Leaving the wagon to go forward, and retaining with them three of the freshest horses, some food, and full water-bottles, Mr. Blakeney, Guy, and Mangwalaan stayed behind at the fire waiting for the return of Tom. Poeskop had now to accompany the wagon and show the way to water. Dawn came round, but still Tom tarried. Mr. Blakeney began now to betray some anxiety. He knew that his boy had no water with him, and he knew that two days and nights of thirst in such a veldt constituted a very real danger. They cantered back to their camp of the previous morning and took the spoor of the three hunters, hoping in that way to trace the wanderings of the lost lad. Mangwalaan was a splendid tracker, as good almost as Poeskop himself; but even to Mangwalaan that inhospitable wilderness refused to yield up its secret. Troops of eland and gemsbuck had wandered about the country meanwhile, obliterating all traces of the hunter’s devious wanderings; and after searching throughout the long and hot day, the three camped out in that desolate wilderness, dead tired, disheartened, and, in the case of two of them, with the foreboding of some nameless calamity weighing upon their spirits. They lit a fire, and almost in silence ate some food and drank a portion of the little lime juice and water that remained to them. Then Guy dozed off--he could keep awake no longer--and he and Mangwalaan slept. He was awakened just before the dawn by the touch of his uncle’s hand. Starting up, he looked into Mr. Blakeney’s face, and was horrified at the change that had come over him. He looked ten years older, drawn, gray, and haggard. He had, in fact, been awake all night, in a state of intense nervous anxiety about his son. "My lad," he said in a hoarse voice, "we must saddle up and be off again. The nags are tired, but they will stand up for a day longer. I pray God all may yet be well; but I fear--yes, I fear this hateful, waterless desert. It is a danger far worse than the worst lion veldt, or the most treacherous natives. I would to God I had never let you two lads go hunting till we had crossed it." For the greater part of that day they continued the search, which, to Guy’s sinking heart, seemed to become more and more hopeless. Occasionally they would fire a shot and listen, but, alas! no answering shot returned. It was pitiful to watch his uncle’s restless anxiety, his feverish haste. Towards one o’clock it became apparent that their own horses were already jaded. They were now near the wagon spoor again, and, with the view of reaching water and obtaining fresh mounts, they rode, at the best pace their ponies could manage, on the track. At half-past five o’clock they had reached the outspan and water. Poeskop came forward with an anxious face. "Is Baas Tom here?" demanded Mr. Blakeney, in a hard, dry voice. "Nie, baas," came the answer shakily. "He is not here. But his pony came in alone, and very done up, two hours since."