“More disasters this morning. One of our largest camels very ill; the only thing we could do for it was to pound four boxes of Holloway’s pills, and drench the animal. . . . One of the Afghans apparently wrong in his head. . . . In the evening the camel was still very sick.” The animal, however, was better on the following day, and the expedition again toiled onward across the sands. Very troublesome were the ants, which seemed to have undertaken a deliberate campaign against the much-suffering travellers. They were small black ants, and in such numbers that a stamp of the foot on the ground started them in thousands. When the wearied men flung themselves down in the shade of a bush to obtain the solace of half an hour’s sleep, these pestilent persecutors attacked them, making their way through their scanty clothing, and dealing sharp painful nips with their strong mandibles. On the evening of the 1st of November, they began their “rush” or forced march for the Oakover river, and across the wearisome sand-hills actually accomplished five and twenty miles. Colonel Warburton then felt unable to continue the journey, thirst, famine, and fatigue having reduced him to a skeleton, while such was his weakness that he could scarcely rise from the ground, or when up, stagger half a dozen steps forward. “Charley” had been absent all day, and when he did not return at sunset, much alarm was felt about him. The Colonel knew not what to do. Delay meant ruin to them all, considering their want of food and water; yet to leave the camp without the Colonel seemed inhuman, as it was dooming him to certain death. Until nine o’clock in the evening they waited. Then a start was made, but before they had gone eight miles, the poor lad joined them. Notwithstanding the fatigue of the previous night’s travelling, the lad had actually walked about twenty miles; he had fallen in with a large party of natives, and accompanied them to their water. “It may, I think, be admitted,” says Colonel Warburton, “that the hand of Providence was distinctly visible in this instance.”—Is it not in _every_ instance?—“I had deferred starting until nine p.m., to give the absent boy the chance of regaining the camp. It turned out afterwards that if we had expedited our departure by ten minutes, or postponed it for the same length of time, Charley would have crossed us; and had this happened, there is little doubt that not only myself, but probably other members of the expedition, would have perished from thirst. The route pursued by us was at right angles with the course pursued by the boy, and the chances of our stumbling up against each other in the dark were infinitesimally small. Providence mercifully ordered it otherwise, and our departure was so timed that, after travelling from two to two hours and a half, when all hope of the recovery of the wanderer was almost abandoned, I was gladdened by the ‘cooee’ of the brave lad, whose keen