Having whisked away with this the flies that were devouring Jeremy's back, he slung it by a strip of fibre from the lad's neck, so that it protected him from further attacks as well as from the rays of the sun.

Next, sitting down beside him, he drew the sufferer's head down on his own shoulder, and bathed his face from a pannikin of cold water.
Pitt shuddered and moaned on a long, indrawn breath.
"Drink!" he gasped.

"Drink, for the love of Christ!" The pannikin was held to his quivering lips.

He drank greedily, noisily, nor ceased until he had drained the vessel.

Cooled and revived by the draught, he attempted to sit up.
"My back!" he screamed.
There was an unusual glint in Mr.Blood's eyes; his lips were compressed.