He then said if he had a compass he thought he could go better at night.  I knew he didn’t understand anything about compasses, as I had often tried to explain them to him.  The one I had was a Gregory’s Patent, of a totally different construction from ordinary instruments of the kind, and I was very loth to part with it, as it was the only one I had.  However, he was so anxious for it that I gave it him, and he departed.  I sent one final shout after him to stick to the tracks, to which he replied, “All right,” and the mare carried him out of sight almost immediately.  That was the last ever seen of Gibson.

I walked slowly on, and the further I walked the more thirsty I became.  I had thirty miles to go to reach the Kegs, which I could not reach until late to-morrow at the rate I was travelling, and I did not feel sure that I could keep on at that.  The afternoon was very hot.  I continued following the tracks until the moon went down, and then had to stop.  The night was reasonably cool, but I was parched and choking for water.  How I longed again for morning!  I hoped Gibson had reached the Kegs, and that he and the mare were all right.  I could not sleep for thirst, although towards morning it became almost cold.  How I wished this planet would for once accelerate its movements and turn upon its axis in twelve instead of twenty-four hours, or rather that it would complete its revolution in six hours.

April 24th to 1st may.

(Illustration:  Alone in the desert.)

So soon as it was light I was again upon the horse tracks, and reached the Kegs about the middle of the day.  Gibson had been here, and watered the mare, and gone on.  He had left me a little over two gallons of water in one keg, and it may be imagined how glad I was to get a drink.  I could have drunk my whole supply in half an hour, but was compelled to economy, for I could not tell how many days would elapse before assistance could come:  it could not be less than five, it might be many more.  After quenching my thirst a little I felt ravenously hungry, and on searching among the bags, all the food I could find was eleven sticks of dirty, sandy, smoked horse, averaging about an ounce and a half each, at the bottom of a pack-bag.  I was rather staggered to find that I had little more than a pound weight of meat to last me until assistance came.  However, I was compelled to eat some at once, and devoured two sticks raw, as I had no water to spare to boil them in.

After this I sat in what shade the trees afforded, and reflected on the precariousness of my position.  I was sixty miles from water, and eighty from food, my messenger could hardly return before six days, and I began to think it highly probable that I should be dead of hunger and thirst long before anybody could possibly arrive.  I looked at the keg; it was an awkward thing to carry empty.  There was nothing