It was true. The stream was only a rivulet now, hardly six feet wide, and not above the ankle in depth. The game they were leaving behind, and a wave of hot wind seemed to spread from those rocky mountains.
They made longer marches now, covering on the first day twenty miles, and bringing up at sundown to where they could see the details of the mountains very distinctly.
During that day they had seen, in the extreme distance, a herd of quaggas bounding away to their rear, and later on had been able to bring down four white-tailed gnus. These were enough for their supper, and they had plenty of dried meat.
They camped by the side of the brook, now less than a yard wide. They had crossed no feeders for the past two days.
The soil round them was more stony and bare than it had been, yet close to the stream the banks were fertile. Before them the ground spread like a desert.
The mountain range in front was forbidding in the extreme. The nearer lap rose abruptly from the plain like a rocky coast. Huge wall-like precipices, that looked impassable, except where great rents yawned darkly at places.
Ned examined these chasms long and silently. The others looked at him expectantly.
“Well, Ned, old fellow, what do you think of those gateways?” asked Clarence.
“Not much—except as gateways,” answered Ned, quietly.
“Then you mean to go on?”