Golah expected to reach the watering-place early in the evening; and all the caravan was excited by the anticipation of soon obtaining a plentiful supply of water.
It was well they were inspired by this hope. But for that, long before the sun had set, Sailor Bill and three or four others would have dropped down in despair, physically unable to move any farther. But the prospect of plenty of water to be found only a few miles ahead, brought at the same time, resolution, strength and life. Faint and feeble, they struggled on, nearly mad with the agony of nature’s fierce demands; and soon after sunset they succeeded in reaching the well.
It was dry!
Not a drop of the much desired element was shining in the cavity where they had expected to find it.
Sailor Bill, and some of the other slaves, sank upon the earth, muttering prayers for immediate death.
Golah was in a great rage with everything; and his wives, children, slaves, and camels, that were most familiar with his moods, rushed here and there to get out of his way.
Suddenly he seemed to decide on a course to be taken in this terrible emergency; and his anger, to some extent, subsided.
Unbuckling the last goat’s-skin of water from one of the camels, he poured out a small cup for each individual of the kafila. Each was then served with a little sangleh and a couple of dried figs.
All were now ordered to move on towards the west, Golah leading the way. The new route was at right angles to the course they had been following during the earlier part of the day.
Some of the slaves, who declared that they were unable to go farther, found out, after receiving a few ticklings of the stick, that they had been mistaken. The application of Golah’s cudgel awakened dormant energies of which they had not deemed themselves possessed.