impossible in the soft sand and the dark. Bye and bye Harvey began to scoop out a place for himself. Talk was impossible, but they understood his effort and imitated him. The sand was warm and they covered themselves like children on a seashore. Healy, too, they bedded down and he took it as a child might have, making uncouth noises with his swollen lips. It seemed to Stone as if they had dug their own graves, so utterly did the effort exhaust him.
In the middle of the night something clutched at his arm and he started up out of his sandy shroud, groping for his pistol. It was Larkin, croaking an unnecessary warning. Over them loomed a mammoth shape, high stilted on misshapen, clumsy legs, a deformed body, a snaky neck, a musky odour. The thing sighed, its lips rolled back, showing the faint glitter of great teeth in the starlight. Then Larkin fired. The great brute snarled, wheeled, and galloped clumsily off, with a rolling, swift gait. Stone saw Larkin's face staring at him with eyes wide open, distorted mouth gaping. Hysteria swept over him, and the involuntary laughter was agonizing to his tortured mouth and throat. Yet he could not explain to Larkin or to Harvey who was sitting bolt upright gazing after the visitor which had vanished in the night. The shot had not awakened Healy.
Stone took hold of Larkin's hand and with it traced five capital letters in the sand. Larkin continued to stare at him, and Stone gave up the effort. It would take words to explain to Larkin, perhaps to Harvey, though Stone fancied the Desert Rat had recognized
