I trusted all this to them, requesting
them, however, to hold out here as long as possible, as, if I returned
unsuccessful from the west, my camels might be unable to go any
farther.
I was sure that the region to the west was not likely to prove a
Garden of Eden, and I thought it was not improbable that I might have
to go 200 miles before I found any water. If unsuccessful in that way
I should have precisely the same distance to come back again;
therefore, with the probabilities of such a journey before me, I
determined to carry out two casks of water to ninety or a hundred
miles, send some of the camels back from that point and push on with
the remainder. I took six excellent camels, three for riding and three
for carrying loads--two carrying thirty gallons of water each, and the
third provisions, rugs, gear, etc. I took Saleh, my only Afghan
camel-man--usually they are called camel-drivers, but that is a
misnomer, as all camels except riding ones must be led--and young Alec
Ross; Saleh was to return with the camels from the place at which I
should plant the casks, and Alec and I were to go on. The northern
party left on the same day, leaving Peter Nicholls, my cook, and Tommy
the black boy, to look after the camels and camp.
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