The first day's march, after they left the main camp, could not be said
to have been, in any sense of the word, either a pleasant or a
comfortable one. Both the men were ill at ease, not only with their
present lot, but also with each other. Moreas entertained the unpleasant
suspicion that Max, while he never failed in his duty, was, in reality,
more in sympathy with Bertram than with himself. The anxiety of what was
before them lay heavily upon their minds, while there was a nameless,
indescribable something that Max could not understand, and yet which
stood like a shadow between them. It soon became apparent to him that
the dangers to which they were to be subjected had not been in the least
exaggerated. For no less than four days they continued on through the
mountains, and it was only after incredible hardships that they managed
to reach the plains on the other side. Here, however, as it turned out,
they were in scarcely a better plight. As they expected, on leaving the
mountains they found themselves confronted by a stretch of desert. To
attempt to cross it seemed to be to run too great a risk, and yet to
turn back, when they were so near the end, seemed an equally foolish
undertaking. With a dogged determination, worthy of a better cause, and
with which Max had never credited him, Moreas decided in favour of
pushing on. It was a rash decision, for with every hour the condition of
the mules was becoming more and more pitiable, while the men themselves
were in scarcely a better case. Still Moreas remained in a state of
sullenness. When the animals were no longer able to bear their weights,
he got off and walked sulkily beside his own beast, grudged them the
delay when they rested, and after they had prepared their camp at night,
went so far as to insinuate that Max had been keeping the mules back to
serve his own purpose. It was indeed a dreary resting-place they had
that night. There was no shelter; no water, save that they had brought
with them; no food to revive their starving animals, save a few
mouthfuls of corn and half a dozen handfuls of parched grass. As soon as
his own meal was eaten, Moreas rolled himself up in his blankets and
went to sleep, leaving Max by the fire, watching its dull glow and
wondering whether he was destined to come safely out of this perilous
adventure or not. Overhead the great stars shone brilliantly, while the
low wind moaned like a banshee across the waste. He thought of those who
loved him in England, of Ottilie, and later of myself. At such a moment
his curiosity was excited as to what I had done when I discovered he had
left Rio.
Next morning, as soon as it was daylight, they saddled up once more, and
continued their march. For the moment the country, which consisted of
barren plains in front, behind, and on either side, showed no signs of
changing. As on the previous day, Moreas stalked grimly in front, never
looking behind him, and to all appearances oblivious of his companion's
presence.
One thing was growing more certain every hour, and that was the fact
that the hardships through which they had passed had combined, with
natural greed, to turn Moreas' brain.
"I shall have to keep my eyes on him, day and night," said Max to
himself. "In his present condition there is no saying what he may do."
This knowledge added a fresh horror to the situation. It is bad enough
to be starving anywhere, but it is a thousand times worse to have to do
so when alone in the wilds with a madman. As soon as they got into camp
that night, the second on that awful plain, Moreas commenced to walk in
circles round the fire, talking to himself meanwhile, and shaking his
fist at the darkening desert. When Max offered him a portion of the
dried _biltong_--all that remained to them in the way of food--he
refused it with an oath, adding, that he could not eat when they should
be pushing towards their destination!
"You won't be strong enough to reach it at all, if you don't eat
something," said Max philosophically.
He, himself, made as good a meal as possible, and then lay down to rest,
but he was too anxious for his own safety to fall asleep, until he was
quite convinced that Moreas was asleep also. He had no desire that the
other should steal a march on him during the night. What he had seen
that day in the mountains, when Moreas had stalked Bertram, was quite
sufficient to show him that his companion was not one who would stick at
trifles. At last, however, he dozed off.
As the afternoon of the next day approached, they saw before them
another low range of hills. These, when they approached them, proved to
be of iron-stone formation, a fact, which, as soon as he heard it,
caused Moreas to utter a cry of joy.
"We are nearly there!" he cried. "Those are the hills of which the
Indian told the old man. We have only to cross them, and we shall be at
the place where the diamonds are. Let us push on, push on. For heaven's
sake, man, stir yourself; there is not a moment to lose."
At last they reached the summit of the last hill, and looked down upon
the plains on the other side.
"It is the place! it is the place!" cried Moreas, almost beside himself
with excitement. "Yonder is the river he spoke of, and there, away to
the right, is its old course. You can even see the big black rocks that
he told me of, rising out of the sand. The Saints be praised, we are
here at last! We are here at last!"
So overcome was he by his excitement, that it was as much as Max could
do to prevent him from setting off at a run down the hillside. This was
the place, then, of which the poor, old, half-witted diamond hunter had
told Moreas. The place where diamonds were as large as hazel nuts, and
could be had for the picking up. He wondered how true the story would
prove to be. For his own part, he was not going to pin too much faith
upon it. If it turned out trumps, well and good; if not, he could
console himself with the reflection that the old fellow had played off
on Moreas a grimmer practical joke than had ever been perpetrated on
himself. The afternoon was well spent before they reached a spot which
they considered favourable for a camp. Max had already noticed with
satisfaction that there was a fair amount of game to be had for the
shooting, water was abundant, while for the animals there was a greater
supply of herbage than they had seen for many a long day. By this time
Moreas' head appeared to be quite turned. They had scarcely reached
their camp before he was off to try his luck among the sands of the old
river bed.
It was almost dark when he returned. When he did so, however, he shook
like a man with the palsy.
"Look what I have found!" he said, scarcely able to contain himself for
joy. "The old man did not deceive me after all. They are here. Here, I
tell you. I shall be the richest man on earth."
As he spoke he unclasped his fist, and showed Max _two fair-sized
diamonds_ lying in the hollow of his hand.