There Is Little Rank Grass Along Their Borders, No Sign Of Water-Lilies,
And Few Weeds Within Them; Clumps Of Palms Dotted Here And There Among
The Light Timber, And Everywhere Sunflecked, Warm, Dry Shade.
Nowhere is
there a hint of that sinister suggestion of the Reach.
Clear, beautiful,
limpid, wide-spreading, irregular pools, set in an undulating field of
emerald-green mossy surf, shaded with graceful foliage and gleaming in
the sunlight with exquisite opal tints - a giant necklace of opals, set in
links of emerald green, and thrown down at hazard to fall in loops and
curves within a forest grove.
It is in appearance only the pools are isolated; for although many feet
apart in some instances, they are linked together throughout by a shallow
underground river, that runs over a rocky bed; while the turf, that looks
so solid in many places, is barely a two-foot crust arched over five or
six feet of space and water - a deathtrap for heavy cattle; but a place of
interest to white folk.
The Maluka and I wandered aimlessly in and out among the pools for a
while, and, then coming out unexpectedly from a piece of bush, found
ourselves face to face with a sight that froze all movement out of us for
a moment - the living, moving head of a horse, standing upright from the
turf on a few inches of neck: a grey, uncanny, bodyless head, nickering
piteously at us as it stood on the turf at our feet.
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