white
boys weak, and as they had already stinted themselves of water for the
last day and a half, they were in no condition to meet this new
calamity.

Gradually the sun exerted its old sway over the earth, and the boys
were obliged to seek some shade. They helped Yarloo rebuild the old
shelter, and sat down under it, with their only possessions--one
pannikin, one badly torn camp-sheet, and an empty canteen. Everything
else had been blown away or absolutely spoilt.

Towards the middle of the afternoon, when, nearly sixty miles to the
west of them, Mick was drawing near Sidcotinga Station, Yarloo went out
from the shelter for a few minutes. He had been very thoughtful for
the last hour, and had evidently just made up his mind on some
important matter. When he returned he was carrying his quart-pot,
which was a little more than a quarter full of tea. The boy had jammed
the pannikin lid on tight that morning and had hidden it in the sand,
and the storm had not done it any harm. He showed the tea to his
companions, but did not give the pot into their eager hands till he had
explained what he intended to do.

"Me go 'way," he said.

The white boys did not pay any attention to this remark. Here was
something to drink, and they were parched with thirst.

"Me go 'way," repeated Yarloo. "Me come back by'm bye.... P'raps me
find um water ... p'raps me find um parakelia."

His companions did not reply. What did it matter? Why this "perhaps,
perhaps" when here was the certainty of at least a mouthful of tea for
each? But Yarloo waited for a moment or two, and then went on
patiently:

"Me come back to-morrow 'bout same time.... White boy stay here ... no
go 'way. No go 'way, mind.... Sax," he said timidly, using the name
for the first time, "Sax, you no go 'way, eh?"

"No. No. Of course we won't go away, Yarloo," was the impatient
answer. "But how long are you going to keep hold of that quart-pot?"

"Me come back to-morrow 'bout same time," said Yarloo slowly. "S'pose
me give it quart-pot, you no drink um till to-morrow sunrise? ...
to-morrow sunrise, eh?"

His meaning was perfectly clear. He was going to leave them the tea on
condition that they didn't touch it till sunrise next day. The boys
became angry at what they considered a foolish idea.

"What's the good of that to us?" asked Vaughan hastily.

"Yes," agreed Sax. "Whatever's the good of such a fool idea? ...
Besides, you've got no right