170 The Light That Failed blind! I’m blind, and the darkness will never go away.” He made as if to leap from the bed, but Torpenhow’s arms were round him, and Jorpenhow’s chin was on his shoulder, and his breath was squeezed out of him. He could only gasp, “Blind!” and wriggle feebly. “Steady, Dickie, steady!” said the deep voice in his ear, and the grip tightened. “Bite on the bullet, old man, and don’t let them think you’re afraid,” The grip could draw no closer. Both men were breathing heavily. Dick threw his head from side to side and groaned. “Let me go,” he panted. “You’re cracking my ribs. We-we mustn’t let them think we’re afraid, must we, — all the powers of darkness and that lot?” “Lie down. It’s all over now.” “Yes,” said Dick, obediently. “But would you mind letting me hold your hand? I feel as if I wanted something to hold on to. One drops through the dark so.” Torpenhow thrust out a large and hairy paw from the long chair. Dick clutched it tightly, and in half an hour had fallen asleep. Torpenhow withdrew his hand, and, stooping over Dick, kissed him lightly on the forehead, as men do sometimes kiss a wounded comrade in the hour of death, to ease his departure. In the gray dawn Torpenhow heard Dick talking to himself. He was adrift on the shoreless tides of delirium, speaking very quickly — “It’s a pity, — a great pity; but it’s helped, and it must be eaten, Master George. Sufficient unto the day is the blindness thereof, and, further, putting aside all Melancholias and false humors, it is of obvious notoriety — such as mine was — that the queen can do no wrong. Torp doesn’t know that. I'll tell him when we’re a little farther into the desert. What a bungle those boatmen are making of the steamer-ropes! They'll have that four-inch hawser chafed through in a minute. I told you so — there she goes! White foam on green water,