"We must now, defying all the threatened deserts, go on towards the south," said Arthur, "and evade, if we possibly can, our implacable and inveterate pursuers. The temptation to cross the eastern mountains is great, but I fear, Wilkins, we should hardly be safe, even in the rear of such dangerous company."
"Nay, nay! Mr. Arthur, keep out of their way," said Wilkins. "Ye heared what Baldabella said about their going to rondessvowse ower yonder wi' them roguish bush-rangers; and I see no sense in running into t' thick on 'em."
"Certainly not, Wilkins," answered Arthur. "Then we will decide on a route due south. So, forward, my brave men, and let us carefully carry away the water we have preserved, for I fear much we have not yet passed the wilderness."
CHAPTER XXIV.
The Dry Wilderness.—Despair.—The Coming-down of the Waters.—The Discomfited Savages.—Hunger and Thirst.—The Footsteps in the Mud.—A Pond.—The Talegalla and its Nest.—The Valley of Promise.—The River to the South.
It was indeed on a wilderness they now entered, where low entangled brushwood spread as far as the eye could extend, unvaried by the appearance of a single tree rising above it; and as they toiled through or over this perplexing ground, carrying the bark sledge, which it was impossible to draw over the bush, they were often deceived by the sight of a line of tall reeds, the border of the bed of some river, now wholly dry, or merely muddy with the rain of the previous day. They saw no animals, except two or three emus, which swiftly fled from pursuit; and they were too eager to escape from the dry desert to waste time in the chase. For two days, successive morning suns showed them the same trackless and unwatered heaths spread before them; then the water was exhausted, and they turned away with loathing from the dry bread and potatoes.
Slowly and languidly they dragged on their weary way, still watching and hoping in vain. Another day of suffering dawned on them; and now the scorching air, the dry food, the fatigue, and the consuming thirst overcame them one after another, and before evening Mr. Mayburn said, "Let us lie down here, Arthur. God has chosen, in His wisdom, to put this termination to our efforts. Nature is exhausted; let us lie down and prepare for death."
"Not so, my dear father," answered Arthur. "God wills that we should be active, and strive to surmount difficulties, or He would not have bestowed on us the bounteous gifts of thought and action. Margaret, I know your faith and resolution; encourage my father."
"You look to me in vain, my dear brother," said Margaret. "I am unable to think or to move. Save our beloved father, and leave me beneath these bushes to die. I feel that death must be near at hand."