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"And now," said Sir Henry, "/trek/!"

So we started.

We had nothing to guide ourselves by except the distant mountains and
old Jose da Silvestre's chart, which, considering that it was drawn by
a dying and half-distraught man on a fragment of linen three centuries
ago, was not a very satisfactory sort of thing with work with. Still,
our sole hope of success depended upon it, such as it was. If we
failed in finding that pool of bad water which the old Dom marked as
being situated in the middle of the desert, about sixty miles from our
starting-point, and as far from the mountains, in all probability we
must perish miserably of thirst. But to my mind the chances of our
finding it in that great sea of sand and karoo scrub seemed almost
infinitesimal. Even supposing that da Silvestra had marked the pool
correctly, what was there to prevent its having been dried up by the
sun generations ago, or trampled in by game, or filled with the
drifting sand?

On we tramped silently as shades through the night and in the heavy
sand. The karoo bushes caught our feet and retarded us, and the sand
worked into our veldtschoons and Good's shooting-boots, so that every
few miles we had to stop and empty them; but still the night kept
fairly cool, though the atmosphere was thick and heavy, giving a sort
of creamy feel to the air, and we made fair progress. It was very
silent and lonely there in the desert, oppressively so indeed. Good
felt this, and once began to whistle "The Girl I left behind me," but
the notes sounded lugubrious in that vast place, and he gave it up.

Shortly afterwards a little incident occurred which, though it
startled us at the time, gave rise to a laugh. Good was leading, as
the holder of the compass, which, being a sailor, of course he
understood thoroughly, and we were toiling along in single file behind
him, when suddenly we heard the sound of an exclamation, and he
vanished. Next second there arose all around us a most extraordinary
hubbub, snorts, groans, and wild sounds of rushing feet. In the faint
light, too, we could descry dim galloping forms half hidden by wreaths
of sand. The natives threw down their loads and prepared to bolt, but
remembering that there was nowhere to run to, they cast themselves
upon the ground and howled out that it was ghosts. As for Sir Henry
and myself, we stood amazed; nor was our amazement lessened when we
perceived the form of Good careering off in the direction of the
mountains, apparently mounted on the back of a horse and halloaing
wildly. In another second he threw up his arms, and we heard him come
to the earth with a thud.

Then I saw what had happened; we had stumbled upon a herd of sleeping
quagga, on to the back of one of which Good actually had fallen, and
the brute naturally enough got up and made off with him. Calling out
to the others that it was all right, I ran towards Good, much afraid
lest he should be hurt, but to my great relief I found him sitting in

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