ndy Blight

I'd been humping my back, and crouching and groaning for an hour or so
in the darkest corner of the travellers' hut, tortured by the demon
of sandy blight. It was too hot to travel, and there was no one there
except ourselves and Mitchell's cattle pup. We were waiting till after
sundown, for I couldn't have travelled in the daylight, anyway. Mitchell
had tied a wet towel round my eyes, and led me for the last mile or two
by another towel--one end fastened to his belt behind, and the other in
my hand as I walked in his tracks. And oh! but this was a relief! It was
out of the dust and glare, and the flies didn't come into the dark hut,
and I could hump and stick my knees in my eyes and groan in comfort. I
didn't want a thousand a year, or anything; I only wanted relief for my
eyes--that was all I prayed for in this world. When the sun got down a
bit, Mitchell started poking round, and presently he found amongst the
rubbish a dirty-looking medicine bottle, corked tight; when he rubbed
the dirt off a piece of notepaper that was pasted on, he saw "eye-water"
written on it. He drew the cork with his teeth, smelt the water, stuck
his little finger in, turned the bottle upside down, tasted the top of
his finger, and reckoned the stuff was all right.

"Here! Wake up, Joe!" he shouted. "Here's a bottle of tears."

"A bottler wot?" I groaned.

"Eye-water," said Mitchell.

"Are you sure it's all right?" I didn't want to be poisoned or have my
eyes burnt out by mistake; perhaps some burning acid had got into
that bottle, or the label had been put on, or left on, in mistake or
carelessness.

"I dunno," said Mitchell, "but there's no harm in tryin'."

I chanced it. I lay down on my back in a bunk, and Mitchell dragged my
lids up and spilt half a bottle of eye-water over my eye-balls.

The relief was almost instantaneous. I never experienced such a quick
cure in my life. I carried the bottle in my swag for a long time
afterwards, with an idea of getting it analysed, but left it behind at
last in a camp.

Mitchell scratched his head thoughtfully, and watched me for a while.

"I think I'll wait a bit longer," he said at last, "and if it doesn't
blind you I'll put some in my eyes. I'm getting a touch of blight myself
now. That's the fault of travelling with a mate who's always catching
something that's no good to him."

As it grew dark outside we talked of sandy-blight and fly-bite, and
sand-flies up north, and