Twice we rode as far into the desert as we dared, for our horses remained to us and had grown fresh again after the rest, but only to return without information.

The place was just a vast wilderness strewn with brown stones beautifully polished by the wind-driven sand of ages, and quite devoid of water.
After our second trip, on which we suffered severely from thirst, we held a consultation.

Old Babemba said that he could keep his men no longer, even for us, as they insisted upon returning home, and inquired what we meant to do and why we sat here "like a stone." I answered that we were waiting for some of the Kendah who had bid me to shoot game hereabouts until they arrived to be our guides.

He remarked that the Kendah to the best of his belief lived in a country that was still hundreds of miles away and that, as they did not know of our presence, any communication across the desert being impossible, our proceedings seemed to be foolish.
I retorted that I was not quite so sure of this, since the Kendah seemed to have remarkable ways of acquiring information.
"Then, Macumazana, I fear that you will have to wait by yourselves until you discover which of us is right," he said stolidly.
Turning to Ragnall, I asked him what he would do, pointing out that to journey into the desert meant death, especially as we did not know whither we were going, and that to return alone, without the stores which we must abandon, through the country of the bushmen to Mazituland, would also be a risky proceeding.

However, it was for him to decide.
Now he grew much perturbed.