in the air till it became a vast black moving column, making a
strange rustling noise as it approached. Then it left the direct road,
and rushed along near them, rising higher and higher in the air, and
becoming less and less dense, till its base completely disappeared, and
the column spent itself in a fine streak of sand some hundred feet or
more above their heads.

"A pleasant escape," said Mr Oliphant; "we shouldn't have gained either
in good looks or comfort if we had got into the thick of it."

"I should think not indeed," said Frank. "Do people often get into
these whirlwinds, or earth-spouts, or whatever they should be called?"

"Sometimes they do," said the other, "and then the results are anything
but agreeable. I have seen men go into them white--white jacket, white
waistcoat, white trousers, white hat, and come out one universal brown--
brown jacket, waistcoat, trousers, hat, eyebrows, whiskers, all brown."

"Anything but pleasant indeed," said Hubert. "But do they ever do
serious mischief?"

"Not very serious, as far as I know," replied his uncle. "Once I knew
of a pastry-cook's man who was caught in one of these whirlwinds; he had
a tray of tarts on his head, and the wind caught the tray, and whirled
it off, tarts and all. But here we are at the `Half-way house;' people
commonly can't go many miles here without the drink. They fancy that,
because we live in a country which is very hot in summer, we want more
to drink; but it's just the reverse. Drink very little of anything in
the specially hot days, and you'll not feel the want of it."

And now, after a further drive of three or four miles, the outskirts of
the city of Adelaide were nearly reached, and the distant hills became
more plainly visible.

"We shall cross the river by the ford at the back of the jail," said Mr
Oliphant, "for there's very little water in the river now."

"And is this the river Torrens?" asked Hubert, with a slight tone of
incredulity in his voice.

"You may well ask," replied his uncle, laughing. "Torrens is certainly
an unfortunate name, for it leads a stranger naturally to look for a
deep and impetuous stream. Some gentleman from Melbourne, when he first
saw it, was highly incensed and disgusted, and exclaimed, `Is this
_crack in the earth_ your river Torrens?'"

"But I suppose," inquired Frank, "it is not always as shallow as now?"

"No indeed," said the other; "I've seen it many a time a real Torrens.
Whe