Once down from the big dune, and naturally the pan was lost sight of, but we were not taking any more chances, and worked by compass. Terrible work it was too, for we found no obliging _straat_ leading in the right direction, but had to toil over ridge after ridge of extremely loose, bare sand, which, as the day advanced, became so hot that the hand could scarcely be borne upon it. The dogs were now suffering greatly, for their paws were cracked and bleeding, and they were half dead with thirst. The few bushes that had afforded them occasional shelter got farther and farther apart as we entered country where apparently rain had never fallen. This was indeed desert, nothing but bare, scorching sand, with the blackened stumps of the dead _toa_ grass, and here and there a shrivelled salt-bush, alone showing that vegetation had ever existed there. By noon we were in an extremely bad plight, our tongues and lips cracked and parched, and we were each sucking a small pebble to promote salivation. The dogs dug feebly into each tiny patch of shade from the far-apart bushes, and lay panting and whining until we were almost out of sight over the next dune, when, howling with pain from their bleeding and burning feet, they would scuttle along after and past us, frantically looking for a little shade to lessen their torture. [Illustration: ON THIS GREAT SALT PAN, SOUTHERN KALAHARI. Dogs dying of thirst.] There seemed little hope of their getting through, and I wished to shoot the unfortunate animals, but Du Toit dissuaded me, saying that there was just a chance that we should find fresh water near the Salt Pan, for he had heard the Hottentots say that in the old days, when they were allowed access to it, they had pits dug in its margin, where they got good fresh water quite near to the salt. He said he hoped also to find traces of the old waggon-road, which would help us get our bearings properly. Still we could obtain no further glimpse of the pan, for the dunes were all of the same dead level; moreover the mirage was now dancing all round the circumscribed horizon, which ended in every direction in shimmering sheets of water, in which clouds, dunes, and occasionally gemsbok and animals were mirrored to perfection. Our feet were blistered and bleeding, and van Reenen was rapidly getting lame, but we dared not rest; moreover there was no shade, and to sit or lie on the burning sand was worse torture than staggering on.