To-day
is Sunday; we might say Monday, as it is one o'clock
in the morning, and if we don't get off by Tuesday, I'll
run the risk. I've made up my mind to that!"
The doctor made no answer, and in a few minutes they
got back to the car, where he took his place beside Kennedy,
who lay there plunged in silence so complete that
it could not be considered sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVENTH.
Terrific Heat.--Hallucinations.--The Last Drops of Water.--Nights
of Despair.--An Attempt at Suicide.--The Simoom.--The Oasis.--The
Lion and Lioness.
The doctor's first care, on the morrow, was to consult
the barometer. He found that the mercury had scarcely
undergone any perceptible depression.
"Nothing!" he murmured, "nothing!"
He got out of the car and scrutinized the weather;
there was only the same heat, the same cloudless sky, the
same merciless drought.
"Must we, then, give up to despair?" he exclaimed,
in agony.
Joe did not open his lips. He was buried in his own
thoughts, and planning the expedition he had proposed.
Kennedy got up, feeling very ill, and a prey to nervous
agitation. He was suffering horribly with thirst, and his
swollen tongue and lips could hardly articulate a syllable.
There still remained a few drops of water.
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