ot to pick up
the trail and follow it back. There, you go that way and I'll go this.
It can't be far away."

"No, of course not," cried Ned, urging his pony forward in the direction
indicated, while Chris started in the other, keeping close to the
water's edge, where the sand was firm.

But the mule was not going to be left alone, and followed Chris's mount.
Not for far. Within a hundred yards there were the hoof-prints of the
animals, going straight into the shallow lake on one side and on the
other leading straight away over the sandy plain, which here came right
up to the water's edge.

"_Coo-ee_!" shouted Chris, and Ned came cantering back.

"Found the trail?" he cried.

"Yes, here it is, with the mule leading. That's where he walked right
into the lake. And we've been abusing mules and calling them names ever
since I can remember. Ned, I'll never be a brute to a mule again. Will
you lead?"

"No. You found the trail. Go on, and I'll come last. As fast as you
can."

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

DESPERATE STRAITS.

Chris uttered a wild whoop of delight.

"Water! Water! Water!" he shouted. "Here we come!"

The announcement was intended for those he had left at the camp, but the
words seemed to be lost in the immensity of space. But he did not heed
this, only pressed on, to halt at the end of a hundred yards for the
others to come up. His pony had lowered its head as if recognising the
track and started off at a canter; but Chris realised directly that the
progress did not depend upon him but the mule, which at starting refused
to go in advance of Ned, and stubbornly stood still, and no urging would
make it move.

"Come on first, Ned," shouted Chris, as the efforts of his companion
proved to be in vain.

"Oh, he is a brute!" cried Ned, but he did as he was ordered, following
his leader, and the mule, heavily-laden as it was, lowered its head and
began to lounge along last at the regular mule pace.

"Oh, but this won't do," cried Chris, as they came up. "I never thought
of it when we were filling the barrels. It'll take no end of time to
get back like this."

He led on again in silence, seeing the trail marked plainly enough, and
wonderfully straight, the animals having pretty well always stepped in
their leader's tracks. But at the end of a few minutes' advance at a
walk he turned his head to shout back--

"Oh, Ned, Ned, what shall we do? Everything, you see, depends on this
mule, a