he, they
paused by the hut where Mr Dallas lay. Syd passed his hand over his
eyes to clear away the mist which hung before him and obscured his
sight, and then, fairly sane for the moment, he looked about him to see
that every man was prostrate, and that his faithful henchman, Barney
Strake, was leaning against a rock, helpless now.

He saw it all; it meant the end. Had there been a cool, moist night
even to look forward to, they might have lived till another day, but
there were many hours of pitiless sunshine yet in the hottest time when
the glare was right along the gap.

"It is the end," he said, half-aloud. "Roy, lad, I should like to shake
hands first with Terry."

He took a step or two toward where the midshipman lay, but had to snatch
at the rock to save himself, and he gave up with a groan.

"I do it in my heart," he said. "Come and bid Mr Dallas good-bye."

"Are--are we dying, Belt?" whispered Roylance, and his voice sounded
very strange.

"Yes; it can't be long. But I hope we shall go to sleep first and wake
no more."

He staggered in at the open doorway, for the canvas had been drawn
aside, and stood gazing down at the lieutenant, who feebly raised his
hand.

Roylance remained there, leaning against the rough entrance, and on a
case sat Pan, with his head resting against the wall and his eyes
half-closed.

That grip of the hand was all that passed, save a long, earnest look of
the eyes, and an hour must have passed over them in the almost
insupportable heat. There was not a breath of air, and the poor fellows
felt as if they were being literally scorched up, and that before long
it would be impossible to breathe.

They had silently said good-bye, and Syd sat now on the floor with his
hand in Mr Dallas's, thinking of his father, and of how he would come
some time and find him lying there dead, and know by the work about that
he had done his duty.

"And poor Uncle Tom," he said to himself. "How sorry he will be! I
liked Uncle Tom."

Then there was a wave of delirium passed over, in which as in a dream he
saw sparkling waters and bright rivers dancing in the sunshine, and all
was happiness and joy, till he started into wakefulness once more at a
low groan from Roylance, who lay close beside him.

The hideous truth was there: they were all dying of thirst, and Syd's
last thought seemed to be that he had forgotten to ask help from above
till it was too late, and he could not form the wor