think I was a
coward, but I can't stand this. Old chap, don't let me go mad; shoot me
if you see I 'm going mad."

"Mad," said the other bravely, "nonsense, man, you're all right. You'll
feel better presently when you've had a spell."

The lines of trees resolved itself on closer inspection into
close-growing gidya scrub, and long before they reached it the crows had
again made their appearance. A little flock kept them company, waiting
on in front, rushing up behind as if perchance they might be late,
wheeling round on either side.

"There must be water there," said Helm eagerly, "look at the crows
again."

"Don't build on it, old chap," said the other. "The scrub is too thick
for us to find it."

But Helm was not to be dissuaded, and he wasted his energies in a
frantic search for water. His mate looked more soberly, because more
hopelessly, but the result was the same, and finally they lay down in the
shade and slept again, slept soundly too, in spite of the crows, which
were more confident, more impudent, than ever. Night fell, and with the
darkness grew in Helm an intense desire to be on the way again.

"We 're wasting time," he kept saying hoarsely, for his tongue was so
swollen he could hardly speak at all, "wasting time. Don't you see they
'll be expecting us in to supper at Gerring Gerring, and I shouldn't
like the crows to get there first. They might frighten her, you know,
she's only a girl and she hasn't seen so much of them as you and me.
Those knowing old crows! they 're not here now. Don't you see that's why
they want to get there first?"

"Be quiet, man. You 're dreaming."

"Dreaming, was I? Anderson, Anderson, mate, I 'm not going mad. For
God's sake, don't let me go mad."

"No, no, old man, it's all right. We 're on the right track now. Here, I
'll take the horse and you give me your arm. There, now then, if we 've
luck we may hit Gerring Gerring before morning."

They walked on in silence, but Helm kept stumbling, and but for his
companion's supporting arm would have fallen more than once. The moon
rose up, and as it grew light as day again he stopped short and looked
solemnly in his companion's face. It was worn and haggard and weary, but
not so wild, he felt instinctively, as his own.

"Anderson," he said, "I know I 'm done for. My head's all wrong. It 's
cooler now, but what'll it be to-morrow? If--if--if I do anything mad
before I die, don't tell her, I 'd like her to think well of m