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No explorer in recent years has crossed distant lands and seas without a kinematographic outfit. We suddenly looked into the most intimate life of the African wilderness. There the elephants and giraffes and monkeys passed to the waterhole, not knowing that the moving picture man was turning his crank in the top of a tree.
Saddling up on the other side, we had a journey of thirty miles to make before arriving at a waterhole, where we camped for the second night. I don't know what real nectar is, but that water was nectar to me, although the horses sniffed and at first refused to drink it.
Is it not obvious, however, that the news had been transmitted orally, and that the crude carvings on the stick merely indicated an attempt to give verisimilitude to the intelligence the wavy line indicating the creek, and the notch the fatal waterhole. If not, then a black's message-stick is a model of literary condensation, their characters marvels of comprehensiveness and exactitude.
These, as before described, were very thickly strewn making the journey tedious and severe on the horses, so that only 14 miles were accomplished, when they camped on a large waterhole five miles above the junction. Jardine shot a couple. 'September' 19. Still keeping along the bed of Parallel Creek, the party travelled up its course.
After we got some distance down the creek, it was decided to cross and strike to the southward, but we must have picked a bad place, for one of the camels got stuck in a quicksand at the end of a waterhole, and we could not get him out, although we worked hard for nearly twenty-four hours; so, as there was nothing else left for it, we shot him, cut off as much meat as we could carry, and, after drying it, started on again; but our load was so much heavier now that we had to travel very slowly, and the other camel was beginning to knock up.
Billy himself had pushed his cause as bravely as possible, and had in fact visited the Little Black Billabong, where he always maintains he had seen the great Bunyip. But after watching one night, they tried to push on to the Debil-debil Waterhole.
This is a yard made all round a waterhole with one opening; about this opening they will fasten, from stumps or logs, strong strings with a slipping knot. The game, emu or kangaroo, would probably step into one of these string nooses, would try to pull its leg out; the harder it pulled the tighter the knot.
Dick could almost have found it in his heart to pity him, as the despairing, cadaverous wretch at length gave up the hopeless search. Late that evening, as they approached the first waterhole, the wachtmeister pointed significantly to a saddled horse cropping quietly near by, whilst as they got nearer the pits, five or six big vultures flapped lazily away.
I believe she knew all about it, for she used to say, 'Dick pull Gracey out of water; and then she'd throw her arms round my neck and kiss me, and walk off to her mother. If I'd let her drown then, and tied a stone round my neck and dropped through the reeds to the bottom of the big waterhole, it would have been better for both of us.
They knew as well as he that they were returning to the waterhole. As the campers again sat down to their supper Isobel paused with the coffeepot upraised. "Genevieve," she inquired, "did you put cream on the list?" "Why, no, my dear. It did not occur to me." "Nor may it to Yuki. He will be sure to send eggs and butter, but unless he thinks to save tonight's cream I'll run and tell Kid."
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