endure, and his thirst was now tormenting him. Resolutely he strove to hold himself where he was, though the effort cost him much. He lost all conception of time. The sun sank lower and lower in the western sky, but he was hardly aware that the day was passing. He might have been lying under the brush heap for hours, so far as his own comprehension was concerned.
He roused himself slightly when he heard the sound of voices near him, and peering forth he beheld the three men who had been pursuing him. They were approaching his place of concealment, but somehow even the fear of discovery had become a matter of supreme indifference to Robert. He wondered what they would say when they found him. And would they be angry over the death of the dog? The question amused him, but even while it occurred, the men passed on without stopping, and Robert was dimly aware that his hiding-place had not been discovered after all. The men were gone and he was safe for the present.
As the moments dragged on, his thirst became overpowering. Even life, he persuaded himself, was no longer to be desired if it must be had at the price of such suffering. His lips were parched, his throat burning. At last when
