“No, sir. If we had we should have come upon the little river, and the ponies would have been kicking up the stones.”
“Then where are we?” said the lieutenant impatiently.
“That’s just what I’m trying to find out, sir. I wouldn’t care if I knew which was the north, because then one could say which was the south.”
“Psh! It all comes of trusting to the ponies.”
“Yes, sir; but that’s one comfort,” said the sergeant. “We know they’re honest and would not lead us wrong. Poor brutes! they’re doing their best.”
“I’m beginning to feel hopelessly lost, sergeant. I believe we keep going on and on in a circle.”
“Well, sir, we might be doing worse, because it must be daylight by-and-by.”
“Not for hours,” said Dickenson impatiently. “We are, as I said, hopelessly lost.”
“Hardly,” said the sergeant to himself, “for here we are.” Then aloud he once more proposed that they should bivouac till daybreak.
“No,” said the leader decisively. “We’ll keep on. We must have been coming in the right direction, and, after all, I dare say Groenfontein is close at hand.”