Sinopsis

“How many more days, Jan, will it be before we get across this abominable desert?” I asked of our black guide, as we trudged along, he leading our sole remaining ox, while my uncle, Mr Roger Farley, and I led our two horses laden with the remnants of our property. “May be ten days, may be two ten,” answered Jan Jigger, whose knowledge of numerals was somewhat limited. I gave a groan, for I was footsore and weary, and expected to have had a more satisfactory answer. We were making our way over a light-colored soft sand, sprinkled in some places with tall grass, rising in tufts, with bare spots between them. In other parts were various creeping plants, and also—though I called the region a desert—there were extensive patches of bushes, above which here and there rose clumps of trees of considerable height.