You've a chance yet.

The way's getting a bit easier--I fancy we're on the right track and we've given those black devils the slip! Nurse your strength! You've a chance! Let me be.

It's no use carrying a dead man." Gaunt and wild, with the cold fear of death before him also, the younger man broke out into a fit of cursing.
"May they rot in the blackest corner of hell, Oom Sam and those miserable vermin!" he shouted.

"A path all the way, the fever season over, the swamps dry! Oh! when I think of Sam's smooth jargon I would give my chance of life, such as it is, to have him here for one moment.
To think that beast must live and we die!" "Prop me up against this tree, Trent--and listen," Monty whispered.
"Don't fritter away the little strength you have left." Trent did as he was told.

He had no particular affection for his partner and the prospect of his death scarcely troubled him.