We were both equally horrified at
Gibson's mischance. When we woke Jimmy up he was delighted to see me,
but when told about Gibson, he said something about he knowed he
worn't no good in the bush, but as long as I had returned, etc., etc.
I told them both just what had occurred out there; how Gibson and I
had parted company, and we could only conclude that he must be dead,
or he would long before have returned. The mare certainly would have
carried him to the Circus, and then he must have reached the depot;
but it was evident that he had gone wrong, had lost himself, and must
now be dead. I was too much exhausted and too prostrate to move from
the camp to search for him to-day, but determined to start to-morrow.
Mr. Tietkens got everything ready, while I remained in a state of
semi-stupor. I was cramped with pains in all my joints, pains in the
stomach, and violent headaches, the natural result of having a
long-empty stomach suddenly filled. Gibson's loss and my struggles
formed the topic of conversation for most of the day, and it naturally
shed a gloom over our spirits. Here we were, isolated from
civilisation, out of humanity's reach, hundreds of miles away from our
fellow creatures, and one of our small party had gone from us.
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