Once in a while he gave Beverley a soulless glance and said "damn" with utter indifference.
Nothing, however, could quench or even in the slightest sense allay the lover's desire.

He talked of Alice and the locket with constantly increasing volubility, saying over and over phrases of endearment in a half-delirious way, not aware that fever was fermenting his blood and heating his brain.

Probably he would have been very ill but for the tremendous physical exercise forced upon him.

The exertion kept him in a profuse perspiration and his robust constitution cast off the malarial poison.

Meantime he used every word and phrase, every grunt and gesture of Indian dialect that he could recall, in the iterated and reiterated attempt to make Long-Hair understand what he wanted.
When night came on again the band camped under some trees beside a swollen stream.