XV WHERE A MAN CAN RAISE A THIRST 151 
words had seemed to beat in a rhythm of pain with 
the tramp of our feet, and it was only by a supreme 
effort of will that we had forced ourselves along, 
every step a torturing tax on our flagging energies. 
And now we had to return ! We roughly computed 
that, in a direct line, we were about six hours’ 
journey from where my men were encamped, and 
knew that only by ceaseless, hard tramping could 
we hope to reach them before evening. The situa¬ 
tion was not one to ponder on at leisure ; there 
was nothing left to do but make a start, and that at 
once! 
About 2 o’clock in the afternoon, Malingum, my 
tracker, the lines of whose face were drawn with 
suffering, told me that he was completely exhausted 
and would rather stay where he was and run the 
risk of dying than go on any further in the sweltering 
heat, and Usufu, my boy, in a similar state of 
collapse, decided to throw in his lot with Malingum. 
My other tracker, Hyiah, and my cook seemed in 
better fettle, so leaving the latter to take care of the 
‘played outs,’ and depositing all our ammunition, 
save twenty cartridges each, in his charge, Hyiah and 
I resumed our heart-breaking journey, bidding the 
three be of good cheer until we returned with water. 
On we foot-slogged—there is no other word for it— 
making a bee-line for our camp, and taking care to 
blaze the trees as we went, so that we should lose no 
