a few seconds only. We were at a bare rock, and had the rain lasted
with the same force for only a minute, we could have given our horses
a drink upon the spot, but as it was we got none. The horses ran all
about licking the rock with their parched tongues.

Late at night we reached our old encampment, where we had got water in
the sandy bed of the creek. It was now no longer here, and we had to
go further up. I went on ahead to look for a spot, and returning, met
the horses in hobbles going up the creek, some right in the bed. I
intended to have dug a tank for them, but the others let them go too
soon. I consoled myself by thinking that they had only to go far
enough, and they would get water on the surface. With the exception of
the one bucket each, this was their fourth night without water. The
sky was now as black as pitch; it thundered and lightened, and there
was every appearance of a fall of rain, but only a light mist or heavy
dew fell for an hour or two; it was so light and the temperature so
hot that we all lay without a rag on till morning.

At earliest dawn Mr. Tietkens and I took the shovel and walked to
where we heard the horsebells. Twelve of the poor animals were lying
in the bed of the creek, with limbs stretched out as if dead, but we
were truly glad to find they were still alive, though some of them
could not get up. Some that were standing up were working away with
their hobbled feet the best way they could, stamping out the sand
trying to dig out little tanks, and one old stager had actually
reached the water in his tank, so we drove him away and dug out a
proper place. We got all the horses watered by nine o'clock. It was
four a.m. when we began to dig, and our exercise gave us an excellent
appetite for our breakfast. Gibson built a small bough gunyah, under
which we sat, with the thermometer at 102 degrees.