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"
Arved grumbled, "Yes, I've noticed that when a man in an asylum begins
to suspect his keepers of madness he's mighty near lunacy himself."
"You have crazy blue eyes, Arved! Where's that flask--I'm dry again!
Let's sleep."
They drained the bottle and were soon dozing, while about them buzzed
the noon in all its torrid splendour.
When they awoke it was solid night. They yawned and damned the darkness,
which smelt like stale india-rubber, so Quell said. They cursed life and
the bitter taste in their mouths. Quell spoke of his thirst in words
that startled the easy-going Arved, who confessed that if he could rid
himself of the wool in his throat, he would be comparatively happy. Then
they stumbled along, bumping into trees, feeling with outstretched arms,
but finding nothing to guide them save the few thin stars in the torn
foliage overhead. Without watches, they could catch no idea of the hour.
The night was far spent, declared Arved; he discovered that he was very
hungry. Suddenly, from the top of a steep, slippery bank they pitched
forward into the highroad.


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