Читать книгу The Last Chance: A Tale of the Golden West онлайн

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Here there was none, absolutely none. Dust of a red hue, subtly pervading all nature, was the chief elemental feature. Water was more or less available for sluicing, puddling, cradling, or other purposes connected with mining operations,—here there was none to be seen except in the small quantities required for partial lavation and for engine work. This last was of course procurable, but being generally salt or brackish, required to be subjected to the condenser, lest damage to the engine should ensue. In the hotels it was dearer than wine or beer in the coast cities—was always, indeed, charged for separately in the bars when supplied with alcohol!

‘What a desert!’ thought the Commissioner. ‘Have we reached Arabia by any magical process? And here come the camels proper to the scene.’ As he spoke, a long string of those Eastern-seeming animals came nearer, and the Afghan drivers, turbaned and with flowing garb, heightened the resemblance.

‘This is a queer shop, sir,’ said Waters, as he observed his companion’s looks of amazement and curiosity. ‘Barrawong wasn’t over-pleasant, as you ssss1 might say, on a hot day, with the north wind blowin’ the dust in your eyes—but it was a king to this; and then the river—you could allers have a swim; and nothing freshens a man up like a good header into cool, deep water after his day’s work.’