The second day dragged onward, its hours bringing no change for the
better, no relief, no slightest ray of hope. The hot sun scorched them
pitilessly, and two of the wounded died delirious. From dawn to dark
there came no slackening of the savage watchfulness which held the
survivors helpless behind their coverts. The merest uplifting of a
head, the slightest movement of a hand, was sufficient to demonstrate
how sharp were those savage eyes. No white man in the short
half-circle dared to waste a single shot now; all realized that their
stock of ammunition was becoming fearfully scant, yet those scheming
devils continually baited them to draw their fire.
Another long black night followed, during which, for an hour or so in
turn, the weary defenders slept, tossing uneasily, and disturbed by
fearful dreams. Then gray and solemn, amid the lingering shadows of
darkness, dawned the third dread day of unequal conflict. All
understood that it was destined to be their last on this earth unless
help came. It seemed utterly hopeless to protract the struggle, yet
they held on grimly, patiently, half-delirious from hunger and thirst,
gazing into each other's haggard faces, almost without recognition,
every man at his post.
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