The
fear that the third feather would never be brought back to Ethne, that
she would never have the opportunity to take back the fourth of her own
free will, no longer troubled him. Even that great hope of "the
afterwards" was for the moment banished from his mind. He thought only
of Trench and the few awkward words he had spoken in the corner of the
zareeba on the first night when they lay side by side under the sky.
"No," he repeated, "he must not die here." And through all that day and
night he watched by Trench's side the long hard battle between life and
death. At one moment it seemed that the three years of the House of
Stone must win the victory, at another that Trench's strong constitution
and wiry frame would get the better of the three years.
For that night, at all events, they did, and the struggle was prolonged.
The dangerous seventh day was passed. Even Ibrahim began to gain hope;
and on the thirteenth day Trench slept and did not ramble during his
sleep, and when he waked it was with a clear head. He found himself
alone, and so swathed in camel-cloths that he could not stir; but the
heat of the day was past, and the shadow of the House of Stone lay black
upon the sand of the zareeba.
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