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 
