I made a bed for him with my own clothing on the hard rock, and bathed him and made him drink, while all the time a string of delirious drivel poured forth from his hot, dry lips.

That lasted many hours, until finally he fell into a deep, calm sleep.  But his body was without fuel, and I was convinced he would never awaken; yet I feared to touch him.  Those were weary hours, squatting by his side with his hand gripped in my own, with the ever-increasing pangs of hunger and weariness turning my own body into a roaring furnace of pain.

Suddenly I felt a movement of his hand; and then came his voice, weak but perfectly distinct: 

“Well, Paul, this is the end.”

“Not yet, Harry boy; not yet.”

I tried to put cheer and courage into my own voice, but with poor success.

“I—­think—­so.  I say, Paul—­I’ve just seen Desiree.”

“All right, Hal.”

“Oh, you don’t need to talk like that; I’m not delirious now.  I guess it must have been a dream.  Do you remember that morning on the mountain—­in Colorado—­when you came on us suddenly at sunrise?  Well, I saw her there—­only you were with her instead of me.  So, of course, she must be dead.”

His logic was beyond me, but I pressed his hand to let him know that I understood.

“And now, old man, you might as well leave me.  This is the end.  You’ve been a good sport.  We made a fight, didn’t we?  If only Desiree—­but there!  To Hades with women, I say!”

“Not that—­don’t be a poor loser, Hal.  And you’re not gone yet.  When a man has enough fight in him to beat out an attack of fever he’s very much alive.”

But he would not have it so.  I let him talk, and he rambled on, with scarcely an idea of what he was saying.  The old days possessed his mind, and, to tell the truth, the sentiment found a welcome in my own bosom.  I said to myself, “This is death.”

And then, lifting my head to look down the dark passage that led away before us, I sprang to my feet with a shout and stood transfixed with astonishment.  And the next instant there came a cry of wonder from Harry: 

“A light!  By all the gods, a light!”

So it was.  The passage lay straight for perhaps three hundred yards.  There it turned abruptly; and the corner thus formed was one blaze of flickering but brilliant light which flowed in from the hidden corridor.

It came and went, and played fitfully on the granite walls; still it remained.  It was supernaturally brilliant; or so it seemed to us, who had lived in utter darkness for many days.

I turned to Harry, and the man who had just been ready to die was rising to his feet!

“Wait a minute—­not so fast!” I said half angrily, springing to support him.  “And, for Heaven’s sake, don’t make any noise!  We’re in no condition to fight now, and you know what that light means.”

“But what is it?” demanded the boy excitedly.  “Come on, man—­ let’s go!”