"What's the matter, Philip?" asked Gloria. "Are we lost?"

"I hope not, we only have to find that draw."

The girl said no more, but walked on side by side with the young
soldier. Both pulled their hats far down over their eyes to shield them
from the glare of the fierce rays of the sun, and did what they could to
keep out the choking clouds of alkali dust that swirled around them at
every step.

Philip, hardened by months of Southwestern service, stood the heat
well, except that his eyes ached, but he saw that Gloria was giving out.

"Are you tired?" he asked.

"Yes, I am very tired," she answered, "but I can go on if you will let
me rest a moment." Her voice was weak and uncertain and indicated
approaching collapse. And then she said more faintly, "I am afraid,
Philip, we are hopelessly lost."

"Do not be frightened, Gloria, we will soon be out of this if you will
let me carry you."

Just then, the girl staggered and would have fallen had he not caught
her.

He was familiar with heat prostration, and saw that her condition was
not serious, but he knew he must carry her, for to lay her in the
blazing sun would be fatal.