highly probable that no water exists in a straight line between the two places.  Shortly before evening, Mr. Young was in advance steering, but he kept so close under the sun—­it being now so near the equinox, the sun set nearly west, and our course being 21 degrees south of west—­I had to go forward and tell him that he was not steering rightly.  Of course he became indignant, and saying, “Perhaps you’ll steer, then, if you don’t think I can!” he handed me the compass.  I took it in silence and steered more southerly, in the proper direction of our course; this led us over a long white ridge of sand, and brought us to the hollow where, as I said before, we had such a wretched encampment.  I mention this as a circumstance attaches to it.  The fate of empires at times has hung upon a thread, and our fate now hung upon my action.  We had come 323 miles without having seen a drop of water.  There was silence and melancholy in the camp; and was it to be wondered at if, in such a region and under such circumstances, there was:—­

   “A load on each spirit, a cloud o’er each soul,
    With eyes that could scan not, our destiny’s scroll.”

Every man seemed to turn his eyes on me.  I was the great centre of attraction; every action of mine was held to have some peculiar meaning.  I was continually asked night after night if we should get water the following day?  The reply, “How can I tell?” was insufficient; I was supposed to know to an inch where water was and exactly when we could reach it.  I believe all except the officers thought I was making for a known water, for although I had explained the situation before leaving the dam, it was only now that they were beginning to comprehend its full meaning.  Towards the line of dark sandhills, which formed the western horizon, was a great fall of country into a kind of hollow, and on the following morning, the seventeenth day from the dam, Mr. Tietkens appeared greatly impressed with the belief that we were in the neighbourhood of water.  I said nothing of my own impressions, for I thought something of the kind also, although I said I would not believe it.  It was Mr. Tietkens’s turn to steer, and he started on foot ahead of the string of camels for that purpose.  He gave Tommy his little riding-bull, the best leading camel we have, and told him to go on top of a white sandhill to our left, a little south of us, and try if he could find any fresh blacks’ tracks, or other indications of water.  I did not know that Tommy had gone, nor could I see that Tietkens was walking—­it was an extraordinary event when the whole string of camels could be seen at once in a line in this country—­and we had been travelling some two miles and a half when Alec Ross and Peter Nicholls declared that they heard Tommy calling out “water!” I never will believe these things until they are proved, so I kept the party still going on.  However, even I, soon ceased to doubt, for Tommy came rushing through the scrubs