It was very probable we should get no water, as none is known to exist
where we should touch upon its shores. Thus we were, after coming 120
miles from Wynbring, still nearly 200 miles from the Finniss Springs,
the nearest water that I knew. It was now a matter of life and death;
could we reach the Finniss at all? We could neither remain here, nor
should we survive if we attempted to retreat; to advance was our only
chance of escape from the howling waste in which we were almost
entombed; we therefore moved onwards, as fast and as far as we could.
On the following morning, before dawn, I had been lying wakefully
listening for the different sounds of the bells on the animals' necks,
and got up to brighten up the camp fire with fresh wood, when the
strange sound of the quacking of a wild duck smote upon my ear. The
blaze of firelight had evidently attracted the creature, which
probably thought it was the flashing of water, as it flew down close
to my face, and almost precipitated itself into the flames; but
discovering its error, it wheeled away upon its unimpeded wings, and
left me wondering why this denizen of the air and water, should be
sojourning around the waterless encampment of such hapless travellers
as we.
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