Morning at last arrived, and they went on following the stream and the whitened trail of those demon ants.
The gorge was gradually becoming narrower, yet without any diminishing of those stupendous sides. It was not more than half the width it had been, and as they looked up, the sky appeared like a ribbon of blue very far above their heads. They were closed in now with rocks on all sides, as the chasm was getting more abrupt in its windings.
All at once they came to the head of the stream, while beyond them appeared only a dry and stony bed. At this sight the hearts of all sank and felt like lumps of lead.
The stream rose and bubbled out of a little fountain, while round it spread a patch of bright green grass. It was a delicious little patch of moisture and verdure in the midst of this surrounding vastness of shadow and sterility. As they flung down their burdens and rested beside them, they felt as if bidding farewell to their only friend.
It had been a good and trusty friend to them for many days, becoming more dearly prized the frailer it grew. It had saved their lives even at its last stretch, and now it was all they had to depend upon in the most uncertain future.
Some brushwood was found on the banks, and with this they made a fire and cooked breakfast. Then they sat down to consider matters.
After a long silence, Ned spoke. “Boys, we must see the top of this defile, and carry what water we require with us for the rest of the way. I reckon that we are more than halfway through it, and we have water-bags enough to last us a fortnight with care, and provisions for double that time.”
“Yes,” answered Fred and Clarence, steadily.
“I don’t savy going back yet, with those precious bashikonay behind us,” added Fred.
“Then let us unpack our waterproof bags and fill them here. We can keep on for a few days, and if nothing promising turns up, we can easily come back.”