第61章

Therewasnothinginsight。Formilesaround，thealkaliwasempty，solitary，quiveringandshimmeringunderthepeltingfireoftheafternoon’ssun。

Butoncemorethespurbitintohisbody，goadinghimon。

Therewastobenorest，nogoingback，nopause，nostop。

Hurry，hurry，hurryon。Thebrutethatinhimsleptsoclosetothesurfacewasaliveandalert，andtuggingtobegone。Therewasnoresistingthatinstinct。Thebrutefeltanenemy，scentedthetrackers，clamoredandstruggledandfought，andwouldnotbegainsaid。

“ICAN’Tgoon，“groanedMcTeague，hiseyessweepingthehorizonbehindhim，“I’mbeatout。I’mdogtired。Iain’tsleptanyfortwonights。“Butforallthatherousedhimselfagain，saddledthemule，scarcelylessexhaustedthanhimself，andpushedononcemoreoverthescorchingalkaliandundertheblazingsun。

Fromthattimeonthefearneverlefthim，thespurneverceasedtobite，theinstinctthatgoadedhimtofightneverwasdumb；hurryorhalt，itwasallthesame。Onhewent，straighton，chasingtherecedinghorizon；flagellatedwithheat；torturedwiththirst；crouchingover；lookingfurtivelybehind，andattimesreachinghishandforward，thefingersprehensile，grasping，asitwere，towardthehorizon，thatalwaysfledbeforehim。

ThesunsetuponthethirddayofMcTeague’sflight，nightcameon，thestarsburnedslowlyintothecooldarkpurpleofthesky。Thegiganticsinkofwhitealkaliglowedlikesnow。McTeague，nowfarintothedesert，heldsteadilyon，swingingforwardwithgreatstrides。Hisenormousstrengthheldhimdoggedlytohiswork。Sullenly，withhishugejawsgrippingstolidlytogether，hepushedon。Atmidnighthestopped。

“Now，“hegrowled，withacertaindesperatedefiance，asthoughheexpectedtobeheard，“now，I’mgoingtolayupandgetsomesleep。Youcancomeornot。“

Heclearedawaythehotsurfacealkali，spreadouthisblanket，andsleptuntilthenextday’sheatarousedhim。

Hiswaterwassolowthathedarednotmakecoffeenow，andsobreakfastedwithoutit。Untilteno’clockhetrampedforward，thencampedagainintheshadeofoneoftherarerockledges，and“layup“duringtheheatoftheday。Byfiveo’clockhewasoncemoreonthemarch。

Hetravelledonforthegreaterpartofthatnight，stoppingonlyoncetowardsthreeinthemorningtowaterthemulefromthecanteen。Againthered-hotdayburnedupoverthehorizon。Evenatsixo’clockitwashot。

“It’sgoingtobeworsethaneverto-day，“hegroaned。“I

wishIcouldfindanotherrocktocampby。Ain’tIevergoingtogetoutofthisplace？“

Therewasnochangeinthecharacterofthedesert。

Alwaysthesamemeasurelessleaguesofwhite-hotalkalistretchedawaytowardthehorizononeveryhand。Hereandtheretheflat，dazzlingsurfaceofthedesertbrokeandraisedintolonglowmounds，fromthesummitofwhichMcTeaguecouldlookformilesandmilesoveritshorribledesolation。Noshadewasinsight。Notarock，notastonebrokethemonotonyoftheground。Againandagainheascendedthelowunevennesses，lookingandsearchingforacampingplace，shadinghiseyesfromtheglitterofs