The thing was too vexatious, and his temper went; and
with his temper his last chance of finding his road. When he had
stumbled for what seemed hours he sat down on a boulder and whistled
dismally. The stream belonged to another watershed. If he followed it,
assuming that he did not break his neck over a dry cataract, he would be
through the mountains and near Taghati quicker than he intended.
Meantime the miserable George would wait at Nazri, would rouse the
Khautmi garrison on a false alarm, and would find himself irretrievably
separated from his friend. The thought was so full of irritation, that
he resolved not to stir one step further. He would spend the night if
need be in this place and wait till the mist lifted.
He found a hollow among the boulders, and improvidently ate half his
store of sandwiches. Then, finding his throat dry, he got up to hunt
for water. A trickle afar off in the rocks led him on, and sure enough
he found water; but when he tried to retrace his steps to his former
resting place he found that he had forgotten the way. This new place
was conspicuously less sheltered, but he sat down on the wet gravel, lit
a pipe with difficulty, and with his knees close to his chin strove to
possess his soul in patience.
He was tired, for he had slept little for two days, and the closer air
of the ravine made him drowsy.
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