288 MULE-HUNTING EXPEDITION. 



on it but a few sage-bushes and dwarfed junipers. 

 Every step the animals make is fetlock-deep ; and 

 dust, that nearly chokes and blinds us, comes 

 from every direction. On, and on, and on we 

 go, but no change, no hope of water. 



Just before dark when I begin to think I 

 have been guilty of an awful mistake, and 

 brought needless misery on both men and 

 animals I push ahead of the train, in hope of 

 finding water, for the guide is utterly lost. 

 Suddenly I descry the tracks of the prong-buck 

 in the sand ; hope revives, water must be near at 

 hand ! Carefully I follow on their tracks, that 

 lead down a sloping bank of scoria, and slags of 

 lava, through a narrow gorge, with rocks on 

 either side that look as if they had been burnt in 

 a limekiln to come out into a narrow valley, 

 where the sight of trees, grass, and water makes 

 my heart leap with delight. 



Back I spur to meet the lagging train, toiling 

 on, parched with thirst, blinded with dust; hun- 

 gry, weary, and exhausted. I guide them to the 

 valley, and at the sight of water, men and mules 

 seem to gain new life, rush wildly towards it, 

 plunge in, and drink as only the thirst-famished 

 can. Unsaddle and let the mules feed for two 

 hours, then light five fires, and keep them closely 



