Kelly looked at him curiously.  “The boy’s a wreck,” he said.  “Simply gone to pieces; nerves like fiddle-strings.  He drinks like hell, but it’s my belief he’d die in torment if he didn’t.”

Still Burke said nothing, and Kelly’s curiosity grew.

“You know what he’s doing; don’t you?” he said.  “He’s doing a Kaffir’s job for Kaffir’s pay.  It’s about the vilest hole this side of perdition, my son.  And I’m thinking you won’t find it specially easy to dig him out.”

Burke’s eyes came suddenly straight to the face of the Irishman.  He regarded him for a moment or two with a faintly humorous expression; then:  “That’s just where you can lend me a hand, Donovan,” he said.  “I’m going to ask you to do that part.”

“The deuce you are!” said Kelly.  “You’re not going to ask much then, my son.  Moreover, it’s well on the likely side that he’ll refuse to budge.  Better leave him alone till he’s tired of it.”

“He’s dead sick of it already,” said Burke with conviction.  “You go to him and tell him you’ve a decent berth waiting for him.  He’ll come along fast enough then.”

“I doubt it,” said Kelly.  “I doubt it very much.  He’s in just the bitter mood to prefer to wallow.  He’s right under, Burke, and he isn’t making any fight.  He’ll go on now till he’s dead.”

“He won’t!” said Burke shortly.  “Where exactly is he?  Tell me that!”

“He’s barkeeping for that brute Hoffstein, and taking out all his wages in drink.  I saw him three days ago.  I assure you he’s past help.  I believe he’d shoot himself if you took any trouble over him.  He’s in a pretty desperate mood.”

“Not he!” said Burke.  “I’m going to have him out anyway.”

Again Kelly looked at him speculatively.  “Well, what’s the notion?” he asked after a moment, frankly curious.  “You’ve never worried after him before.”

Burke’s eyes were grim.  “You may be sure of one thing, Donovan,” he said, “I’m not out for pleasure this journey.”

“I’ve noted that,” observed Kelly.

“I don’t want you to help me if you have anything better to do,” pursued Burke.  “I shall get what I’ve come for in any case.”

“Oh, don’t you worry yourself!  I’m on,” responded Kelly, with his winning, Irish smile.  “When do you want to catch your hare?  Tonight?”

“Yes; to-night,” said Burke soberly.  “I’ll come down with you to Hoffstein’s, and if you can get him out, I’ll do the rest.”

“Hurrah!” crowed Kelly softly, lifting his glass.  “Here’s luck to the venture!”

But though Burke drank with him, his face did not relax.

A little later they left the hotel together.  A strong wind was still blowing, sprinkling the dust of the desert everywhere.  They pushed their way against it, striding with heads down through the swirling darkness of the night.

Hoffstein’s bar was in a low quarter of the town and close to the mine-workings.  A place of hideous desolation at all times, the whirling sandstorm made of it almost an inferno.  They scarcely spoke as they went along, grimly enduring the sand-fiend that stung and blinded but could not bar their progress.