But I mus' go on, I mus' go--O--certainement."
The light came nearer and nearer. His footsteps quickened, though he
staggered now and then, and went like a horse that has run its race, but
is driven upon its course again, going heavily with mouth open and head
thrown forwards and down.
"But I mus' to get there, an' you-you will to help me, eh?"
Again he swayed, but her strong arm held him up. As they ran on, in a
kind of dog-trot, her hand firm upon his arm--he seemed not to notice it
--she became conscious, though it was half dark, of what sort of man she
had saved. He was about her own age, perhaps a year or two older, with
little, if any, hair upon his face, save a slight moustache. His eyes,
deep sunken as they were, she made out were black, and the face, though
drawn and famished, had a handsome look. Presently she gave him another
sip of brandy, and he quickened his steps, speaking to himself the while.
"I haf to do it--if I lif. It is to go, go, go, till I get."
Now they came to the hut where the firelight flickered on the window-
pane; the door was flung open, and, as he stumbled on the threshold, she
helped him into the warm room. She almost pushed him over to the fire.
Divested of his outer coat, muffler, cap, and leggings, he sat on a bench
before the fire, his eyes wandering from the girl to the flames, and his
hands clasping and unclasping between his knees.
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