The sultry hours dragged slowly on, and the Southern Cross had set and risen again in the eastern sky, yet not a sound reached our ears. Phil relieved Mac at midnight, and I in turn took his place two hours later, but the night passed without alarm.
| An Extinct Volcano we camped on. |
We had a very dry and unpalatable breakfast next morning; only a few drops of chocolate-coloured sediment remained in the canvas bag, and this none of us cared to swallow for a variety of reasons. So we munched our hard damper, and chewed refractory portions of tinned dog, imagining it to be the most luxurious fare extant, though, unfortunately our imagination was not of a very strong order. We lost no time in making a start, for the early hours were the coolest for travelling, and we wished to gain the shelter of the brush before the sun had swung right overhead. The camels were truly in a very bad state; they could scarcely bear their usual burdens, and reeled drunken-like for several minutes after being loaded, but seemed to recover somewhat when a few miles had been traversed. Yet, strive as we might, we could not make speedy progress, and it was almost noon when we drew near to the timber. The heat was becoming very intense, and in our semi-famished condition we suffered severely.
"We'll camp in the most shaded part of the scrub, boys," I cried, signing to Mac to alter "Slavery's" course more to westward. Phil now clutched my arm excitedly.
"Is that smoke or a light cloud-patch over the tips of these trees?" he asked, directing my gaze towards a thick clump of lime-trees that lay well ahead in the line of our changed route.
I surveyed the feathery shadow indicated intently. "A native smoke, Phil," I answered, as quietly as I could, though hope sprang up within me at the sight.
"What we must do, then," said Phil determinedly, "is to capture one or two representatives of the tribe and make them lead us to water."