Then he lost consciousness.
The beat of wings across his face aroused him with a start and a cry of
agony. The great bird of carrion, startled in its inspection, flew
clumsily off and settled fearlessly on the ground, blinking at him.
An immense revolt, a furious anger brought with it new strength. He rose
and rushed at the bird with clenched fist, cursing it as it lumbered
awkwardly away. Then he began desperately to struggle on, following the
tracks in the sand.
At the end of an hour specks appeared on the horizon. He looked at them
in his delirium and began to laugh uneasily.
"I must be out of my head," he said to himself seriously. "It's a
mirage. Well, I suppose it is the end. Who'll they put on the case now?
Keech, I suppose; yes, Keech; he's a good man. Of course it's a mirage."
As he continued to stumble forward, the dots assumed the shape of trees
and hills. He laughed contemptuously and began to remonstrate with
himself, repeating:
"It's a mirage, or I'm out of my head." He began to be worried, saying
over and over: "That's a bad sign, very bad.
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