ide between the barrels, and
made no further effort beyond seeking for a restful position in which to
lay its heavy head. This was fully stretched out in the sand, where the
last thing Ned seemed to see was the twitching of the poor brute's long
ears to rid itself of the flies which attacked it as if under the idea
that they had found something dead.

The sun's intense heat soon made the boy aware of the fact that his head
was bare, and restoring his hat to its proper shape he replaced it,
finding it cool enough to enable him to think a little more clearly of
his position and ask himself whether he could do anything more. He
asked Chris the same question that he had put to himself, but there was
no reply, for it was evident that the poor fellow had sunk into a
complete state of stupor, and he was soon aware that he was fast
following his friend's example. For the soft black spots began to float
before his eyes, growing larger and larger, till they seemed to blot out
the objects that had begun to sail slowly round and round.

There was a little reaction after this, and he saw the mule's eyes
closed and the two mustangs sniffing again at the farther barrel, and
heard them sigh as if in weary disappointment at not being able to get
at the contents. But Ned felt no trouble, for everything seemed to be
restful now that he was convinced that he could do no more after doing
his best.

There was the glowing haze all around, and the terrible silence of the
dusty plain, with the nearest objects standing out with wonderful
clearness, till they began at last to sail slowly round and round him,
while the black spots formed in front of his eyes--tiny distinct specks
at first, which gradually swelled and swelled till they grew soft and
blurred; blacker and blacker too, as they blotted out the moving
objects, and finally the glowing, hot, silvery haze; and then all was
black darkness and silence profound.

At last.

Ned did not know what that meant. He did not hear any words spoken nor
how it was. It was his coming back into a state of consciousness, and
all he felt was that it somehow was at last. Time had nothing to do
with it, and the first consistent thought was that it rained hard; the
next that something was stinging his nostrils as if hundreds of tiny
points were being inserted into the soft, delicate skin.

Soon after he seemed to be listening to people talking a long way off.
They were making remarks about some o