the beast on seeing it, though he might have forgotten the fact that the camels unsuccessfully introduced into Arizona as beasts of burden were, some of them, roaming wild about the desert and occasionally frightening the wits out of the ignorant who encountered them. At all events, Harvey lay down again and Larkin. with a grunt that might have been exhaustion, incredulity, or mere bewilderment, did the same. But it was bitterly cold, and their broken slumber could not be resumed. One kindly thing the night brought, in that it chilled what water was left and reduced the swelling of tongue and throat and lips sufficiently for cautious swallowing and gargling that gave some relief and let them talk sparingly in hoarse whispers. Moreover, despite their weakness, it put fresh heart into them. Larkin, after Stone's explanation of the camel and Harvey's brief endorsement, pretended to refuse acceptance of its being.
"There hain't no sich hanimal," he feebly jested.
Dawn fluttered the sky, brightened swiftly, and displayed them to each other. Ghastly objects, crawling out of their sandy coverlets to greet the sun, as Larkin styled them, "resurrected stiffs." They got wearily to their feet and looked down at Healy. Some time in the night he had got rid of his bandages and his swollen arm was a hideous thing. His eyes were open but saw nothing but the spectres of his brain. They bent over him and Stone took up his canteen. It was empty. The stopper was missing. If he had not drunk it all it had been wasted. His
