Godfrey had taken a rather handy-looking tomahawk from the buck, made from the half of a horseshoe, one point of which was ground to a pretty sharp edge—­a primitive weapon, but distinctly serviceable.  Unlike our friend at Family Well, this man had not even a shell to wear, and beyond an unpleasantly scented mixture of fat and ashes, with which he was smeared, was hampered by no sort of clothing whatever.  As usual, he was scarred on the chest and forehead, and wore his hair in a mop, held back by a band of string.  His teeth were a picture, not only clean and white, which is usual, but uncommonly small and sharp, as one of us found!  Leaving him to the main party to take on to the well, I and Warri remained behind to bring Misery on—­and a nice job we had too.  I thought of waiting and packing water back to him, but in that case he would have fallen an easy victim to the natives, who were bound to be prowling about, nor could one of us be spared to watch him.  So he had to be beaten and hauled and dragged, by stages of twenty yards at a time, over the ridges.  After darkness fell we had to follow the tracks with a firestick until we had the fire at camp to guide us.  This we reached about 9.30 p.m., fairly tired out, but satisfied that the poor, patient sufferer’s life was saved.  The others had already started work on the well, but knocked off when I got back, and we had a good feed and a short rest.  Sir John was much distressed at his party having taken away all their food when they retreated, and was hardly consoled by what we gave him.  Tethered to a ti-tree, with a little fire to cheer him, he was apparently happy enough.

The rest of the night we worked at the well in shifts, and Charlie and I, the first shift, started off soon after daybreak with the buck to find more water, for it was evident that our present supply was insufficient.  We felt pretty certain from the way the tribe had left that another well existed close by; the question was, would our captive show it?  He started in great glee and at a great pace, carrying behind him, like a “back-board,” a light stick.  This will be found to open the lungs and make a long walk less fatiguing, except for the strain on the arms.  Occasionally he would stop and bind strips of bark round his ankles and below the knee.  “Gabbi” was just over the next ridge, he assured us by signs—­it was always “the next ridge”—­until when nearly ten miles from camp we saw a smoke rise ahead of us, but so far away that we could do no good by going on.  However, we had gained something by locating a fresh camp, so started homewards, the buck becoming most obstreperous when he saw our change of plan, for he made it clear by signs that the gins (indicating their breasts by covering his own with his hands) and the blind man (pointing to his own closed eyes and making a crooked track in the sand) and the rest, had circled round and gone to the camp from which we could see the smoke rising.  However, he could not escape and soon gave in, and followed reluctantly behind, dragging at the rope.