I did not trouble myself much about the dingos, as I felt pretty sure they would not attack human beings, and I very soon followed Mudge’s advice.
I cannot say, when I awoke in the morning, that I felt as rested as I could have wished. My mouth was as dry as a dust-hole, and the sensations in my throat were very distressing. However, I managed to get on my feet; and the moment there was sufficient daylight to enable us to see our way, we recommenced our descent.
As I walked on,—or I may say, stumbled on,—Mudge still insisting on carrying my knapsack, we eagerly looked about for water; but though we saw shrubs and even trees, not the most tiny streamlet could we discover. I felt sure that I could not put anything into my mouth until I had taken some liquid to moisten my parched throat; and Mudge confessed that he felt much as I did, though his strength was less impaired than mine. We had passed a number of trees, which we examined eagerly in the hope of finding some juicy fruit, but in vain.
“What would I not give for a handful of strawberries or figs!” I could not help exclaiming.
“I shouldn’t object to a dozen ripe pears or apples,” said Mudge; “but none of these trees are likely to afford us what we want.”
We were thus trying to keep up our spirits, for it was a hard matter to do so, when my eye fell on a curiously-shaped tree. Growing on it was what at first I thought was fruit, though of a remarkable form. Making our way towards it, we discovered that what we took to be fruit were in reality leaf-formed cups, some with lids, others open; and our joy can be imagined when, on taking hold of one of them, some clear liquid ran over the rim. I did not stop to consider whether it was real water; but immediately putting the cup to my lips, I drained it to the bottom. How deliciously cool and refreshing it tasted!—no water from the fountain-head of the purest stream could have been more so—though it had a somewhat sweetish taste.
Mudge followed my example; and between us we had drunk the contents of several of these small cups, when he whispered, half to himself, “I wonder whether it is really water, or something poisonous!”
“I am very sure that it is wholesome,” I could not help answering; “it would be ungrateful in us to doubt it. Providence has placed a tree in this dry spot for the purpose of supplying man, and perhaps some of his other creatures, with the chief necessary of life.”
“Or perhaps it may be to nourish the tree,” observed Mudge.
“That may be true; and both objects, as is often God’s intention, are thus answered,” I remarked.