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Page 26
Our knives, a few sundries, such as a compass, matches, a pocket
filter, tobacco, a trowel, a bottle of brandy, and the clothes we
stood in.
This was our total equipment, a small one indeed for such a venture,
but we dared not attempt to carry more. Indeed, that load was a heavy
one per man with which to travel across the burning desert, for in
such places every additional ounce tells. But we could not see our way
to reducing the weight. There was nothing taken but what was
absolutely necessary.
With great difficulty, and by the promise of a present of a good
hunting-knife each, I succeeded in persuading three wretched natives
from the village to come with us for the first stage, twenty miles,
and to carry a large gourd holding a gallon of water apiece. My object
was to enable us to refill our water-bottles after the first night's
march, for we determined to start in the cool of the evening. I gave
out to these natives that we were going to shoot ostriches, with which
the desert abounded. They jabbered and shrugged their shoulders,
saying that we were mad and should perish of thirst, which I must say
seemed probable; but being desirous of obtaining the knives, which
were almost unknown treasures up there, they consented to come, having
probably reflected that, after all, our subsequent extinction would be
no affair of theirs.
All next day we rested and slept, and at sunset ate a hearty meal of
fresh beef washed down with tea, the last, as Good remarked sadly, we
were likely to drink for many a long day. Then, having made our final
preparations, we lay down and waited for the moon to rise. At last,
about nine o'clock, up she came in all her glory, flooding the wild
country with light, and throwing a silver sheen on the expanse of
rolling desert before us, which looked as solemn and quiet and as
alien to man as the star-studded firmament above. We rose up, and in a
few minutes were ready, and yet we hesitated a little, as human nature
is prone to hesitate on the threshold of an irrevocable step. We three
white men stood by ourselves. Umbopa, assegai in hand and a rifle
across his shoulders, looked out fixedly across the desert a few paces
ahead of us; while the hired natives, with the gourds of water, and
Ventv�gel, were gathered in a little knot behind.
"Gentlemen," said Sir Henry presently, in his deep voice, "we are
going on about as strange a journey as men can make in this world. It
is very doubtful if we can succeed in it. But we are three men who
will stand together for good or for evil to the last. Now before we
start let us for a moment pray to the Power who shapes the destinies
of men, and who ages since has marked out our paths, that it may
please Him to direct our steps in accordance with His will."
Taking off his hat, for the space of a minute or so, he covered his
face with his hands, and Good and I did likewise.
I do not say that I am a first-rate praying man, few hunters are, and
as for Sir Henry, I never heard him speak like that before, and only
once since, though deep down in his heart I believe that he is very
religious. Good too is pious, though apt to swear. Anyhow I do not
remember, excepting on one single occasion, ever putting up a better
prayer in my life than I did during that minute, and somehow I felt
the happier for it. Our future was so completely unknown, and I think
that the unknown and the awful always bring a man nearer to his Maker.
"And now," said Sir Henry, "/trek/!"
So we started.
We had nothing to guide ourselves by except the distant mountains and
old Jos� 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.
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