I feel again the clear, cold
chill of dawn, and hear the distant barking of a dog. I find myself
asking again, "What shall we do now?" and trying to scheme with brain
tired beyond measure.
At first my uncle occupied my attention. He was shivering a good
deal, and it was all I could do to resist my desire to get him into a
comfortable bed at once. But I wanted to appear plausibly in this part
of the world. I felt it would not do to turn up anywhere at dawn and
rest, it would be altogether too conspicuous; we must rest until the day
was well advanced, and then appear as road-stained pedestrians seeking
a meal. I gave him most of what was left of the biscuits, emptied our
flasks, and advised him to sleep, but at first it was too cold, albeit I
wrapped the big fur rug around him.
I was struck now by the flushed weariness of his face, and the look of
age the grey stubble on his unshaved chin gave him. He sat crumpled up,
shivering and coughing, munching reluctantly, but drinking eagerly, and
whimpering a little, a dreadfully pitiful figure to me.
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