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well the sky varied in these parts, for there was such a lot of it. He would have spoken aloud, but was a little nervous of the sound of his own voice. It seemed a mad thing to talk to oneself, and he did not want to think of madness. The plain was too big, too absolutely empty except for himself.

At the second water-hole he lay down and slept, deadweary, having gone further than he ever intended. The night was far gone. Next day he rose later than before, rather angry with himself and realising he had been a fool. It was madness to tax his strength at the beginning of what promised to be a rather difficult business. He saw himself forced to waste ten precious hours, for it was no use starting for the next water-hole while the sun still shone. He could not make it in one day’s march, he would be lucky to do it in two, and though the water-bag was heavy enough to carry it held a very scanty ration for two days in the heat. Walking at night he would not be quite so thirsty.

So he waited through the day, chafing; he could not sleep much, and after sunset his first night-march began.

All the others were to be very like it, silent tramps under the climbing, wheeling stars. They were golden and very large against a background of black or purple or dark blue; he watched them nearly all the time, for there was nothing much to stumble over on that enormous plain. When he left Widgery the moon was new, and but for it he might have lost count of the days. Time did not worry him much now, but he rather disliked the moon. It was so aggressively bright; however, it did not really begin to worry him till much later.

He was glad to reach the third water-hole, for it was very hard to find. He searched calmly for it, having an odd feeling that it was not anywhere within a score of miles, though he knew he could not have passed it; and when at last it appeared in a sudden small hollow, ringed with startling green, he would have not been at all surprised