In my mental eye I could see
"The rush of squadrons sweeping,
Like whirlwinds o'er the plain;"
and mentally hear
"The shouting of the slayers,
The screeching of the slain."
I called this splendid circle the Champ de Mars; it is, I dare say,
fifteen or sixteen miles round. The hills on the northern side were
much higher than those near us, and appeared more inviting for water;
so we rode across the circle to them. In a kind of gully between the
hills, at four and a half miles, I found a rock-hole full of water in
a triodia creek; it was seven or eight feet deep, and almost hidden
amongst rocks and scrubs. The water drained into the hole from above.
By the time my horses were all satisfied they had lowered it very
considerably, and I did not think there would be a drink for them all
in the morning; but when we took them up next day I found the rocky
basin had been replenished during the night.
A valley led away from here, along the foot of the northern hills,
almost west. At five miles we crossed the channel of a fine little
creek, coming from thence; it had several sheets of water with rocky
banks, and there were numerous ducks on the waters.
