"The puir beastie's feenished," Mac said sorrowfully, "an' nae wunner."
"Here's anither ane," wailed Stewart, and I looked up to see him wildly endeavouring to keep "Sin" from falling on the top of sundry cooking utensils. It was plain that two at least of the horses could go no further if fortune did not speedily favour us.
"This is the deevil's ain countrie," groaned Mac helplessly, and for the moment I felt utterly disheartened as I watched the poor animals convulsively gasping on the sand.
A shout from Phil drew my attention. "There's a spring here, boys," he cried gleefully from the lime-tree hollow.
It was a welcome discovery; I had almost despaired of finding water in the vicinity. "We'll camp for the day," I said, "and give our pack train a much-needed rest."
The spring was a small one and beautifully clear; its waters gurgled gently through a fissure in a white kaolin formation, and the surplus flow was absorbed by the spreading roots of the climbing growths mentioned. It was half hidden by an outjutting boulder, and further cunningly screened from view by a heavy clump of overhanging grass. Evidently the blacks were in the habit of camping here frequently; the breakwind might have been erected for one night's shelter, but the track towards the well had been long in use.
"I hope our landlords do not visit us to-night," Phil remarked, as we gazed at each other through the smoke of our camp fire some little time later.
"It wud be a vera onfort'nate happenin'," Mac grunted placidly, drawing his gun closer.
"They're mebbe cannibals," suggested Stewart uneasily.
"We'll keep a watch in case of accident," I said; "but I don't expect they'll give us any trouble."