We had already, according to our calculation, performed the distance to
Mr Strong's station, but no signs of it could we discover. The heat
was oppressive, and seeing a wood on our left, we were assured from the
nature of the trees, that either a water-hole or a stream would be
found. We agreed to camp there for a couple of hours to let our horses
feed and to take our dinner, hoping then by pushing on that we should
before evening at all events arrive at the station. I had ridden
forward to look out for the water, when just as I caught sight of the
glitter of a pool, I saw two persons emerge from the shade. They were
white lads with a couple of dogs and had guns in their hands. So intent
were they on some object before them that they did not perceive me. One
of them fired at an opossum which they had, I concluded, driven out of
its hole. The animal fell to the ground, when they dashed forward to
save it from being torn to pieces by the dogs. As they did so, one of
them looked up and saw me watching them.
"Hallo! Where do you come from?" he exclaimed advancing.
"From England," I answered. "We want to reach Mr Strong's station, and
shall be obliged if you will help us to find it."
"That's where we live, so we can take you to it," replied the lad. "You
have, however, come somewhat out of your way, and must have passed it on
your right."