Now they would
rejoice hysterically, assuring each other of their good fortune,
again they would grow sick with the fear of disappointment. Time
after time they stepped out of the hut and stared apprehensively
up the slopes of La Cumbre to assure themselves that this was not
all a part of some fantastic illusion; over and over, in minutest
detail, Johnnie described what he had seen at the bottom of the
well. He tried more than once during the afternoon to sleep, but
he could not, for the moment he closed his eyes he found himself
back there in that pit upon the ridge's crest, straining at those
stubborn rocks and slippery timbers. This inaction was maddening,
his fatigue rendered him feverish and irritable.
Jacket, too, felt the strain, and after several fruitless attempts
to sleep he rose and went out into the sunshine, where he fell to
whetting his knife. He finished putting a double edge upon the
blade, fitted a handle to it, and then a cord with which to
suspend it round his neck. He showed it to O'Reilly, and after
receiving a word of praise he crept out-doors again and tried to
forget how sick he was. Black spots were dancing before Jacket's
eyes; he experienced spells of dizziness and nausea during which
he dared not attempt to walk. He knew this must be the result of
starvation, and yet, strangely enough, the thought of food was
distasteful to him.
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