One evening I was sitting on the ground in front of the little tent I had with me, chewing the last leg of a miserable fowl I had bought from a native for a bit of cloth worth twenty fowls, and staring at the hot red sun sinking down over the desert, when suddenly I saw a figure, apparently that of a European, for it wore a coat, on the slope of the rising ground opposite to me, about three hundred yards away.

The figure crept along on its hands and knees, then it got up and staggered forward a few yards on its legs, only to fall and crawl again.

Seeing that it must be somebody in distress, I sent one of my hunters to help him, and presently he arrived, and who do you suppose it turned out to be ?" "Jose Silvestre, of course," said Captain Good.
"Yes, Jose Silvestre, or rather his skeleton and a little skin.

His face was a bright yellow with bilious fever, and his large dark eyes stood nearly out of his head, for all the flesh had gone.

There was nothing but yellow parchment-like skin, white hair, and the gaunt bones sticking up beneath.
"'Water! for the sake of Christ, water!' he moaned and I saw that his lips were cracked, and his tongue, which protruded between them, was swollen and blackish.
"I gave him water with a little milk in it, and he drank it in great gulps, two quarts or so, without stopping.