Hope sprung anew! Their hearts fairly sang.
“Guess we better stay right here for the night. Rip. We’re likely to
lose them again if we try to follow them in this dingy light.”
“Whatever you say. I could stretch out on the soaking ground, I’m so
tired!”
“Same here, but on the other hand that wouldn’t pay. We’ve been soaked
long enough as it is.”
Looking around, Westy spied a huge tree, with big broad limbs, wide
enough for them to recline on. The tree next to it was growing so close
that its branches also added further protection from the rain and
provided more space for their bodies.
They clambered up and by Westy doubling his knees under him it enabled
Rip to lay his head back, but kept his knees upright. The branches of
the other tree supported Westy’s back nicely.
All he was able to do was catnap in his stiff, rigid position, for he
felt duty bound to keep a watchful eye on Rip, who was likely to fall
out should he try to turn suddenly. It was terribly uncomfortable, but
better than the wet ground, and their close quarters afforded more
warmth.
Hour after hour seemed to have passed and no murmur or word had emanated
from Rip’s lips. Just the steady laborious breathing--unusually heavy,
Westy thought, but probably from the discomfort. Still, he slept!
After quite a lapse of time Rip moved slightly and Westy immediately
leaned forward.
“Westy?” Rip’s voice had a strange sound.
“Yes? What is it?”
“I’ve just got to have some more of that water!”
“Rip, old kid, I’d gladly go and get it, but there isn’t a thing to
carry it in and I dare say I’d never find even a pool in this darkness.”
“Never thought of that, Wes! ’S all right----”
His voice trailed away drowsily and the next moment his steady breathing
was resumed.
“Just dreaming, I guess,” Westy said.
And so he sat on until he thought that night was a thing made up of
terrifying silence; an abyss of blackness wherein the hours hid and
disported playfully about, instead of going quickly by as all good
daytime hours did. The hours of that night simply plunged Westy into the
very depths of despair.
“Ah, but the tracks!” He had forgotten them for the moment. Dawn would
bring them something at that, so he must not give up.
Rip was mumbling again, talking jumbled in his sleep and let his legs
fall over the limb.
“Wes, you there?”
“Of course. What now?”
“S’more of that water ’s all I want!”
“You that thirsty, Rip?”
“Yeh, can’t help it. S’more of that water ’s all----.”
“Gosh, I can’t get it now. Can’t you wait a little longer until it
brightens a little? I don’t want to lose my way in the darkness and
leave you here alone. We’d both be alone in this infernal place then!”
“’S all right. Can’t be ’lone, huh? Must have water, though, ’s all.
_Water!_”
His voice was not the voice of Rip, Westy thought. It sounded like some
strange being whom he did not know. He mumbled again.
“Been dreamin’, Wes--that Unk was hitting me on the head with a hammer
for going in the lake. Hit me so hard--still hurts. My head! Let me lay
my head in your lap, Wes, won’t you? No sissy--only tree’s so hard and
it hurts.”
“Sure thing!” Westy pulled him gently by the arms, meanwhile thinking
deep thoughts. Rip’s head sank in his lap and it gave Westy a chance to
stretch his legs a bit over on the next limb.
“’S soft snap,” Rip continued in the strange voice. “Tell Unk to bring
’s more that water--nice green water!”
Westy’s hand touched his forehead and face lightly and then felt his
burning body. There was no doubt of it, he realized.
Rip was delirious.