ng," said he, "but
maybe we can save the others, though they cannot carry us. We must eat,
drink, and sleep, for the way is long and we are weak. And now, master,
if all the tobacco is not there under the big dune with the other
packs, I will smoke, for I have missed my tobacco sadly."

How he enjoyed himself, this lighthearted philosopher of the desert!
Long steaks of tender gemsbok he cut and grilled on the wood ashes of
the tiny fire, treating in a like manner the juicy udders after he had
squeezed out most of the milk. The water he would not touch, but his
appetite seemed unappeasable; steak after steak disappeared and still
he carved and cooked, smoking between whiles, and singing some never-
ending song of all the fine wives he would buy, and what he would do to
certain priests, if he got his "little gun" safe to his own country.
His cheery presence, and the reliance I placed in him cheered me
enormously, and I realized that I, too, was hungry. And so we ate, and
smoked, and slept, till nearly midnight; and then, keeping the Southern
Cross low down on the horizon on our right, we once more entered the
dunes.

The horse that Inyati had referred to was obviously dying, and a
merciful bullet put an end to the poor brute's sufferings. The others
trudged wearily after us, making but slow progress, but doing better
than I had conceived possible of animals that had not eaten or drank
for thirty-six hours. But morning found them dead beat; they stood
stock still as the sun rose, and neither coaxing nor flogging could get
the poor brutes a step farther. According to Inyati's reckoning we were
still four hours from the water, and it was obvious that once we left
them we could never hope to save them, for we could never bring back
enough water to keep them alive.

"There is but one thing," said Inyati, as he slipped their loads off.
"Water we cannot bring them, nor would it be in time, for once the sun
is hot they will die. But stay here, and I will search for a certain
thing. Nay, master," he continued, for I had made a gesture of dissent;
"this time I go not far. But here I see rain has fallen of late, and
though there is no t'samma, there may be another thing that will save
the horses."

"Then I will seek it with you, Inyati," I said, for I was determined
not to lose sight of him again.

"Better rest, master," he urged, "there will be no more sandstorms. And
there is still far to go."

But go I would, and so we le