. It was possible now for
her to tell herself she was mistress of the situation. She crept
nearer.

He was babbling in the chill darkness about ammunition, urging men to
make haste, warning them of some one coming. He turned on the rock
floor ceaselessly, sometimes toward her, sometimes from her, muttering
of horses, water, passengers, wheels, wrecks. He made broken appeals
to be chopped out, directed men where to use their axes. Nan listened
to his ravings, overcome by the revelation of his condition. Once her
uncle had lain sick of a fever and had been delirious; but that, her
sole experience, was nothing to this. Once de Spain threw out a
groping hand and, before she could escape, caught her skirt. Nan tried
to pull away. His grip did not loosen. She took his hand in hers and,
while he muttered meaningless words, forced his fingers open and drew
away. His hand was dry and burning hot.

She told herself he must die if he remained longer unaided, and there
were unpleasant possibilities, if he died where he lay. Such a death,
so close to her own home might, if it were ever known, throw suspicion
on her uncle and arouse the deeper resentment of the wounded man's
friends. If the least of pity played a part in suggesting that her
safest course was to help de Spain, Nan kept its promptings as m