The night was coming on fast, when one day, after a long and weary trek, the heavily-laden waggon was approaching a belt of elevated forest-land, where the General had assured Mr Rogers they would find water.
It had been a toilsome day, hot and dusty, and at their midday rest there had been hardly a mouthful of herbage for the tired oxen, while water there was none. The contents of the two casks swinging behind the waggon were jealously guarded for the travellers’ use; but so miserable did the cattle seem that the two boys asked their father to tap one of them for the oxen and horses.
“It will be but a taste a-piece,” he said; “but perhaps you are right, boys.”
Then the tap being set running, every ox and horse had a refreshing taste, though it was hard work to get the pail away from each thirsty mouth.
Then all through that long parching afternoon they had toiled on, with the draught cattle growing more listless, the horses sluggish and restless; and a general feeling of weariness seemed to have seized upon all.
The result was shown in the silence with which they progressed. The driver and foreloper ceased to shout and crack their whips; the Zulus trudged slowly on behind the waggon; and out of compassion for their horses, Mr Rogers and his sons walked beside the weary beasts.
“You are sure we shall find water at sundown?” said Dick to the General.
“Nothing is sure out in the wilds, young master,” said the Zulu gravely. “There should be water there. If there is not, we must trek on through the night, to the first river or spring.”
“But will there be water there?”
“We shall be in the game country then, and I can soon find where the game goes to drink, and can lead you there.”