There he lay still a minute, listening and peering. Presently a tall figure, which looked gigantic in the dim light, bounded close to him, with a gun in his left hand, and a spear in his right. He had evidently made a rush in the direction of the flash, and now stood, looking right and left for the man who had fired. Harry almost touched him as he pressed the trigger, and the savage lay at his very feet. "I'll have his spoils any way," thought he; so he picked up the spear and Remington, and got back to his men as fast as he could. The Arab scouts, bothered by these two shots, were probably uncertain about the movements of the troops, and thought they had shifted their ground since they had marked them down, and possibly had flanking parties who might surround them. For they withdrew to a distance, fired a few shots in the direction where Harry _had been_, which was quite away from the main body, and the outpost too, and then gave no more trouble for that night. In the course of the next day the water gave out entirely, and there was not a drop in the army beyond what some few far-seeing, self-denying men, had hoarded in their gourds. Harry had not been one of these, and when the mid-day halt came he thought he was dying, and fell down in the glare of the sun, senseless. When he returned to life he found himself under the scanty shade of a mimosa tree, supported by the strong arm of a man whose sun-burned face and flowing beard, the loose robe which he wore, and the silk scarf which surrounded his tarboosh, with the pistol and dagger thrust into a shawl round his waist, seemed to betoken a native of the country; but the kindly eyes were those of an Englishman, as were the murmured words, "Poor lad! Poor lad!" which fell on his ear. His brow was deliciously cool, and his throat less parched; and he recognised that it was the man whose wonderful journey to Merv had so enthralled him when he read of it who had now spared the water, which was life, to damp his brow and give him respite; and he was certain that it was Mr O'Donovan, the newspaper correspondent, now accompanying the army of Hicks Pasha, who had saved his life. Howard, who came up at the moment, was almost awe-struck at the sacrifice. "I have known one man allow his veins to be drained to supply the life- blood which might be infused into the veins of his friend; but what was that to sparing water _now_!" he said. The patience and discipline of the men during this trying time were admirable; there was no grumbling, no repining against their leaders; and just fancy how the sturdy Briton would have growled! The officers did their best to cheer them up, assuring them that they were certain to reach the wells that afternoon, and always bearing an air of confidence in the future before them. But when they were alone together, and looked into each other's eyes, it was evident that they thought they were in a very desperate position.