But for a long time all my efforts were in vain, and then, dragging him to the foot of a grass-tree, I propped him up slightly against it, wetted his shirt with water and wound it round his throat.

Meanwhile Yamba threw water on him and rubbed him vigorously.
At last he uttered a sound--half groan, half sigh (it thrilled me through and through); and I noticed that he was able to swallow a few drops of water.

The gloom of night was now descending on that strange wilderness of sand and spinifex, so we prepared to stay there with our helpless charge until morning.

Yamba and I took it in turns to watch over him and keep his mouth moistened.

By morning he had so far revived that he opened his eyes and looked at me.