And then as suddenly as it came, so suddenly the dry storm passed, and went howling across the wilderness in the chariot of the winds. For now, overhead, the stars were shining, and the moon was clear-cut and bright and splendid.
They rose out of the sand which had so nearly been their grave, and spat thick dust from their parched mouths.
"Where's the water?" asked Smith.
And Kitty gave a cry.
"I've lost it," she said.
And their being half-blind gave them a horrible shock. For it lay at their very feet. The girl had held on to it until the very last gust.
"That was a close one," said the Baker, "and now I 'ope we've done. The devil must have his finger in our pie. But after this we should get through."
"Don't be too sanguine," said Smith. But there he asked for something quite beyond his chum's strength. For the Baker's remarks on the storm, and the desert, and their luck, were of an extremely sanguine nature; at least, his one adjective was.
And Kitty, too, was about as badly frightened as she could be. Though sand storms are not uncommon in the bush, yet she had never had such an experience as this. She clung closely to the Baker when they resumed their interminable tramp.
"Cheer up, old girl," said the East Ender, "we'll be in the Mile End Road yet. I'll show you life."