Fifteen Hundred Miles an Hour

by Charles Dixon

We allowed ourselves one hour's rest, then resumed our march, and continued struggling on till sunset. During the afternoon we crossed a stretch of better ground, and by the time we halted for the night, we seemed to have done at least half the distance that separated the Sirius from the mountains. We encamped in a rocky hollow. Tent or fire we had none: we could not carry the one, and no materials for the other were to be got in this wilderness. We ate our cold supper and then fell asleep, with nothing but the starry sky above us, and with the soft sand for our beds. It was a lovely night, warm and windless and still, so that we experienced little or no discomfort, and awoke refreshed, just as the rising sun was tipping the distant hills with gold. Not one drop of water, not the slightest sign of moisture had we discovered, and the night had been dry and dewless. Not a blade of vegetation, or a trace of any living thing, could yet be seen—-all was desert and barren.

With no fire to warm or cook anything, our morning meal was not quite so savoury as it might have been, but we were hungry, and hungry men are rarely fastidious. Meat essence dissolved in a little water, with biscuits and a draught of watered wine, formed our repast, and as soon as it was done we picked up our belongings and made an early start. We were anxious to get as much ground covered as possible before the sun became so oppressively powerful; besides, death stared us in the face on every side in this terrible wilderness, and delay might prove fatal to us all.

Slowly, terribly slowly, mile after mile was passed, and the mountains before us began to show out in more detail. They were barren and sterile enough. Everything seemed withered and blasted, and the sun in fierce splendour travelled across the waterless heavens, and burnt into the bare rocks and sands, wasting his life-nourishing heat on a region of eternal desolation. By mid-day we were so fatigued that we sank down beside a big stone to rest our weary limbs and throbbing heads. Eat we could not; our mouths were dry and parched, and we craved for water.

There was but a quart of the precious fluid left—a quart of lukewarm, half-putrid water, between four thirsty men and a panting dog! Sandy begged hard for a drop for his dog, and he moistened poor Rover's mouth with a spoonful; but we ourselves tried to slake our awful thirst with a few of the Doctor's lozenges. They answered admirably; but their effect was only momentary, and by the time each little cake was sucked away we were as thirsty as before. The sun beat down upon us remorselessly, and to save ourselves from being scorched to death we scraped a hole under the shadow of the stone, and there, huddled together in the scanty shade, we lay waiting for the sun to sink lower in the west before we tried to drag our weary feet a little farther. For three hours we remained in this hole in the sand; then once more we started on, moistening our mouths from our nearly empty flasks, and munching a biscuit as we went.

Towards night the temperature became much lower, and we were able to get along a little faster; but every mile that we went we found our burdens becoming heavier. Yet we struggled on; nor did we seek a camping-place until we reached the lower slopes of the mountains. Still all was desolation; closer scrutiny only confirmed the opinions formed by a more distant view, for the hills were as sterile and barren as the plain we had crossed.

"Never mind, my friends," said the Doctor, "we have crossed the worst part. Here, amid the mountains, we are sure of more shade, and shall most probably find water, if not on these slopes, surely on the other side."

"Well, Doctor, if we don't find water soon, it will be all over with us," remarked Temple. "I myself don't feel equal to another day like this has been."

"None of us know the compass of our strength, or what we can do, until spurred on by the goads of necessity, Temple," the Doctor answered.

We selected a sheltered nook among the rocks, each smoothing the sand into the semblance of a couch, and there we used the remainder of the water to make our essence, and then stretching our stiff and weary limbs, soon fell asleep.

Not one of us awoke again until the next day was far advanced. The sun was four hours high towards the zenith ere we roused from our slumber. The long sleep had done us good; our heads were easier; our thirst not so intense. We drank the remainder of our wine and water, ate a few biscuits, and then prepared for our onward march. The rocky pass between two rugged mountains lay straight before us, and in single file we went our way. At first the precipitous sides of the mountains nearly met overhead, and the path was little more than a gloomy fissure; but this soon widened out as we ascended, and we eventually found ourselves in a broad valley, with an uninterrupted view for miles.