I stood eagerly; a platter, heaped, and a vessel, full!  I think I cried out with joy.

“Come, Harry lad; eat!”

He was too weak to move; but when I tore some of the dried fish into fragments and fed it to him he devoured it ravenously.  Then he asked for water, and I held the basin to his lips.

We ate as little as it is possible for men to eat who have fasted for many days, for the stuff had a sharp, concentrated taste that recommended moderation.  And, besides, we were not certain of getting more.

I wrapped the remainder carefully in my poncho, leaving the platter empty, and lay down to rest, using the poncho for a pillow.  I had enough, assuredly, to keep me awake, but there are bounds beyond which nature cannot go.  I slept close by Harry’s side, with my arm across his body, that any movement of his might awaken me.

When I awoke Harry was still asleep, and I did not disturb him.  I myself must have slept many hours, for I felt considerably refreshed and very hungry.  And thirsty; assuredly the provender of those hairy brutes would have been most excellent stuff for the free-lunch counter of a saloon.

I unwrapped the poncho; then, crawling on my hands and knees, searched about the ground.  As I had expected, I found another full platter and basin.  I had just set the latter down after taking a hearty drink when I heard Harry’s voice.

“Paul.”

“Here, lad.”

“I was afraid you had gone.  I’ve just had the most devilish dream about Desiree.  She was doing some crazy dance on top of a mountain or something, and there was fire, and—­Paul!  Paul, was it a dream?”

“No, Hal; I saw it myself.  But come, we’ll talk later.  Here’s some dried fish for breakfast.”

“Ah!  That—­that—­now I remember!  And she fell!  I’m going—­”

But I wanted no more fever or delirium, and I interrupted him sternly: 

“Harry!  Listen to me!  Are you a baby or a man?  Talk straight or shut up, and don’t whine like a fool.  If you have any courage, use it.”

It was stiff medicine, but he needed it, and it worked.  There was a silence, then his voice came, steady enough: 

“You know me better than that, Paul.  Only—­if it were not for Desiree—­but I’ll swallow it.  I think I’ve been sick, haven’t I?”

Poor lad!  I wanted to take his hand in mine and apologize.  But that would have been bad for both of us, and I answered simply: 

“Yes, a little fever.  But you’re all right now.  And now you must eat and drink.  Not much of a variety, but it’s better than nothing.”

I carried the platter and basin over to him, and sat down by his side, and we fell to together.

But he would talk of Desiree, and I humored him.  There was little enough to say, but he pressed my hand hopefully and gratefully when I expressed my belief that her disappearance had been a trick of some sort and no matter for apprehension.