"Poeskop and I, uncle," said Guy. "Hasn't Tom turned up yet?"
"Not yet," said Mr. Blakeney, without a trace of anxiety; "but he'll be here presently, no doubt. How do you feel? Dry?"
"Dry isn't the word for it, uncle," said Guy. "I never knew what thirst was until to-day; not even when I got lost at Bamborough, hunting hartebeest. I would have given £5 willingly for a glass of water in the last hour or two."
"Well, you were a pair of silly fellows to go tearing off without your water-bottles and without food; and when I heard of it afterwards, I knew you would suffer for it. Now have a drink, lad. Here, Seleti, fetch the baas some water."
Seleti brought water from one of the barrels, and, lukewarm, muddy, and ill-tasted as was the stuff, to Guy it seemed the veriest nectar he had ever tasted. Then the Bushman drank.
"Now, Guy," said his uncle, "I wouldn't drink much of that muddy stuff. Have a bowl of tea; it will quench your thirst far better, and pull you together."
Guy took his uncle's advice, and felt all the better for it. Then he ate some supper. They sat by the fire till 11 o'clock, expecting Tom to ride up at any moment; but no Tom appeared. They were in the middle of a dangerous piece of thirst country, and it was absolutely essential that the oxen and wagon should trek on. The cattle had already endured two days and nights without touching water; they must reach the river-bed in front of them within the next twenty-four hours, or die. Enough water had been carried in the wagon-barrels to supply human necessities and give a scant drink to the horses hitherto, but that was drawing to an end, and the horses must push on also.
Leaving the wagon to go forward, and retaining with them three of the freshest horses, some food, and full water-bottles, Mr. Blakeney, Guy, and Mangwalaan stayed behind at the fire waiting for the return of Tom. Poeskop had now to accompany the wagon and show the way to water. Dawn came round, but still Tom tarried. Mr. Blakeney began now to betray some anxiety. He knew that his boy had no water with him, and he knew that two days and nights of thirst in such a veldt constituted a very real danger.
They cantered back to their camp of the previous morning and took the spoor of the three hunters, hoping in that way to trace the wanderings of the lost lad. Mangwalaan was a splendid tracker, as good almost as Poeskop himself; but even to Mangwalaan that inhospitable wilderness refused to yield up its secret. Troops of eland and gemsbuck had wandered about the country meanwhile, obliterating all traces of the hunter's devious wanderings; and after searching throughout the long and hot day, the three camped out in that desolate wilderness, dead tired, disheartened, and, in the case of two of them, with the foreboding of some nameless calamity weighing upon their spirits. They lit a fire, and almost in silence ate some food and drank a portion of the little lime juice and water that remained to them. Then Guy dozed off--he could keep awake no longer--and he and Mangwalaan slept.
He was awakened just before the dawn by the touch of his uncle's hand. Starting up, he looked into Mr. Blakeney's face, and was horrified at the change that had come over him. He looked ten years older, drawn, gray, and haggard. He had, in fact, been awake all night, in a state of intense nervous anxiety about his son.