The American had a ruthless air.
At last Clarke, moving silently but quickly, bent over his patient, felt his pulse, and listened to his breathing.

Harding leaned forward eagerly.

Blake seemed less restless; his face, which had been furrowed, was relaxing; there was a faint damp on it.

He moved and sighed; and then, turning his head weakly, he closed his eyes.
A few moments later Clarke stood up, stretching out his arms with a gesture of deep weariness.
"I believe your partner has turned the corner," he said, "He must sleep as long as he is able." Harding crept away, conscious of a relief so overpowering that he was afraid he might do something foolish and disturb his comrade if he remained.

Scarcely noticing where he was going, he plunged into the swamp and plowed through it, smashing down the reeds and splashing in the pools.