For it was part of his boyish fancy that if he could deliver her asleep and undemonstrative of fear and suffering, he would be less blameful, and she less mindful of her trouble.

If it did not come--but he would not think of that yet! If she was thirsty meantime--well, it might rain, and there was always the dew which they used to brush off the morning grass; he would take off his shirt and catch it in that, like a shipwrecked mariner.

It would be funny, and make her laugh.

For himself he would not laugh; he felt he was getting very old and grown up in this loneliness.
It was getting darker--they should be looking into the wagons now.

A new doubt began to assail him.