She came back in half an hour, or even less, and dumped what looked like a particularly fat and shapeless 'possum down by him. He felt it, gave a cry of joy, and, catching hold of her, kissed her most violently.
"What's up?" said Smith, withdrawing his head from his hole.
"What's up," said the Baker deliriously, "why, this is up. Mrs. Mandeville is a darling, and cleverer than they make 'em. She's made a water-bag, Smith."
"What?" said Smith.
"She done it with the bloomin' old 'possum skin," cried the Baker, hugging Kitty still more violently; "ain't she a darlin'; just tying up the neck 'ole and three of 'is legs."
"Kitty," said Smith, "you're a genius, and have very likely saved our lives."
But he wondered why he had not thought of it himself. They started within an hour on their heavy and toilsome journey, as the hot sun went down a peculiar and bloody red. They had nothing to eat, and only about three quarts of water between them.
Smith, taking his direction by the setting sun, led the way, and the others followed side by side. As soon as it became dark, a star served him as a compass till midnight.
The aspect of the sand desert in the darkness was one of peculiar desolation, and the fact that it rolled sufficiently to prevent them seeing fifty yards ahead, made them exercise caution even when caution appeared unnecessary. They could not tell whether some black-fellows who knew the country might not cross it occasionally, and they might possibly stumble upon them sleeping. But as the heavy hours passed, and the labour of merely lifting their feet became painful, their needless caution vanished. They went blindly, and hardly noticed the visible changes in the sky.
For now there was a cool, quick breeze springing from the north-west quarter, and in the low north-west were clouds.