Her little mite of a calf
had to be killed. We milked the mother as well as we could while she
was lying down, and we fed and watered her--at least we offered her
food and water, but she was in too great pain to eat. Camel calves
are, in proportion to their mothers, the most diminutive but pretty
little objects imaginable. I delayed here an additional day on the
poor creature's account, but all our efforts to raise her proved
unsuccessful. I could not leave the poor dumb brute on the ground to
die by inches slowly, by famine, and alone, so I in mercy shot her
just before we left the place, and left her dead alongside the progeny
that she had brought to life in such a wilderness, only at the expense
of her own. She had been Mr. Tietkens's hack, and one of our best
riding camels. We had now little over forty miles to go to reach the
dam, and as all our water had been consumed, and the vessels were
empty, the loads now were light enough. On the 3rd of September we
arrived, and were delighted to find that not only had the dam been
replenished, but it was full to overflowing. A little water was
actually visible in the lake-bed alongside of it, at the southern end,
but it was unfit for drinking.
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