The silence of the desert overwhelmed me; it was so terrible that I almost wished the hyena back for company.  Holding the rifle above my head, I fired the third cartridge.  Then I took the hand of Higgs in my own, for, after all, it was a link—­the last link with humanity and the world—­and lay down in the company of death that seemed to fall upon me in black and smothering veils.

I woke up and became aware that some one was pouring water down my throat.  Heaven!  I thought to myself, for at that time heaven and water were synonymous in my mind.  I drank a good deal of it, not all I wanted by any means, but as much as the pourer would allow, then raised myself upon my hands and looked.  The starlight was extraordinarily clear in that pure desert atmosphere, and by it I saw the face of Sergeant Quick bending over me.  Also, I saw Orme sitting up, staring about him stupidly, while a great yellow dog, with a head like a mastiff, licked his hand.  I knew the dog at once; it was that which Orme had bought from some wandering natives, and named Pharaoh because he ruled over all other dogs.  Moreover, I knew the two camels that stood near by.  So I was still on earth—­unless, indeed we had all moved on a step.

“How did you find us, Sergeant?” I asked feebly.

“Didn’t find you, Doctor,” answered Quick, “dog Pharaoh found you.  In a business like this a dog is more useful than man, for he can smell what one can’t see.  Now, if you feel better, Doctor, please look at Mr. Higgs, for I fear he’s gone.”

I looked, and, although I did not say so, was of the same opinion.  His jaw had fallen, and he lay limp and senseless; his eyes I could not see, because of the black spectacles.

“Water,” I said, and Quick poured some into his mouth, where it vanished.

Still he did not stir, so I opened his garments and felt his heart.  At first I could detect nothing; then there was the slightest possible flutter.

“There’s hope,” I said in answer to the questioning looks.  “You don’t happen to have any brandy, do you?” I added.

“Never travelled without it yet, Doctor,” replied Quick indignantly, producing a metal flask.

“Give him some,” I said, and the Sergeant obeyed with liberality and almost instantaneous effect, for Higgs sat up gasping and coughing.

“Brandy; filthy stuff; teetotaller!  Cursed trick!  Never forgive you.  Water, water,” he spluttered in a thick, low voice.

We gave it to him, and he drank copiously, until we would let him have no more indeed.  Then, by degrees, his senses came back to him.  He thrust up his black spectacles which he had worn all this while, and stared at the Sergeant with his sharp eyes.

“I understand,” he said.  “So we are not dead, after all, which perhaps is a pity after getting through the beastly preliminaries.  What has happened?”

“Don’t quite know,” answered Orme; “ask Quick.”