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Peril Finders

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<h3>Chapter Thirty.</h3> <h4>Waking Up.</h4> “Oh, Chris!” groaned Ned, as he dismounted feebly, to fall on one knee by his companion’s side. Chris’s eyes followed every movement, and he seemed to hear what was said, for he smiled faintly. “That’s you, isn’t it, Ned?” he said slowly. “Can’t see. Black spots floating about in front, and everything going round and round.” Ned’s answer was another groan, for the trouble was on the increase. The poor mule had done its best and kept on till it could do no more. Just then it made an effort to go on again, looking wistfully at Ned, in whose acts it evidently read an order for it to advance. Drawing its legs together into a more natural attitude, it took a step or two, stumbled, and then dropped upon its knees, made another effort to rise, but failed, and doubled its hind-legs under it, to crouch so that the two barrels rested on the sand; and then the poor beast uttered a long hoarse sigh as if of relief, while for a time it made no further effort to stir. Ned glanced at the ponies, the thought occurring to him that he ought to secure their reins; but they did not display the slightest desire to leave their companion, only stretching out their necks towards the mule and breathing hard before pressing forward slightly, to begin snuffing at one of the barrels. This act set Ned’s wits working, and he recalled what Chris was about to do. He was so faint and giddy that it required a painful effort even to stir, but he caught the kerchief from his companion’s hand and began to unfasten the well-secured stopper of the nearest barrel, which stood steady enough now in the sand. This done, he thrust in about half of the kerchief, let it soak full of water, raised it carefully so that every superabundant drop should fall back into the barrel, and then, pressing open Chris’s lips, squeezed a few drops between them, more and more as they were swallowed with avidity, and passed his wet hands over the prostrate lad’s temples. This he did again and again, suffering an acute longing to treat himself in the same way, but resisting the temptation, till Chris closed his eyes with a weary sigh, his lips tightening together, and he lay motionless. Ned soaked the handkerchief again, and pressed its contents in his own mouth, swallowing the moisture with avidity, noting the while that the two ponies were licking the farther barrel and breathing hard, as if they could feel the cool fresh odour of the water playing in their nostrils, while at the same time the mule, pinned down by the weight of the two barrels, strained its neck round and whinnied, as it looked piteously in his face. The look had its effect, for the end of the kerchief was once more thrust into the barrel, allowed to soak, and then drawn out. “I don’t know how we’re going to manage,” thought the boy, as he held the dripping corner of the kerchief towards the mule’s muzzle; but the poor brute did, and acted without hesitation, making a snap as sharply delivered as that of a dog, and catching the end between its strong teeth. Then it gave its head a toss, and treating the water-bearing piece of fabric as if it were a wisp of wet grass, drew it, dripping and cool, right into its mouth, the sharp tug or two given overcoming Ned’s resistance. Before the boy could recover from his surprise there was a quick juicy sound of champing in accord with the movement of the mule’s jaws, a gulp, and the kerchief had gone. “You stupid brute!” cried Ned indignantly. “What am I to do now?” Common-sense suggested what should be his next proceeding, and that was to take off his own handkerchief and his felt hat, which he turned inside out. Then laying it beyond the mule’s reach, he soaked the fresh kerchief till it would hold no more, squeezed it so that the contents fell into the reversed crown of his hat, and repeated the act till about half of half-a-pint of dirty water lay ready. This he held out to the mule, which plunged in its lips and rapidly sucked out every drop. Repeating the process, Ned managed to give each of the ponies enough to wash out its mouth. “If I only had a straw or a reed!” thought the boy; but there was hardly a twig of the sage-brush to be seen, and he shook his head in despair. But there was something else to do. The mule was fidgeting, and any restive action on the beast’s part might mean waste of water; so he hurriedly closed the tompion, leaving its brass chain so that there was no risk of loss; and this was hardly done before, refreshed by its portion, the mule made a desperate effort to rise, but only got its fore-legs well planted, and then sank back. It made two more trials, but with less and less success, and then, apparently fully aware of the fact that the weight carried was too much for it, resignation ensued, and the poor beast lay partly over on its side 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 one else, but he had no idea what, till it was as if something cracked in each ear and he started with his eyes wide open, to see that the sky above was all of a deep red glow, and on looking round him there were faces and mules, and packs lying just as if they had been taken off the mules’ backs. “He’s coming round now,” said a familiar voice, and then he started again, to find that everything was clear, and that he was looking in the doctor’s face. “Is he?” said Ned sharply, in a voice that he did not know for his own. “Has he been very bad?” “Worse than any of us, Ned, my boy,” said another familiar voice. “Is that you, father?” cried Ned. “What’s left of me, my boy. I began to think we should never shake hands again. You two fellows saved our lives.” Ned was silent, and lay with his hand pressed to his forehead, waiting till he could quite grasp that which seemed to be dancing strangely in his brain. “No, father,” he said at length; “I recollect now. We did try, but we couldn’t. We broke down.” “Yes,” said the doctor; “but just where we could find you when we were struggling on and nearly at the last gasp.” “I don’t understand you, Mr Lee.—Who’s that—Griggs?” “Yes, it’s me,” said the American, “but I’m feeling pretty thin, my lad, I can tell you. May I shake hands?” “Why, of course!” cried Ned. “Come away from him now,” said the doctor in a whisper. “I’m rather troubled about his head.” “Oh, it don’t ache now,” said Ned sharply, “and things are not going round now. But you said Chris was better?” “Yes. He’s sleeping under the tent. I kept you here because there is more air.” “Where are we?” asked Ned anxiously. “Just in the same spot as when we found you, with the mule broken-down under the heavy load of water.” “Of course. I remember it all now,” cried Ned excitedly. “I broke down first, and after I got better it was poor old Chris. But he’s all right now?” “He will be soon,” said the doctor. “Can you tell us how far it is to the water, Ned?” said Wilton, making himself heard for the first time. “No,” said Ned thoughtfully, “but I’m afraid it’s a long way. Why?” “Because we’ve finished one of the barrels and half of the other, my boy,” said Bourne. “We must be getting on again, then, doctor?” “Yes; as soon as they can sit their horses.” “Can’t be very far, sir,” said Griggs, “because of the time they were away. Say, Ned, my lad, can you tell us when you started back with the water?” “Yes,” said the boy; “directly after sunrise.” “And when did the mule cave in?” “I don’t quite know, because my head felt so thick; but it was when the sun was hottest. I think I could show you the way, though.” “Oh, we can find the way, squire; you have written that down clearly enough in the sand. Tell us one thing more, though,” said Griggs. “What did you find—a rock spring or a pool?” “A great lake that stretched out as far as we could see.” There was a faint cheer at this, and the boy smiled. “But there are big ’gators in it.” “I don’t care if there are crocodiles in it half-a-mile long,” cried Griggs. “We’re going to have our share. Then it’s beyond the salt desert?” “Oh yes. Beautiful green country, with mountains and trees.” “Within half-a-day’s journey,” said the doctor. “Then I think we may give the poor beasts what water there is left.” “Yes, sir,” said Griggs. “I’ll give ’em my share; but I never grudged parting with it so much before in my life. Shall I begin?” “Yes, poor things; but they will not have much apiece even now.” Griggs laughed. “No, sir,” he said. “Skeeter would get outside the whole half-barrel if you gave him a chance, and then roll round the whites of his eyes and ask for more.” By the time the water had been given to the beasts, all but a small portion reserved for the two boys, it was dark, with the stars just dimly-seen through the haze. All was ready, and the mules and horses stepped out briskly, the last drink having worked wonders; but probably the wonderful instinct of the mules taught them that they were nearing the end of their horribly toilsome journey. Perhaps it is not too much to say that by some subtle power of communication they had learned the fact from those which had made the journey before. Certainly our dumb friends do communicate good and bad information to one another. Neither Chris nor Ned seemed much the worse since they had had a light meal, but sat their ponies well enough once more, while there was no need for their guidance, for the mule which had borne the water-barrels, unladen now, having been placed with the bell-bearer in front, started off freely enough, and needed no guidance to keep it to the track. Naturally enough the two boys rode that night knee to knee with the doctor and Bourne, each giving and receiving a faithful account of their proceedings, and the lads too learning exactly what had taken place on the awakening at the camp, when, utterly worn out and suffering, not one of the four felt in a fit condition to stir, Griggs, naturally the strongest of the party and best able to cope with the arduous work, being by far the worst. But he was the first to recover upon the discovery being made that the boys were gone. In fact, he took note of everything during the first few minutes, and was able to point out that they had taken with them a mule bearing the two water-barrels, and also found and pointed out the trail the two ponies and the mule had made in the parching sand. No one felt fit to stir, and the beasts of burden seemed to be in worse plight than their masters. But the doctor insisted upon a start being made at once, following upon the trail, and all expected to come before long upon the pair lying dead from thirst and exhaustion at the end of the track. “We never expected to see you alive again, Chris,” said the doctor; “and when we came upon you at last, just as we all felt that we could go no farther, we stopped short, no one daring to approach, for we found you lying just as we had pictured you. “The expedition was to all of us quite at an end, and we approached you at last to lie down by your sides and die, when Griggs saw something that neither I nor Ned’s father had noted.” “What was that, father?” asked Chris. “That the mule’s head was pointing in our direction, and that the trail on ahead was blurred, showing that you had been somewhere and were on the way back. The next minute he was shouting frantically for us to come on, and we did, having literally crawled up, to find you both alive and the two casks full of that which saved our lives.” That night camp was made in the midst of plenty, and the sun rose in the morning over the thick desert-heated air to shine upon the dazzling waters of the lake and the rich forest-land spreading upward towards a range of mountains of a vivid blue. It seemed to be the land of plenty that they had reached, where abundance of game awaited the rifle, fish in shoals were in the lake, and, most attractive of all, away on the horizon, amidst the range of mountains running to right and left, were peaks among any of which the golden city of which they were in search might be waiting to be compared with the unfortunate old prospector’s map. <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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