And just before sundown they came on the ashes of another fire by the creek. This time Smith spotted them first, and he thrust his hand in to feel if they had more warmth than the day's burning sun could give them. But they were cold.
Smith sat down on a fallen tree, and contemplated the ashes in silence. Once or twice he opened his mouth to speak, but he said nothing. The Baker brought up some water from the billabong, and made a little weak tea of the last tea they had, and part of that was leaves saved from two infusions. Then Smith spoke:
"I suppose we are the first white men that ever got so far in this direction," he said, "unless we are near Warburton's track when he crossed the continent in 'seventy-three. We'll call it Mandeville Land if we ever get back."
The Baker smiled faintly, and lighted a little fire.
"Not too big," said Smith; "we want to see the blacks first, and then we'll have a chance."
And after the tea they lay down.
"No further to-day," said Smith, and Mandeville undid his swag for him. And, presently, it was quite dark, and Mandeville fell unto an uneasy slumber. How long it lasted he could not say, but he was waked by hearing Smith talk. He turned over in alarm. But Smith presently broke into laughter. "Mandeville, you damn fool, wake up," he said.
"Yes," said the Baker, shaking.
"You're a fool; I'm a fool; but I see it now. I see it now!"
"See what, Smith?" asked the Baker, and Smith came over to him and knelt down.