Thus, then, we proceeded awhile, resembling a sober man attempting to lead two drunken friends out of reach of that stern policeman, Death.  Orme’s strength must be wonderful; or was it his great spirit and his tender pity for our helplessness which enabled him to endure beneath this double burden.

Suddenly he fell down as though he had been shot, and lay there senseless.  The Professor, however, retained some portion of his mind, although it wandered.  He became light-headed, and rambled on about our madness in having undertaken such a journey, “just to pot a couple of beastly lions,” and although I did not answer them, I agreed heartily with his remarks.  Then he seemed to imagine that I was a clergyman, and kneeling on the sand, he made a lengthy confession of his sins which, so far as I gathered, though I did not pay much attention to them, for I was thinking of my own, appeared chiefly to consist of the unlawful acquisition of certain objects of antiquity, or of having overmatched others in the purchase of such objects.

To pacify him, for I feared lest he should go raving mad, I pronounced some religious absolution, whereon poor Higgs rolled over and lay still by Orme.  Yes; he, the friend whom I had always loved, for his very failings were endearing, was dead or at the point of death, like the gallant young man at his side, and I myself was dying.  Tremors shook my limbs; horrible waves of blackness seemed to well up from my vitals, through my breast to my brain, and thence to evaporate in queer, jagged lines and patches, which I realized, but could not actually see.  Gay memories of my far-off childhood arose in me, particularly those of a Christmas party where I had met a little girl dressed like an elf, a little girl with blue eyes whom I had loved dearly for quite a fortnight, to be beaten down, stamped out, swallowed by that vision of the imminent shadow which awaits all mankind, the black womb of a re-birth, if re-birth there be.

What could I do?  I thought of lighting a fire; at any rate it would serve to scare the lions and other wild beasts which else might prey upon us before we were quite dead.  It would be dreadful to lie helpless but sentient, and feel their rending fangs.  But I had no strength to collect the material.  To do so at best must have meant a long walk, for even here it was not plentiful.  I had a few cartridges left—­three, to be accurate—­in my repeating rifle; the rest I had thrown away to be rid of their weight.  I determined to fire them, since, in my state I thought they could no longer serve either to win food or for the purposes of defence, although, as it happened, in this I was wrong.  It was possible that, even in that endless desert, some one might hear the shots, and if not—­well, good-night.

So I sat up and fired the first cartridge, wondering in a childish fashion where the bullet would fall.  Then I went to sleep for awhile.  The howling of a hyena woke me up, and, on glancing around, I saw the beast’s flaming eyes quite close to me.  I aimed and shot at it, and heard a yell of pain.  That hyena, I reflected, would want no more food at present.