a pannikin for the small trickle of water creeping in from between the
outside of the caisson and the sides of the rock-hole, then again forcing
the box lower, and clearing out the sand above, now drained of its
moisture, and repeating the baling process, we were enabled to drain the
well of almost every drop it contained. On first acquaintance with these
wells a novice's impulse would be to dig out the sand until the bottom
was reached; but as the sand holds the water he would find himself with a
nicely cleared hole, but cleared of sand and water alike. Therefore,
without some such makeshift as that already described one would be in the
most unsatisfactory position of knowing that water existed, and yet of
being unable to obtain any but a very small supply. The natives use
comparatively little water, since it is only for drinking purposes,
washing being unknown, and as the water sinks in the well the sand is
scooped out gradually and carefully and plastered round the sides of the
hole, so preventing the inrush of sand. Very often when they require a
drink they bend down and suck up the water through a bunch of grass,
which prevents the sand from getting into the mouth.

The water from the wells was always bad, and on first being brought to
the surface was hardly fit to use; the camels would not, unless really
dry, drink it until it had been exposed in our canvas troughs to the air
for some time. Lying stagnant perhaps for a year or more, protected by
the sand, it is not to be wondered at that its flavour is not of the
best. Digging in the sand discloses all sorts of odds and ends that could
not fail to contaminate the water. It contains also--derived, I suppose,
from the sandstone--a certain amount of iron, which I believe to have
acted as a sort of tonic to us. A many-tinted, bluish scum always floated
on the surface and tea made with it turned as black as ink--nevertheless
it was quite good drinking.