The Winslow mail., 1924-07-11

that De Witt could have allied him
self with the Bechuanas. They would
have rejected overtures from any
white man; and De Witt, scoundreI
though he was, would hardly have
made them. Winton's suspicious now
became certainty in his mind. The
Dutchman, who was well known
throughout the desert country, had
gathered about himself a few wander
ing Hottentots, probably old servants
or cattlemen, by whose aid he hoped
to strike across the desert into an
other territory.
The tracks led due west, toward the
heart of the almost unknown Kala-
hari, the desert of salt pans, inhabited
only by few wandering Bushmen and
the antelope on which they lived.
Winton knew that there was no set
tlement of any kind, not even a native
one, for hundreds of miles in this di-
rectiOn. If one went far enough, how
ever, and knew how to live on the
wild melons that send their tap-roots
hundreds of feet into the ground and
draw up water, one would enter Ger
man territory, where the Herrero
tribesmen lived among the infrequent
oases. Thence one could strike the
western shore.
And WintOn suddenly began to think
that Van Worst must have taken this
route Probably the same Hottentots
who had accompanied De Witt had
helped Van Worst across the desert.
They might even have cached food and
water in some lonely spot.
Winton's heart sank as he followed
the faint tracks mile after mile, often
reduced to a slow walk in order not
to lose them. Sometimes only tuft
of downtrodden, withered grass, or a
few displaced pebbles showed him
his route. And then even the wisps
of grass vanished and the fiinty desert
lay smooth before him.
1t was early afternoon Winton had
been guiding himself more by instinct
and judgment than by any visible
traces. He realized now that he had
lost the trail, and lost it half an hour
before, and had been deluding him.
self with signs which were nonexist-
ent. Worse than that, it was impos-
sible to pick up the spoor by going
back.
His horse had gone gamely, but it
was gradually giving out. He dis
mounted, and the beast stood painting,
with dropping head. 1t had ceased to
sweat-an ominous sign. He left it
and began to cast about in a wide
circle in the hope of hitting the tracks.
But he found nothing; and, standing
HndSr the blistering sun. he knew that
he was himself lost, that he had COW
cred Some five and thirty miles which,
if retraced, must be retraced afoot.
He went back. The animal had not
moved He looked about him. In the
far distance were the faintest blue
outlines of hills. 1t occurred to him
that De Witt might have been making
for these And he might as we'll go
forward as turn back.
He trudged on endlessly, leading the
horse, the sun a grilling fire above
him His boots were burned through
from contact with the hot stones.
Loose shale and fiints slipped under
his tread.
The sun, even in its descent, seemed
to grow hotter. Winton was half
dead from thirst. The painting horse
was becoming a burden. At last it
stood still and dropped slowly upon
its knees. 1t looked at him and
whinnied.
AS Winton glanced hopelessly over
the plain his eyes were arrested by
the sight of a dark object lying an
indefinite distance away. 1t was too
large for a man-toO black for rock.
And there were no rocks anywhere,
for the whole plain seemed to have
been crushed flat by a giant steam
roller.
Winton made his way toward it. 1t
began to take form; it was a dead
horse. 1t had dropped in its tracks,
and it's sufferings had been ended by
a bullet through the head. But there
were no signs of a rider, and it was
impossible to distinguish any foot
tracks on the stones.
1t was no doubt the horse that had
been ridden by one of the three 1t
was not De Wits. Probably it was
the Hottentot's.
Winton's spirits scared upward. He
set his teeth grimly and went back
to his animal. He must go on now,
even if he had to leave the beast be-
hind him.
He stood looking at it. It had fallen
upon its stomach, and crouched thus,
with its legs bent under it. 1t raised
its head and whinnied again family.
1t was past saving, unless ~oter could
be procured Immediately.
WintOn drew his revolver, took care
full aim behind the ear, and fired. The
beasts head went doWn-it quiYered,