hue, and looked like a
garden.

"How strange that the ground should be covered with flowers where there
is no rain or water to be found," observed Alexander.

"It is the heavy dews of the night which support them," said Swinton,
"and perhaps the occasional rains which fall."

A line of trees to the southward told them that they were now
approaching an unnamed river, and the tired oxen quickened their pace;
but on their arrival they found that the bed of the river was dry, and
not even a drop of water was to be found in the pools. The poor
animals, which had been unyoked, snuffed and smelt at the wet, damp
earth, and licked it with their tongues, but could obtain no relief.
The water which they had had in the casks for their own drinking was now
all gone; and there were no hopes of obtaining any till they arrived at
the Vet River, at least twenty five to thirty miles distant. Two of the
oxen lay down to rise no more, the countenances of the Hottentots were
dejected and sullen, and our travellers felt that their situation was
alarming.

While they were still searching and digging for water, the sky became
overcast, thunder and lightning were seen and heard in the distance, and
the clouds came rolling in volumes towards them. Hope was now in every
face; they already anticipated the copious showers which were to
succeed; their eyes ever fixed upon the coming storm; even the cattle
appeared to be conscious that relief was at hand. All that day the
clouds continued to gather, and the lightning to gleam. Night closed
in, but the rain had not yet fallen; the wind rose up, and in less than
an hour all the clouds had passed away, the stars shone out brightly,
and they were left in a state of suffering and disappointment.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

As our travellers were sitting together, each occupied with his own
melancholy thoughts, after the dispersion of the clouds and the
anticipated relief, the Major said--

"It is useless our remaining here; we must all perish if we do not
proceed, and it would be better for us to yoke and travel by night; the
animals will bear the journey better, and the people will not be so
inclined to brood over their misfortunes when on the march as when thus
huddled together here, and communicating their lamentations to
dishearten each other. It is now nine o'clock; let us yoke and push on
as far as we can."

"I agree with you, Major," said Alexander; "what do you say, Swinton?"