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Verne, Jules, 1828-1905

"Five Weeks in a Balloon"

Each of
them knew this, and each was thinking of it, and felt
himself drawn toward them; but neither of the three dared
to take a step.
Those three men, friends and companions as they were,
fixed their haggard eyes upon each other with an instinct
of ferocious longing, which was most plainly revealed in
the hardy Scot, whose vigorous constitution yielded the
soonest to these unnatural privations.
Throughout the day he was delirious, pacing up and
down, uttering hoarse cries, gnawing his clinched fists,
and ready to open his veins and drink his own hot blood.
"Ah!" he cried, "land of thirst! Well might you be
called the land of despair!"
At length he sank down in utter prostration, and his
friends heard no other sound from him than the hissing of
his breath between his parched and swollen lips.
Toward evening, Joe had his turn of delirium. The
vast expanse of sand appeared to him an immense pond,
full of clear and limpid water; and, more than once, he
dashed himself upon the scorching waste to drink long
draughts, and rose again with his mouth clogged with hot
dust.
"Curses on it!" he yelled, in his madness, "it's nothing
but salt water!"
Then, while Ferguson and Kennedy lay there motionless,
the resistless longing came over him to drain the last
few drops of water that had been kept in reserve.


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