8/32 The hills to the west were twenty-five to thirty miles away, and I had to give up trying to reach them. How I longed for a camel! Gibson's horse was now so bad as to place both of us in a great dilemma. We turned back in our tracks, when the cob refused to carry his rider any farther, and tried to lie down. We drove him another mile on foot, and down he fell to die. My mare, the 'Fair Maid of Perth,' was only too willing to return, but she had now to carry Gibson's saddle and things, and away we went, walking and riding in turns of one half-hour each. |