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From Daly waters, and at many places still farther south, the grass was for miles at a stretch so high that, mounted on the bicycle, I often could not see over the top of it. In front, at such times, was only a faint streak or hollow, where the top of the bending grass at either side of the narrow pad met. The pad itself, the ground on which I cycled, was not at such times visible—except when I dismounted and crept down into the strange narrow tunnel to have a reassuring look for or at it. When riding, a passage through was forced, or as it were, was ploughed open, which when the machine had passed closed up again as water would. It felt like being engulphed in ocean. I often fancied I was on the point of drowning, and sat bolt upright to take in a breath of the upper air. That was fancy; what I now say is not.
At every few hundred yards, the thinner, shorter, wiry undergrowth of "blades" wound round and round the rear hub, until the roll becoming wide and high and tightly coiled, it acted as a brake twixt wheel and forks. They became entwined among the chain's links, and fastened themselves between the teeth on both the sprocket wheels, and so frequent stoppages were a necessity.
This state of things lasts only to the end of May or June. The long, rank, useless grass, being an impediment to the progress of man and beast, is, as it dries, fired by passing travellers, and the second growth which then springs up, is short and sweet. The natives, too, set fire to it, as when it grows, they cannot see or track the game or animals they hunt for. Many patches had already been burned off, and the minute particles of black ash which overspread the ground, rose at the slightest touch, floated in the air, and begrimed the passer-by.
Two very extensive fires faced me after parting from the natives at Esther Well. I had grown used to riding among smouldering embers, and with the grass or dry trees burning right and left; but the second of these fires was the biggest thing I had witnessed. After passing out of the first, and leaving one black, sky-obscuring wall behind, a mile or two's stretch of untouched grass and tropic bush and stunted gums was ridden on to. At the end of this arose a mighty pall of jet-black smoke, stretched out I knew not how far, with flame-jets glancing through. The whole country seemed ablaze. The land was overcast, the sky shrouded as if a fearful thunder storm was imminent. The smoke ascended and remained suspended, as might dark, heavy, threatening banks of cloud, and the fire at intervals leaped up and gleamed on this side or on that—a passable equivalent for lightning.
It was a grandly impressive spectacle. But there were other considerations than the spectacular. I looked, a little uneasily, for an unlighted opening along the fast advancing line; and seeing such a gap between two trees where there was little else but sand, I hurried over—walking—and so passed through.
A dozen steps in I stopped to look behind. The flames had already closed in!
In front, far on as I could see, the stems or branches of dry standing trees were burning; and on the ink-black ground were smouldering heaps of tindery bush, or still-blazing fallen limbs. Thick strewn everywhere were the hot, and quickly blackening ashes of that tall grass which had been waving majestically in each breath of wind a few short moments since.