But that's all."
What was to be done? The smoke might be that of a forest fire. And
it might mean Indians. But even an enemy is welcome when starvation
and death confronts one. Almost at the end of his own resources,
the determined Ned forced himself into a last effort. He used no
words of persuasion, for Alan allowed Ned to take his hand, and
thus, silently and slowly, the two moved forward again. Perhaps
another half mile was made between rocks and down gullies and then
Alan exclaimed pitifully:
"It's no use, Ned, I can't, I can't. My feet." Burying his
fevered face in his hands, the boy wept, partly in pain and partly
because he knew that he was holding back his chum.
At such periods Ned Napier was at his best. With kind words he
sought to encourage his friend. He used the little water left to
bathe Alan's face, and the last of his shirt in binding anew his
friend's bleeding feet. He tried to joke and speculated on the
possibilities of the smoke beyond them, but it was without avail.
Poor Alan could not rise again. The fever of exhaustion was on him
and with a last appeal to Ned to leave him the boy threw himself on
the ground and fainted away.
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