CHAPTER XII
A DESERTED LAND
That night the water was not spared, and the rest of the meat was polished off in reckless fashion. After a three-hour rest, they took up the march again in renewed spirits, the Masai singing and chanting eagerly. But distances were deceptive in that country of clear vision and high altitude. When they camped at dawn after a hard march, they seemed no nearer the trees than before, and the Masai and Indians went to bed hungry, Jack making what little flour they had left into flapjacks.
By the time they camped at noon, however, the boys and Schoverling had brought in an eland, which they had found solitary. This staved off hunger, and without pausing to sleep the hunters set off again while the cattle rested. The country was well timbered farther ahead, and they rode toward this through scattered clumps of thorn-trees.
"There's a lion, right enough," said Jack, as one of the tawny beasts bounded away from a knoll to their right. "That means there's game around."
"We'll strike it in the trees," declared the General. "That seems like a good rolling game country stretching out in front."
Knowing that the doctor would bring on the wagon, they struck straight ahead for five miles. Gradually game became apparent, and after knocking over a couple of gazelles and a fine oryx, they found a waterhole. Akram Das was sent back to guide the wagon to it, and that night there was high feasting in camp.
"I'm mighty glad our cattle pulled through safe," said Schoverling. "We'll need them on the back trail."