frogs; but ants, oh ants, are frightful! Like Othello, I am perplexed
in the extreme--rain threatens every day, I don't like to go and I
can't stay. Over some hills Mr. Tietkens and I found an old rocky
native well, and worked for hours with shovel and levers, to shift
great boulders of rock, and on the 4th of December we finally left the
deceitful Shoeing Camp--never, I hope, to return. The new place was no
better; it was two and a half miles away, in a wretched, scrubby,
rocky, dry hole, and by moving some monstrous rocks, which left holes
where they formerly rested, some water drained in, so that by night
the horses were all satisfied. There was a hot, tropical, sultry
feeling in the atmosphere all day, though it was not actually so hot
as most days lately; some terrific lightnings occurred here on the
night of the 5th of December, but we heard no thunder. On the 6th and
7th Mr. Tietkens and I tried several places to the eastwards for
water, but without success. At three p.m. of the 7th, we had thunder
and lightning, but no rain; thermometer 106 degrees. On returning to
camp, we were told that the water was rapidly failing, it becoming
fine by degrees and beautifully less. At night the heavens were
illuminated for hours by the most wonderful lightnings; it was, I
suppose, too distant to permit the sound of thunder to be heard. On
the 8th we made sure that rain would fall, the night and morning were
very hot. We had clouds, thunder, lightning, thermometer 112 degrees
and every mortal disagreeable thing we wanted; so how could we expect
rain? but here, thanks to Moses, or Pharaoh, or Providence, or the
rocks, we were not troubled with ants. The next day we cleared out;
the water was gone, so we went also. The thermometer was 110 degrees
in the shade when we finally left these miserable hills. We steered
away again for Fort Mueller, via the Lightning Rock, which was
forty-five miles away. We traversed a country nearly all scrub,
passing some hills and searching channels and gullies as we went. We