I must say that the water we found here did not look very inviting--it was, in fact, very slimy and green in colour; but by the time we took our departure there was not a drop left.

Yamba had a method of filtration which excited my admiration.

She dug another hole alongside the one containing the water, leaving a few inches of earth between them, through which the water would percolate, and collect in hole perfectly filtered.
At other times, when no ordinary human being could detect the presence of water, she would point out to me a little knob of clay on the ground in an old dried-up water-hole.

This, she told me, denoted the presence of a frog, and she would at once thrust down a reed about eighteen inches long, and invite me to suck the upper end, with the result that I imbibed copious draughts of delicious water.
At the water-hole just described birds were rather plentiful, and when they came down to drink, Yamba knocked them over without difficulty.

They made a very welcome addition to our daily bill of fare.