VII 
DROUGHT 
89 
came to the banks of a weary, shrunken river. The 
water was muddy and brackish, and had to be well 
boiled before we filled our water-bags. We passed a 
camp of natives who had directed us to this spot, not 
by any means an enticing set of human beings, with 
legs like compasses, and intentions evidently inhospitable. 
They had not an article of clothing covering their bodies, 
and were armed with spears and nulla-nullas. They 
were evidently out on a foraging expedition, hunting for 
deep-boring grubs, wild honey, and roots. No women 
were with them. As a rule, they spend the summer 
in the forest lands, and make their way up here in 
the winter, where, on the high ground, they hide their 
women and children and live in the caves of the 
rocks. 
The country is all dotted with huge boulders of 
granite, with outcrops here and there of quartz : evidences 
of the terribly dry season were very apparent ; the hidden 
watercourses had sunk, leaving hard, cracked fissures 
behind, where fish had buried themselves deep in the 
mud, and just here and there between the holes only a 
trickle of water was to be seen. The dry bark cracked 
and peeled from the trees, as the hot wind swept through 
them, withered leaves strewed the ground, moss peeled 
off the rocks, buds were killed before they had blossomed, 
and dried-up petals fell in showers each time a breath 
of wind stirred. Nothing remained of juicy creepers but 
a heap of withered arms clasping the trees. Here and 
there, at their feet, beasts too weak to force their way to 
fresh hunting grounds lay dead ; the triumphant power 
of the sun had ruthlessly held his destructive sway 
over everything, and there was an unutterable look of 
desolation about the whole scene. 
We pitched our tents beside a solitary acacia tree ; 
its yellow blossoms had alone defied the fiery despot, 
