"Well, you dunno," said the Baker, "and I dunno, but it's likely there'll be something or other down it. And after my last little try, I ain't goin' to quit no water again. 'Ungry I've bin both at 'ome and 'ere, but thirsty for a thing like water, that I never was. I'd rather croak with the flaps of my stummick glued together, and eating each other, than go two days without water. Any common death's heasy to 'alf-dyin' of thirst."
Smith grunted again.
"That's what I says," said the Baker. "I know'd you agree. And now, do you reelly think as we can foot it back two 'undred mile to New Find with that lot of water, our two bags full?"
"No, I don't," said Smith; "when the horses went that chance went. How much tucker is left?"
"Ten days, I should think," replied the Baker.
"Then we'll go down the creek to-morrow if you like," said Smith. "But it's all risky, and we may get done starved or speared."
"I'll go," said the Baker, and they went to sleep.
In the morning they divided up the stores, and stowed them as well as they could in their blankets. They were in the "wallaby" track by six o'clock.
"Travellers looking for a job," said the Baker. "Can we see the boss, and if not, can we put our horses in the paddock and grub at the men's 'ut? What's your trade, Smith, when you tike to the bush and go for a job?"
"Cattle," answered Smith gloomily, for now he was getting downcast. It hurt him bitterly not to find Herder's reef, for he had got it into his mind that this journey was his luck, and whatever misfortunes overtook him, yet there would be gold in it after all. And gold meant England, and England meant what it can mean to a man who has lived there long and has then gone into the desert.