, as these animals seldom wander far from
their masters. We did not however see any natives, and continued our
route unmolested.

My wound began by degrees to get very stiff and painful, and I was
moreover excessively weak and faint from loss of blood; indeed I grew so
dizzy that I could scarcely see, and neither of the others were capable
of leading the party back to the tents; yet I was afraid to halt and rest
for I imagined that if I allowed my wound to grow cold and benumbed I
should then be unable to move; leaning therefore on Coles's arm, I walked
on as rapidly as I could, directing the men which way to go.

MISTAKE OF THE ROUTE.

Unfortunately however we lost our track and, after walking for nearly two
hours, I found that we were far from the encampment, whilst my sight and
strength were momentarily failing. Under these circumstances I told Coles
to walk in a direction which I gave him, and which led directly across
the beaten track of the party; having reached which he could easily make
out the encampment, and, leaning on his arm more heavily than before, we
again moved on.

INABILITY TO PROCEED.

Having reached the track of the party and turned southward to follow it I
still pushed on until we were within two miles of the tent, when, as I
tried to cross a stream, I strained my wounded hip severely, just reached
the opposite shore, and fell utterly unable to rise again. Coles, with
his usual courage and devotion to me, volunteered to go on alone to the
party and send assistance; the other man was to remain with me and keep a
lookout for the natives, and, had they again attacked us, I should still
have had strength enough to have shot two of them, and thus have sold my
life dearly. I desired Coles to say that a tent, stores, the surgeon, and
two men were to be sent to me, for that I was not well enough to be
moved.

REFLECTIONS.

The water of the stream revived me considerably. My wound however was
very painful, and the interim between Corporal Coles leaving me, and
assistance arriving from the tent was spent in meditations, arising
naturally from my present circumstances. I sat upon the rocky edge of a
cool clear brook, supported by a small tree. The sun shone out brightly,
the dark forest was alive with birds and insects. On such scenery I had
loved to meditate when a boy, but now how changed I was; wounded,
fatigued, and wandering in an unknown land. In momentary expectation of
being attacked my finge