"Disappointed of water last night," he continued. "It was dark when I struck the little tank I was making for, and I found her dry; and my throat like a lime-kiln. Too dog-tired to go any further, so I rested till morning, and then struck for the Patagonia, with a devil of a headache to help me along. I knew of another tank nearer, but I would n't trust myself to find her in the dust. I helped to sink the Patagonia. Fine tank—ain't she?"
"First-class. Have you no swag?"
"I had a very good one a few hours ago, but Lord knows where she is now. I left her behind when the wind put me on all-fours. Kept pretty well in the same quarter, I think?"
"About the same."
"That'll be a bit of a guide. You'll be staying here till she slackens-down?'
"There's nothing else I can do."
"Well, I'll stay with you. If you shoot me straight for the swamp I'll be right. I'll spell to-night at the tank, and then have a try for my swag."
"You'll find two very decent coves camped at the tank, with the engine and pump. They'll put you on your feet."
"Good again."
"Which way are you travelling?" I asked.