“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 travelers 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 toward 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 the 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 XXVII.

As our travelers 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?”

“I am convinced that it will be the best plan, so let us rouse up the people at once.  There is the roar of a lion at some distance, and we have no fires to scare them off.”

“The creaking of the wagon-wheels will be better than nothing,” replied the Major.

The Hottentots were roused, and the orders given to yoke:  the poor fellows were all sound asleep; for a Hottentot, when he hungers or thirsts, seeks refuge from all his miseries in sleep.  The oxen were yoked, and they proceeded; but hardly had they gone a mile, when the roar of three or four lions, close upon them, caused such alarm to the horses and the oxen which were not yoked that they started off in full gallop in a northerly direction.