9th September.
At dawn Mr. Harding and myself got up from our beds of sand stiff and
giddy, but much refreshed by the cold night air. In four or five miles we
met Mr. Brown with fresh horses and a supply of water, having succeeded
in reaching the depot at 8 p.m. the night before, with only one horse. We
were now enabled to proceed with the tracking up of the horses left
overnight, which, after resting some hours, had commenced to ramble in
search of water; Mr. Brown returning on our route and recovering the
saddles and firearms left the previous evening, the stores abandoned the
day before being too far off to attempt their recovery. By 8.30 p.m. we
had all returned to the depot, having tracked up the three missing
horses, the two left at the furthest point being too distant to carry
relief to without incurring the risk of further loss. I cannot omit to
remark the singular effects of excessive thirst upon the eyes of the
horses; they absolutely sunk into their heads until there was a hollow of
sufficient depth to entirely bury the thumb in, and there was an
appearance as though the whole of the head had shrunk with them,
producing a very unpleasant and ghastly expression. Depot camp.
10th September.
We were only able to move the camp a mile to another waterhole, for the
sake of a little better feed. Bivouac.