CHAPTER XXIII.
The Dry Creek—Brown has a Solitary Camp—A Mysterious Light
"It is unfortunate," said Morton the next morning when they were preparing to start, "that Stuart did not give a description of the creek, or of the water where they camped the next night."
"Yes, it's rather a game of blindman's-buff, for they may have gone north or south of the direct line."
"How far do you make it to the mountain direct?" asked Brown.
A rough chart, compiled every night by dead reckoning, had been kept since they started, and Morton had been working it up the night before.
"Over one hundred miles; and if it is scrub all the way, with sand underfoot, equal to one hundred and fifty."
"No good, then, our striking straight for the mountain and trusting to chance for finding water on the way?"
"Too risky altogether. We must find this brackish creek somehow."