summaryrefslogtreecommitdiff
path: root/old/strtt10h.htm
blob: 9ce3a19fb9d6096d5dd8b139899072ae32e40e4f (plain) 
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715
716
717
718
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740
741
742
743
744
745
746
747
748
749
750
751
752
753
754
755
756
757
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775
776
777
778
779
780
781
782
783
784
785
786
787
788
789
790
791
792
793
794
795
796
797
798
799
800
801
802
803
804
805
806
807
808
809
810
811
812
813
814
815
816
817
818
819
820
821
822
823
824
825
826
827
828
829
830
831
832
833
834
835
836
837
838
839
840
841
842
843
844
845
846
847
848
849
850
851
852
853
854
855
856
857
858
859
860
861
862
863
864
865
866
867
868
869
870
871
872
873
874
875
876
877
878
879
880
881
882
883
884
885
886
887
888
889
890
891
892
893
894
895
896
897
898
899
900
901
902
903
904
905
906
907
908
909
910
911
912
913
914
915
916
917
918
919
920
921
922
923
924
925
926
927
928
929
930
931
932
933
934
935
936
937
938
939
940
941
942
943
944
945
946
947
948
949
950
951
952
953
954
955
956
957
958
959
960
961
962
963
964
965
966
967
968
969
970
971
972
973
974
975
976
977
978
979
980
981
982
983
984
985
986
987
988
989
990
991
992
993
994
995
996
997
998
999
1000
1001
1002
1003
1004
1005
1006
1007
1008
1009
1010
1011
1012
1013
1014
1015
1016
1017
1018
1019
1020
1021
1022
1023
1024
1025
1026
1027
1028
1029
1030
1031
1032
1033
1034
1035
1036
1037
1038
1039
1040
1041
1042
1043
1044
1045
1046
1047
1048
1049
1050
1051
1052
1053
1054
1055
1056
1057
1058
1059
1060
1061
1062
1063
1064
1065
1066
1067
1068
1069
1070
1071
1072
1073
1074
1075
1076
1077
1078
1079
1080
1081
1082
1083
1084
1085
1086
1087
1088
1089
1090
1091
1092
1093
1094
1095
1096
1097
1098
1099
1100
1101
1102
1103
1104
1105
1106
1107
1108
1109
1110
1111
1112
1113
1114
1115
1116
1117
1118
1119
1120
1121
1122
1123
1124
1125
1126
1127
1128
1129
1130
1131
1132
1133
1134
1135
1136
1137
1138
1139
1140
1141
1142
1143
1144
1145
1146
1147
1148
1149
1150
1151
1152
1153
1154
1155
1156
1157
1158
1159
1160
1161
1162
1163
1164
1165
1166
1167
1168
1169
1170
1171
1172
1173
1174
1175
1176
1177
1178
1179
1180
1181
1182
1183
1184
1185
1186
1187
1188
1189
1190
1191
1192
1193
1194
1195
1196
1197
1198
1199
1200
1201
1202
1203
1204
1205
1206
1207
1208
1209
1210
1211
1212
1213
1214
1215
1216
1217
1218
1219
1220
1221
1222
1223
1224
1225
1226
1227
1228
1229
1230
1231
1232
1233
1234
1235
1236
1237
1238
1239
1240
1241
1242
1243
1244
1245
1246
1247
1248
1249
1250
1251
1252
1253
1254
1255
1256
1257
1258
1259
1260
1261
1262
1263
1264
1265
1266
1267
1268
1269
1270
1271
1272
1273
1274
1275
1276
1277
1278
1279
1280
1281
1282
1283
1284
1285
1286
1287
1288
1289
1290
1291
1292
1293
1294
1295
1296
1297
1298
1299
1300
1301
1302
1303
1304
1305
1306
1307
1308
1309
1310
1311
1312
1313
1314
1315
1316
1317
1318
1319
1320
1321
1322
1323
1324
1325
1326
1327
1328
1329
1330
1331
1332
1333
1334
1335
1336
1337
1338
1339
1340
1341
1342
1343
1344
1345
1346
1347
1348
1349
1350
1351
1352
1353
1354
1355
1356
1357
1358
1359
1360
1361
1362
1363
1364
1365
1366
1367
1368
1369
1370
1371
1372
1373
1374
1375
1376
1377
1378
1379
1380
1381
1382
1383
1384
1385
1386
1387
1388
1389
1390
1391
1392
1393
1394
1395
1396
1397
1398
1399
1400
1401
1402
1403
1404
1405
1406
1407
1408
1409
1410
1411
1412
1413
1414
1415
1416
1417
1418
1419
1420
1421
1422
1423
1424
1425
1426
1427
1428
1429
1430
1431
1432
1433
1434
1435
1436
1437
1438
1439
1440
1441
1442
1443
1444
1445
1446
1447
1448
1449
1450
1451
1452
1453
1454
1455
1456
1457
1458
1459
1460
1461
1462
1463
1464
1465
1466
1467
1468
1469
1470
1471
1472
1473
1474
1475
1476
1477
1478
1479
1480
1481
1482
1483
1484
1485
1486
1487
1488
1489
1490
1491
1492
1493
1494
1495
1496
1497
1498
1499
1500
1501
1502
1503
1504
1505
1506
1507
1508
1509
1510
1511
1512
1513
1514
1515
1516
1517
1518
1519
1520
1521
1522
1523
1524
1525
1526
1527
1528
1529
1530
1531
1532
1533
1534
1535
1536
1537
1538
1539
1540
1541
1542
1543
1544
1545
1546
1547
1548
1549
1550
1551
1552
1553
1554
1555
1556
1557
1558
1559
1560
1561
1562
1563
1564
1565
1566
1567
1568
1569
1570
1571
1572
1573
1574
1575
1576
1577
1578
1579
1580
1581
1582
1583
1584
1585
1586
1587
1588
1589
1590
1591
1592
1593
1594
1595
1596
1597
1598
1599
1600
1601
1602
1603
1604
1605
1606
1607
1608
1609
1610
1611
1612
1613
1614
1615
1616
1617
1618
1619
1620
1621
1622
1623
1624
1625
1626
1627
1628
1629
1630
1631
1632
1633
1634
1635
1636
1637
1638
1639
1640
1641
1642
1643
1644
1645
1646
1647
1648
1649
1650
1651
1652
1653
1654
1655
1656
1657
1658
1659
1660
1661
1662
1663
1664
1665
1666
1667
1668
1669
1670
1671
1672
1673
1674
1675
1676
1677
1678
1679
1680
1681
1682
1683
1684
1685
1686
1687
1688
1689
1690
1691
1692
1693
1694
1695
1696
1697
1698
1699
1700
1701
1702
1703
1704
1705
1706
1707
1708
1709
1710
1711
1712
1713
1714
1715
1716
1717
1718
1719
1720
1721
1722
1723
1724
1725
1726
1727
1728
1729
1730
1731
1732
1733
1734
1735
1736
1737
1738
1739
1740
1741
1742
1743
1744
1745
1746
1747
1748
1749
1750
1751
1752
1753
1754
1755
1756
1757
1758
1759
1760
1761
1762
1763
1764
1765
1766
1767
1768
1769
1770
1771
1772
1773
1774
1775
1776
1777
1778
1779
1780
1781
1782
1783
1784
1785
1786
1787
1788
1789
1790
1791
1792
1793
1794
1795
1796
1797
1798
1799
1800
1801
1802
1803
1804
1805
1806
1807
1808
1809
1810
1811
1812
1813
1814
1815
1816
1817
1818
1819
1820
1821
1822
1823
1824
1825
1826
1827
1828
1829
1830
1831
1832
1833
1834
1835
1836
1837
1838
1839
1840
1841
1842
1843
1844
1845
1846
1847
1848
1849
1850
1851
1852
1853
1854
1855
1856
1857
1858
1859
1860
1861
1862
1863
1864
1865
1866
1867
1868
1869
1870
1871
1872
1873
1874
1875
1876
1877
1878
1879
1880
1881
1882
1883
1884
1885
1886
1887
1888
1889
1890
1891
1892
1893
1894
1895
1896
1897
1898
1899
1900
1901
1902
1903
1904
1905
1906
1907
1908
1909
1910
1911
1912
1913
1914
1915
1916
1917
1918
1919
1920
1921
1922
1923
1924
1925
1926
1927
1928
1929
1930
1931
1932
1933
1934
1935
1936
1937
1938
1939
1940
1941
1942
1943
1944
1945
1946
1947
1948
1949
1950
1951
1952
1953
1954
1955
1956
1957
1958
1959
1960
1961
1962
1963
1964
1965
1966
1967
1968
1969
1970
1971
1972
1973
1974
1975
1976
1977
1978
1979
1980
1981
1982
1983
1984
1985
1986
1987
1988
1989
1990
1991
1992
1993
1994
1995
1996
1997
1998
1999
2000
2001
2002
2003
2004
2005
2006
2007
2008
2009
2010
2011
2012
2013
2014
2015
2016
2017
2018
2019
2020
2021
2022
2023
2024
2025
2026
2027
2028
2029
2030
2031
2032
2033
2034
2035
2036
2037
2038
2039
2040
2041
2042
2043
2044
2045
2046
2047
2048
2049
2050
2051
2052
2053
2054
2055
2056
2057
2058
2059
2060
2061
2062
2063
2064
2065
2066
2067
2068
2069
2070
2071
2072
2073
2074
2075
2076
2077
2078
2079
2080
2081
2082
2083
2084
2085
2086
2087
2088
2089
2090
2091
2092
2093
2094
2095
2096
2097
2098
2099
2100
2101
2102
2103
2104
2105
2106
2107
2108
2109
2110
2111
2112
2113
2114
2115
2116
2117
2118
2119
2120
2121
2122
2123
2124
2125
2126
2127
2128
2129
2130
2131
2132
2133
2134
2135
2136
2137
2138
2139
2140
2141
2142
2143
2144
2145
2146
2147
2148
2149
2150
2151
2152
2153
2154
2155
2156
2157
2158
2159
2160
2161
2162
2163
2164
2165
2166
2167
2168
2169
2170
2171
2172
2173
2174
2175
2176
2177
2178
2179
2180
2181
2182
2183
2184
2185
2186
2187
2188
2189
2190
2191
2192
2193
2194
2195
2196
2197
2198
2199
2200
2201
2202
2203
2204
2205
2206
2207
2208
2209
2210
2211
2212
2213
2214
2215
2216
2217
2218
2219
2220
2221
2222
2223
2224
2225
2226
2227
2228
2229
2230
2231
2232
2233
2234
2235
2236
2237
2238
2239
2240
2241
2242
2243
2244
2245
2246
2247
2248
2249
2250
2251
2252
2253
2254
2255
2256
2257
2258
2259
2260
2261
2262
2263
2264
2265
2266
2267
2268
2269
2270
2271
2272
2273
2274
2275
2276
2277
2278
2279
2280
2281
2282
2283
2284
2285
2286
2287
2288
2289
2290
2291
2292
2293
2294
2295
2296
2297
2298
2299
2300
2301
2302
2303
2304
2305
2306
2307
2308
2309
2310
2311
2312
2313
2314
2315
2316
2317
2318
2319
2320
2321
2322
2323
2324
2325
2326
2327
2328
2329
2330
2331
2332
2333
2334
2335
2336
2337
2338
2339
2340
2341
2342
2343
2344
2345
2346
2347
2348
2349
2350
2351
2352
2353
2354
2355
2356
2357
2358
2359
2360
2361
2362
2363
2364
2365
2366
2367
2368
2369
2370
2371
2372
2373
2374
2375
2376
2377
2378
2379
2380
2381
2382
2383
2384
2385
2386
2387
2388
2389
2390
2391
2392
2393
2394
2395
2396
2397
2398
2399
2400
2401
2402
2403
2404
2405
2406
2407
2408
2409
2410
2411
2412
2413
2414
2415
2416
2417
2418
2419
2420
2421
2422
2423
2424
2425
2426
2427
2428
2429
2430
2431
2432
2433
2434
2435
2436
2437
2438
2439
2440
2441
2442
2443
2444
2445
2446
2447
2448
2449
2450
2451
2452
2453
2454
2455
2456
2457
2458
2459
2460
2461
2462
2463
2464
2465
2466
2467
2468
2469
2470
2471
2472
2473
2474
2475
2476
2477
2478
2479
2480
2481
2482
2483
2484
2485
2486
2487
2488
2489
2490
2491
2492
2493
2494
2495
2496
2497
2498
2499
2500
2501
2502
2503
2504
2505
2506
2507
2508
2509
2510
2511
2512
2513
2514
2515
2516
2517
2518
2519
2520
2521
2522
2523
2524
2525
2526
2527
2528
2529
2530
2531
2532
2533
2534
2535
2536
2537
2538
2539
2540
2541
2542
2543
2544
2545
2546
2547
2548
2549
2550
2551
2552
2553
2554
2555
2556
2557
2558
2559
2560
2561
2562
2563
2564
2565
2566
2567
2568
2569
2570
2571
2572
2573
2574
2575
2576
2577
2578
2579
2580
2581
2582
2583
2584
2585
2586
2587
2588
2589
2590
2591
2592
2593
2594
2595
2596
2597
2598
2599
2600
2601
2602
2603
2604
2605
2606
2607
2608
2609
2610
2611
2612
2613
2614
2615
2616
2617
2618
2619
2620
2621
2622
2623
2624
2625
2626
2627
2628
2629
2630
2631
2632
2633
2634
2635
2636
2637
2638
2639
2640
2641
2642
2643
2644
2645
2646
2647
2648
2649
2650
2651
2652
2653
2654
2655
2656
2657
2658
2659
2660
2661
2662
2663
2664
2665
2666
2667
2668
2669
2670
2671
2672
2673
2674
2675
2676
2677
2678
2679
2680
2681
2682
2683
2684
2685
2686
2687
2688
2689
2690
2691
2692
2693
2694
2695
2696
2697
2698
2699
2700
2701
2702
2703
2704
2705
2706
2707
2708
2709
2710
2711
2712
2713
2714
2715
2716
2717
2718
2719
2720
2721
2722
2723
2724
2725
2726
2727
2728
2729
2730
2731
2732
2733
2734
2735
2736
2737
2738
2739
2740
2741
2742
2743
2744
2745
2746
2747
2748
2749
2750
2751
2752
2753
2754
2755
2756
2757
2758
2759
2760
2761
2762
2763
2764
2765
2766
2767
2768
2769
2770
2771
2772
2773
2774
2775
2776
2777
2778
2779
2780
2781
2782
2783
2784
2785
2786
2787
2788
2789
2790
2791
2792
2793
2794
2795
2796
2797
2798
2799
2800
2801
2802
2803
2804
2805
2806
2807
2808
2809
2810
2811
2812
2813
2814
2815
2816
2817
2818
2819
2820
2821
2822
2823
2824
2825
2826
2827
2828
2829
2830
2831
2832
2833
2834
2835
2836
2837
2838
2839
2840
2841
2842
2843
2844
2845
2846
2847
2848
2849
2850
2851
2852
2853
2854
2855
2856
2857
2858
2859
2860
2861
2862
2863
2864
2865
2866
2867
2868
2869
2870
2871
2872
2873
2874
2875
2876
2877
2878
2879
2880
2881
2882
2883
2884
2885
2886
2887
2888
2889
2890
2891
2892
2893
2894
2895
2896
2897
2898
2899
2900
2901
2902
2903
2904
2905
2906
2907
2908
2909
2910
2911
2912
2913
2914
2915
2916
2917
2918
2919
2920
2921
2922
2923
2924
2925
2926
2927
2928
2929
2930
2931
2932
2933
2934
2935
2936
2937
2938
2939
2940
2941
2942
2943
2944
2945
2946
2947
2948
2949
2950
2951
2952
2953
2954
2955
2956
2957
2958
2959
2960
2961
2962
2963
2964
2965
2966
2967
2968
2969
2970
2971
2972
2973
2974
2975
2976
2977
2978
2979
2980
2981
2982
2983
2984
2985
2986
2987
2988
2989
2990
2991
2992
2993
2994
2995
2996
2997
2998
2999
3000
3001
3002
3003
3004
3005
3006
3007
3008
3009
3010
3011
3012
3013
3014
3015
3016
3017
3018
3019
3020
3021
3022
3023
3024
3025
3026
3027
3028
3029
3030
3031
3032
3033
3034
3035
3036
3037
3038
3039
3040
3041
3042
3043
3044
3045
3046
3047
3048
3049
3050
3051
3052
3053
3054
3055
3056
3057
3058
3059
3060
3061
3062
3063
3064
3065
3066
3067
3068
3069
3070
3071
3072
3073
3074
3075
3076
3077
3078
3079
3080
3081
3082
3083
3084
3085
3086
3087
3088
3089
3090
3091
3092
3093
3094
3095
3096
3097
3098
3099
3100
3101
3102
3103
3104
3105
3106
3107
3108
3109
3110
3111
3112
3113
3114
3115
3116
3117
3118
3119
3120
3121
3122
3123
3124
3125
3126
3127
3128
3129
3130
3131
3132
3133
3134
3135
3136
3137
3138
3139
3140
3141
3142
3143
3144
3145
3146
3147
3148
3149
3150
3151
3152
3153
3154
3155
3156
3157
3158
3159
3160
3161
3162
3163
3164
3165
3166
3167
3168
3169
3170
3171
3172
3173
3174
3175
3176
3177
3178
3179
3180
3181
3182
3183
3184
3185
3186
3187
3188
3189
3190
3191
3192
3193
3194
3195
3196
3197
3198
3199
3200
3201
3202
3203
3204
3205
3206
3207
3208
3209
3210
3211
3212
3213
3214
3215
3216
3217
3218
3219
3220
3221
3222
3223
3224
3225
3226
3227
3228
3229
3230
3231
3232
3233
3234
3235
3236
3237
3238
3239
3240
3241
3242
3243
3244
3245
3246
3247
3248
3249
3250
3251
3252
3253
3254
3255
3256
3257
3258
3259
3260
3261
3262
3263
3264
3265
3266
3267
3268
3269
3270
3271
3272
3273
3274
3275
3276
3277
3278
3279
3280
3281
3282
3283
3284
3285
3286
3287
3288
3289
3290
3291
3292
3293
3294
3295
3296
3297
3298
3299
3300
3301
3302
3303
3304
3305
3306
3307
3308
3309
3310
3311
3312
3313
3314
3315
3316
3317
3318
3319
3320
3321
3322
3323
3324
3325
3326
3327
3328
3329
3330
3331
3332
3333
3334
3335
3336
3337
3338
3339
3340
3341
3342
3343
3344
3345
3346
3347
3348
3349
3350
3351
3352
3353
3354
3355
3356
3357
3358
3359
3360
3361
3362
3363
3364
3365
3366
3367
3368
3369
3370
3371
3372
3373
3374
3375
3376
3377
3378
3379
3380
3381
3382
3383
3384
3385
3386
3387
3388
3389
3390
3391
3392
3393
3394
3395
3396
3397
3398
3399
3400
3401
3402
3403
3404
3405
3406
3407
3408
3409
3410
3411
3412
3413
3414
3415
3416
3417
3418
3419
3420
3421
3422
3423
3424
3425
3426
3427
3428
3429
3430
3431
3432
3433
3434
3435
3436
3437
3438
3439
3440
3441
3442
3443
3444
3445
3446
3447
3448
3449
3450
3451
3452
3453
3454
3455
3456
3457
3458
3459
3460
3461
3462
3463
3464
3465
3466
3467
3468
3469
3470
3471
3472
3473
3474
3475
3476
3477
3478
3479
3480
3481
3482
3483
3484
3485
3486
3487
3488
3489
3490
3491
3492
3493
3494
3495
3496
3497
3498
3499
3500
3501
3502
3503
3504
3505
3506
3507
3508
3509
3510
3511
3512
3513
3514
3515
3516
3517
3518
3519
3520
3521
3522
3523
3524
3525
3526
3527
3528
3529
3530
3531
3532
3533
3534
3535
3536
3537
3538
3539
3540
3541
3542
3543
3544
3545
3546
3547
3548
3549
3550
3551
3552
3553
3554
3555
3556
3557
3558
3559
3560
3561
3562
3563
3564
3565
3566
3567
3568
3569
3570
3571
3572
3573
3574
3575
3576
3577
3578
3579
3580
3581
3582
3583
3584
3585
3586
3587
3588
3589
3590
3591
3592
3593
3594
3595
3596
3597
3598
3599
3600
3601
3602
3603
3604
3605
3606
3607
3608
3609
3610
3611
3612
3613
3614
3615
3616
3617
3618
3619
3620
3621
3622
3623
3624
3625
3626
3627
3628
3629
3630
3631
3632
3633
3634
3635
3636
3637
3638
3639
3640
3641
3642
3643
3644
3645
3646
3647
3648
3649
3650
3651
3652
3653
3654
3655
3656
3657
3658
3659
3660
3661
3662
3663
3664
3665
3666
3667
3668
3669
3670
3671
3672
3673
3674
3675
3676
3677
3678
3679
3680
3681
3682
3683
3684
3685
3686
3687
3688
3689
3690
3691
3692
3693
3694
3695
3696
3697
3698
3699
3700
3701
3702
3703
3704
3705
3706
3707
3708
3709
3710
3711
3712
3713
3714
3715
3716
3717
3718
3719
3720
3721
3722
3723
3724
3725
3726
3727
3728
3729
3730
3731
3732
3733
3734
3735
3736
3737
3738
3739
3740
3741
3742
3743
3744
3745
3746
3747
3748
3749
3750
3751
3752
3753
3754
3755
3756
3757
3758
3759
3760
3761
3762
3763
3764
3765
3766
3767
3768
3769
3770
3771
3772
3773
3774
3775
3776
3777
3778
3779
3780
3781
3782
3783
3784
3785
3786
3787
3788
3789
3790
3791
3792
3793
3794
3795
3796
3797
3798
3799
3800
3801
3802
3803
3804
3805
3806
3807
3808
3809
3810
3811
3812
3813
3814
3815
3816
3817
3818
3819
3820
3821
3822
3823
3824
3825
3826
3827
3828
3829
3830
3831
3832
3833
3834
3835
3836
3837
3838
3839
3840
3841
3842
3843
3844
3845
3846
3847
3848
3849
3850
3851
3852
3853
3854
3855
3856
3857
3858
3859
3860
3861
3862
3863
3864
3865
3866
3867
3868
3869
3870
3871
3872
3873
3874
3875
3876
3877
3878
3879
3880
3881
3882
3883
3884
3885
3886
3887
3888
3889
3890
3891
3892
3893
3894
3895
3896
3897
3898
3899
3900
3901
3902
3903
3904
3905
3906
3907
3908
3909
3910
3911
3912
3913
3914
3915
3916
3917
3918
3919
3920
3921
3922
3923
3924
3925
3926
3927
3928
3929
3930
3931
3932
3933
3934
3935
3936
3937
3938
3939
3940
3941
3942
3943
3944
3945
3946
3947
3948
3949
3950
3951
3952
3953
3954
3955
3956
3957
3958
3959
3960
3961
3962
3963
3964
3965
3966
3967
3968
3969
3970
3971
3972
3973
3974
3975
3976
3977
3978
3979
3980
3981
3982
3983
3984
3985
3986
3987
3988
3989
3990
3991
3992
3993
3994
3995
3996
3997
3998
3999
4000
4001
4002
4003
4004
4005
4006
4007
4008
4009
4010
4011
4012
4013
4014
4015
4016
4017
4018
4019
4020
4021
4022
4023
4024
4025
4026
4027
4028
4029
4030
4031
4032
4033
4034
4035
4036
4037
4038
4039
4040
4041
4042
4043
4044
4045
4046
4047
4048
4049
4050
4051
4052
4053
4054
4055
4056
4057
4058
4059
4060
4061
4062
4063
4064
4065
4066
4067
4068
4069
4070
4071
4072
4073
4074
4075
4076
4077
4078
4079
4080
4081
4082
4083
4084
4085
4086
4087
4088
4089
4090
4091
4092
4093
4094
4095
4096
4097
4098
4099
4100
4101
4102
4103
4104
4105
4106
4107
4108
4109
4110
4111
4112
4113
4114
4115
4116
4117
4118
4119
4120
4121
4122
4123
4124
4125
4126
4127
4128
4129
4130
4131
4132
4133
4134
4135
4136
4137
4138
4139
4140
4141
4142
4143
4144
4145
4146
4147
4148
4149
4150
4151
4152
4153
4154
4155
4156
4157
4158
4159
4160
4161
4162
4163
4164
4165
4166
4167
4168
4169
4170
4171
4172
4173
4174
4175
4176
4177
4178
4179
4180
4181
4182
4183
4184
4185
4186
4187
4188
4189
4190
4191
4192
4193
4194
4195
4196
4197
4198
4199
4200
4201
4202
4203
4204
4205
4206
4207
4208
4209
4210
4211
4212
4213
4214
4215
4216
4217
4218
4219
4220
4221
4222
4223
4224
4225
4226
4227
4228
4229
4230
4231
4232
4233
4234
4235
4236
4237
4238
4239
4240
4241
4242
4243
4244
4245
4246
4247
4248
4249
4250
4251
4252
4253
4254
4255
4256
4257
4258
4259
4260
4261
4262
4263
4264
4265
4266
4267
4268
4269
4270
4271
4272
4273
4274
4275
4276
4277
4278
4279
4280
4281
4282
4283
4284
4285
4286
4287
4288
4289
4290
4291
4292
4293
4294
4295
4296
4297
4298
4299
4300
4301
4302
4303
4304
4305
4306
4307
4308
4309
4310
4311
4312
4313
4314
4315
4316
4317
4318
4319
4320
4321
4322
4323
4324
4325
4326
4327
4328
4329
4330
4331
4332
4333
4334
4335
4336
4337
4338
4339
4340
4341
4342
4343
4344
4345
4346
4347
4348
4349
4350
4351
4352
4353
4354
4355
4356
4357
4358
4359
4360
4361
4362
4363
4364
4365
4366
4367
4368
4369
4370
4371
4372
4373
4374
4375
4376
4377
4378
4379
4380
4381
4382
4383
4384
4385
4386
4387
4388
4389
4390
4391
4392
4393
4394
4395
4396
4397
4398
4399
4400
4401
4402
4403
4404
4405
4406
4407
4408
4409
4410
4411
4412
4413
4414
4415
4416
4417
4418
4419
4420
4421
4422
4423
4424
4425
4426
4427
4428
4429
4430
4431
4432
4433
4434
4435
4436
4437
4438
4439
4440
4441
4442
4443
4444
4445
4446
4447
4448
4449
4450
4451
4452
4453
4454
4455
4456
4457
4458
4459
4460
4461
4462
4463
4464
4465
4466
4467
4468
4469
4470
4471
4472
4473
4474
4475
4476
4477
4478
4479
4480
4481
4482
4483
4484
4485
4486
4487
4488
4489
4490
4491
4492
4493
4494
4495
4496
4497
4498
4499
4500
4501
4502
4503
4504
4505
4506
4507
4508
4509
4510
4511
4512
4513
4514
4515
4516
4517
4518
4519
4520
4521
4522
4523
4524
4525
4526
4527
4528
4529
4530
4531
4532
4533
4534
4535
4536
4537
4538
4539
4540
4541
4542
4543
4544
4545
4546
4547
4548
4549
4550
4551
4552
4553
4554
4555
4556
4557
4558
4559
4560
4561
4562
4563
4564
4565
4566
4567
4568
4569
4570
4571
4572
4573
4574
4575
4576
4577
4578
4579
4580
4581
4582
4583
4584
4585
4586
4587
4588
4589
4590
4591
4592
4593
4594
4595
4596
4597
4598
4599
4600
4601
4602
4603
4604
4605
4606
4607
4608
4609
4610
4611
4612
4613
4614
4615
4616
4617
4618
4619
4620
4621
4622
4623
4624
4625
4626
4627
4628
4629
4630
4631
4632
4633
4634
4635
4636
4637
4638
4639
4640
4641
4642
4643
4644
4645
4646
4647
4648
4649
4650
4651
4652
4653
4654
4655
4656
4657
4658
4659
4660
4661
4662
4663
4664
4665
4666
4667
4668
4669
4670
4671
4672
4673
4674
4675
4676
4677
4678
4679
4680
4681
4682
4683
4684
4685
4686
4687
4688
4689
4690
4691
4692
4693
4694
4695
4696
4697
4698
4699
4700
4701
4702
4703
4704
4705
4706
4707
4708
4709
4710
4711
4712
4713
4714
4715
4716
4717
4718
4719
4720
4721
4722
4723
4724
4725
4726
4727
4728
4729
4730
4731
4732
4733
4734
4735
4736
4737
4738
4739
4740
4741
4742
4743
4744
4745
4746
4747
4748
4749
4750
4751
4752
4753
4754
4755
4756
4757
4758
4759
4760
4761
4762
4763
4764
4765
4766
4767
4768
4769
4770
4771
4772
4773
4774
4775
4776
4777
4778
4779
4780
4781
4782
4783
4784
4785
4786
4787
4788
4789
4790
4791
4792
4793
4794
4795
4796
4797
4798
4799
4800
4801
4802
4803
4804
4805
4806
4807
4808
4809
4810
4811
4812
4813
4814
4815
4816
4817
4818
4819
4820
4821
4822
4823
4824
4825
4826
4827
4828
4829
4830
4831
4832
4833
4834
4835
4836
4837
4838
4839
4840
4841
4842
4843
4844
4845
4846
4847
4848
4849
4850
4851
4852
4853
4854
4855
4856
4857
4858
4859
4860
4861
4862
4863
4864
4865
4866
4867
4868
4869
4870
4871
4872
4873
4874
4875
4876
4877
4878
4879
4880
4881
4882
4883
4884
4885
4886
4887
4888
4889
4890
4891
4892
4893
4894
4895
4896
4897
4898
4899
4900
4901
4902
4903
4904
4905
4906
4907
4908
4909
4910
4911
4912
4913
4914
4915
4916
4917
4918
4919
4920
4921
4922
4923
4924
4925
4926
4927
4928
4929
4930
4931
4932
4933
4934
4935
4936
4937
4938
4939
4940
4941
4942
4943
4944
4945
4946
4947
4948
4949
4950
4951
4952
4953
4954
4955
4956
4957
4958
4959
4960
4961
4962
4963
4964
4965
4966
4967
4968
4969
4970
4971
4972
4973
4974
4975
4976
4977
4978
4979
4980
4981
4982
4983
4984
4985
4986
4987
4988
4989
4990
4991
4992
4993
4994
4995
4996
4997
4998
4999
5000
5001
5002
5003
5004
5005
5006
5007
5008
5009
5010
5011
5012
5013
5014
5015
5016
5017
5018
5019
5020
5021
5022
5023
5024
5025
5026
5027
5028
5029
5030
5031
5032
5033
5034
5035
5036
5037
5038
5039
5040
5041
5042
5043
5044
5045
5046
5047
5048
5049
5050
5051
5052
5053
5054
5055
5056
5057
5058
5059
5060
5061
5062
5063
5064
5065
5066
5067
5068
5069
5070
5071
5072
5073
5074
5075
5076
5077
5078
5079
5080
5081
5082
5083
5084
5085
5086
5087
5088
5089
5090
5091
5092
5093
5094
5095
5096
5097
5098
5099
5100
5101
5102
5103
5104
5105
5106
5107
5108
5109
5110
5111
5112
5113
5114
5115
5116
5117
5118
5119
5120
5121
5122
5123
5124
5125
5126
5127
5128
5129
5130
5131
5132
5133
5134
5135
5136
5137
5138
5139
5140
5141
5142
5143
5144
5145
5146
5147
5148
5149
5150
5151
5152
5153
5154
5155
5156
5157
5158
5159
5160
5161
5162
5163
5164
5165
5166
5167
5168
5169
5170
5171
5172
5173
5174
5175
5176
5177
5178
5179
5180
5181
5182
5183
5184
5185
5186
5187
5188
5189
5190
5191
5192
5193
5194
5195
5196
5197
5198
5199
5200
5201
5202
5203
5204
5205
5206
5207
5208
5209
5210
5211
5212
5213
5214
5215
5216
5217
5218
5219
5220
5221
5222
5223
5224
5225
5226
5227
5228
5229
5230
5231
5232
5233
5234
5235
5236
5237
5238
5239
5240
5241
5242
5243
5244
5245
5246
5247
5248
5249
5250
5251
5252
5253
5254
5255
5256
5257
5258
5259
5260
5261
5262
5263
5264
5265
5266
5267
5268
5269
5270
5271
5272
5273
5274
5275
5276
5277
5278
5279
5280
5281
5282
5283
5284
5285
5286
5287
5288
5289
5290
5291
5292
5293
5294
5295
5296
5297
5298
5299
5300
5301
5302
5303
5304
5305
5306
5307
5308
5309
5310
5311
5312
5313
5314
5315
5316
5317
5318
5319
5320
5321
5322
5323
5324
5325
5326
5327
5328
5329
5330
5331
5332
5333
5334
5335
5336
5337
5338
5339
5340
5341
5342
5343
5344
5345
5346
5347
5348
5349
5350
5351
5352
5353
5354
5355
5356
5357
5358
5359
5360
5361
5362
5363
5364
5365
5366
5367
5368
5369
5370
5371
5372
5373
5374
5375
5376
5377
5378
5379
5380
5381
5382
5383
5384
5385
5386
5387
5388
5389
5390
5391
5392
5393
5394
5395
5396
5397
5398
5399
5400
5401
5402
5403
5404
5405
5406
5407
5408
5409
5410
5411
5412
5413
5414
5415
5416
5417
5418
5419
5420
5421
5422
5423
5424
5425
5426
5427
5428
5429
5430
5431
5432
5433
5434
5435
5436
5437
5438
5439
5440
5441
5442
5443
5444
5445
5446
5447
5448
5449
5450
5451
5452
5453
5454
5455
5456
5457
5458
5459
5460
5461
5462
5463
5464
5465
5466
5467
5468
5469
5470
5471
5472
5473
5474
5475
5476
5477
5478
5479
5480
5481
5482
5483
5484
5485
5486
5487
5488
5489
5490
5491
5492
5493
5494
5495
5496
5497
5498
5499
5500
5501
5502
5503
5504
5505
5506
5507
5508
5509
5510
5511
5512
5513
5514
5515
5516
5517
5518
5519
5520
5521
5522
5523
5524
5525
5526
5527
5528
5529
5530
5531
5532
5533
5534
5535
5536
5537
5538
5539
5540
5541
5542
5543
5544
5545
5546
5547
5548
5549
5550
5551
5552
5553
5554
5555
5556
5557
5558
5559
5560
5561
5562
5563
5564
5565
5566
5567
5568
5569
5570
5571
5572
5573
5574
5575
5576
5577
5578
5579
5580
5581
5582
5583
5584
5585
5586
5587
5588
5589
5590
5591
5592
5593
5594
5595
5596
5597
5598
5599
5600
5601
5602
5603
5604
5605
5606
5607
5608
5609
5610
5611
5612
5613
5614
5615
5616
5617
5618
5619
5620
5621
5622
5623
5624
5625
5626
5627
5628
5629
5630
5631
5632
5633
5634
5635
5636
5637
5638
5639
5640
5641
5642
5643
5644
5645
5646
5647
5648
5649
5650
5651
5652
5653
5654
5655
5656
5657
5658
5659
5660
5661
5662
5663
5664
5665
5666
5667
5668
5669
5670
5671
5672
5673
5674
5675
5676
5677
5678
5679
5680
5681
5682
5683
5684
5685
5686
5687
5688
5689
5690
5691
5692
5693
5694
5695
5696
5697
5698
5699
5700
5701
5702
5703
5704
5705
5706
5707
5708
5709
5710
5711
5712
5713
5714
5715
5716
5717
5718
5719
5720
5721
5722
5723
5724
5725
5726
5727
5728
5729
5730
5731
5732
5733
5734
5735
5736
5737
5738
5739
5740
5741
5742
5743
5744
5745
5746
5747
5748
5749
5750
5751
5752
5753
5754
5755
5756
5757
5758
5759
5760
5761
5762
5763
5764
5765
5766
5767
5768
5769
5770
5771
5772
5773
5774
5775
5776
5777
5778
5779
5780
5781
5782
5783
5784
5785
5786
5787
5788
5789
5790
5791
5792
5793
5794
5795
5796
5797
5798
5799
5800
5801
5802
5803
5804
5805
5806
5807
5808
5809
5810
5811
5812
5813
5814
5815
5816
5817
5818
5819
5820
5821
5822
5823
5824
5825
5826
5827
5828
5829
5830
5831
5832
5833
5834
5835
5836
5837
5838
5839
5840
5841
5842
5843
5844
5845
5846
5847
5848
5849
5850
5851
5852
5853
5854
5855
5856
5857
5858
5859
5860
5861
5862
5863
5864
5865
5866
5867
5868
5869
5870
5871
5872
5873
5874
5875
5876
5877
5878
5879
5880
5881
5882
5883
5884
5885
5886
5887
5888
5889
5890
5891
5892
5893
5894
5895
5896
5897
5898
5899
5900
5901
5902
5903
5904
5905
5906
5907
5908
5909
5910
5911
5912
5913
5914
5915
5916
5917
5918
5919
5920
5921
5922
5923
5924
5925
5926
5927
5928
5929
5930
5931
5932
5933
5934
5935
5936
5937
5938
5939
5940
5941
5942
5943
5944
5945
5946
5947
5948
5949
5950
5951
5952
5953
5954
5955
5956
5957
5958
5959
5960
5961
5962
5963
5964
5965
5966
5967
5968
5969
5970
5971
5972
5973
5974
5975
5976
5977
5978
5979
5980
5981
5982
5983
5984
5985
5986
5987
5988
5989
5990
5991
5992
5993
5994
5995
5996
5997
5998
5999
6000
6001
6002
6003
6004
6005
6006
6007
6008
6009
6010
6011
6012
6013
6014
6015
6016
6017
6018
6019
6020
6021
6022
6023
6024
6025
6026
6027
6028
6029
6030
6031
6032
6033
6034
6035
6036
6037
6038
6039
6040
6041
6042
6043
6044
6045
6046
6047
6048
6049
6050
6051
6052
6053
6054
6055
6056
6057
6058
6059
6060
6061
6062
6063
6064
6065
6066
6067
6068
6069
6070
6071
6072
6073
6074
6075
6076
6077
6078
6079
6080
6081
6082
6083
6084
6085
6086
6087
6088
6089
6090
6091
6092
6093
6094
6095
6096
6097
6098
6099
6100
6101
6102
6103
6104
6105
6106
6107
6108
6109
6110
6111
6112
6113
6114
6115
6116
6117
6118
6119
6120
6121
6122
6123
6124
6125
6126
6127
6128
6129
6130
6131
6132
6133
6134
6135
6136
6137
6138
6139
6140
6141
6142
6143
6144
6145
6146
6147
6148
6149
6150
6151
6152
6153
6154
6155
6156
6157
6158
6159
6160
6161
6162
6163
6164
6165
6166
6167
6168
6169
6170
6171
6172
6173
6174
6175
6176
6177
6178
6179
6180
6181
6182
6183
6184
6185
6186
6187
6188
6189
6190
6191
6192
6193
6194
6195
6196
6197
6198
6199
6200
6201
6202
6203
6204
6205
6206
6207
6208
6209
6210
6211
6212
6213
6214
6215
6216
6217
6218
6219
6220
6221
6222
6223
6224
6225
6226
6227
6228
6229
6230
6231
6232
6233
6234
6235
6236
6237
6238
6239
6240
6241
6242
6243
6244
6245
6246
6247
6248
6249
6250
6251
6252
6253
6254
6255
6256
6257
6258
6259
6260
6261
6262
6263
6264
6265
6266
6267
6268
6269
6270
6271
6272
6273
6274
6275
6276
6277
6278
6279
6280
6281
6282
6283
6284
6285
6286
6287
6288
6289
6290
6291
6292
6293
6294
6295
6296
6297
6298
6299
6300
6301
6302
6303
6304
6305
6306
6307
6308
6309
6310
6311
6312
6313
6314
6315
6316
6317
6318
6319
6320
6321
6322
6323
6324
6325
6326
6327
6328
6329
6330
6331
6332
6333
6334
6335
6336
6337
6338
6339
6340
6341
6342
6343
6344
6345
6346
6347
6348
6349
6350
6351
6352
6353
6354
6355
6356
6357
6358
6359
6360
6361
6362
6363
6364
6365
6366
6367
6368
6369
6370
6371
6372
6373
6374
6375
6376
6377
6378
6379
6380
6381
6382
6383
6384
6385
6386
6387
6388
6389
6390
6391
6392
6393
6394
6395
6396
6397
6398
6399
6400
6401
6402
6403
6404
6405
6406
6407
6408
6409
6410
6411
6412
6413
6414
6415
6416
6417
6418
6419
6420
6421
6422
6423
6424
6425
6426
6427
6428
6429
6430
6431
6432
6433
6434
6435
6436
6437
6438
6439
6440
6441
6442
6443
6444
6445
6446
6447
6448
6449
6450
6451
6452
6453
6454
6455
6456
6457
6458
6459
6460
6461
6462
6463
6464
6465
6466
6467
6468
6469
6470
6471
6472
6473
6474
6475
6476
6477
6478
6479
6480
6481
6482
6483
6484
6485
6486
6487
6488
6489
6490
6491
6492
6493
6494
6495
6496
6497
6498
6499
6500
6501
6502
6503
6504
6505
6506
6507
6508
6509
6510
6511
6512
6513
6514
6515
6516
6517
6518
6519
6520
6521
6522
6523
6524
6525
6526
6527
6528
6529
6530
6531
6532
6533
6534
6535
6536
6537
6538
6539
6540
6541
6542
6543
6544
6545
6546
6547
6548
6549
6550
6551
6552
6553
6554
6555
6556
6557
6558
6559
6560
6561
6562
6563
6564
6565
6566
6567
6568
6569
6570
6571
6572
6573
6574
6575
6576
6577
6578
6579
6580
6581
6582
6583
6584
6585
6586
6587
6588
6589
6590
6591
6592
6593
6594
6595
6596
6597
6598
6599
6600
6601
6602
6603
6604
6605
6606
6607
6608
6609
6610
6611
6612
6613
6614
6615
6616
6617
6618
6619
6620
6621
6622
6623
6624
6625
6626
6627
6628
6629
6630
6631
6632
6633
6634
6635
6636
6637
6638
6639
6640
6641
6642
6643
6644
6645
6646
6647
6648
6649
6650
6651
6652
6653
6654
6655
6656
6657
6658
6659
6660
6661
6662
6663
6664
6665
6666
6667
6668
6669
6670
6671
6672
6673
6674
6675
6676
6677
6678
6679
6680
6681
6682
6683
6684
6685
6686
6687
6688
6689
6690
6691
6692
6693
6694
6695
6696
6697
6698
6699
6700
6701
6702
6703
6704
6705
6706
6707
6708
6709
6710
6711
6712
6713
6714
6715
6716
6717
6718
6719
6720
6721
6722
6723
6724
6725
6726
6727
6728
6729
6730
6731
6732
6733
6734
6735
6736
6737
6738
6739
6740
6741
6742
6743
6744
6745
6746
6747
6748
6749
6750
6751
6752
6753
6754
6755
6756
6757
6758
6759
6760
6761
6762
6763
6764
6765
6766
6767
6768
6769
6770
6771
6772
6773
6774
6775
6776
6777
6778
6779
6780
6781
6782
6783
6784
6785
6786
6787
6788
6789
6790
6791
6792
6793
6794
6795
6796
6797
6798
6799
6800
6801
6802
6803
6804
6805
6806
6807
6808
6809
6810
6811
6812
6813
6814
6815
6816
6817
6818
6819
6820
6821
6822
6823
6824
6825
6826
6827
6828
6829
6830
6831
6832
6833
6834
6835
6836
6837
6838
6839
6840
6841
6842
6843
6844
6845
6846
6847
6848
6849
6850
6851
6852
6853
6854
6855
6856
6857
6858
6859
6860
6861
6862
6863
6864
6865
6866
6867
6868
6869
6870
6871
6872
6873
6874
6875
6876
6877
6878
6879
6880
6881
6882
6883
6884
6885
6886
6887
6888
6889
6890
6891
6892
6893
6894
6895
6896
6897
6898
6899
6900
6901
6902
6903
6904
6905
6906
6907
6908
6909
6910
6911
6912
6913
6914
6915
6916
6917
6918
6919
6920
6921
6922
6923
6924
6925
6926
6927
6928
6929
6930
6931
6932
6933
6934
6935
6936
6937
6938
6939
6940
6941
6942
6943
6944
6945
6946
6947
6948
6949
6950
6951
6952
6953
6954
6955
6956
6957
6958
6959
6960
6961
6962
6963
6964
6965
6966
6967
6968
6969
6970
6971
6972
6973
6974
6975
6976
6977
6978
6979
6980
6981
6982
6983
6984
6985
6986
6987
6988
6989
6990
6991
6992
6993
6994
6995
6996
6997
6998
6999
7000
7001
7002
7003
7004
7005
7006
7007
7008
7009
7010
7011
7012
7013
7014
7015
7016
7017
7018
7019
7020
7021
7022
7023
7024
7025
7026
7027
7028
7029
7030
7031
7032
7033
7034
7035
7036
7037
7038
7039
7040
7041
7042
7043
7044
7045
7046
7047
7048
7049
7050
7051
7052
7053
7054
7055
7056
7057
7058
7059
7060
7061
7062
7063
7064
7065
7066
7067
7068
7069
7070
7071
7072
7073
7074
7075
7076
7077
7078
7079
7080
7081
7082
7083
7084
7085
7086
7087
7088
7089
7090
7091
7092
7093
7094
7095
7096
7097
7098
7099
7100
7101
7102
7103
7104
7105
7106
7107
7108
7109
7110
7111
7112
7113
7114
7115
7116
7117
7118
7119
7120
7121
7122
7123
7124
7125
7126
7127
7128
7129
7130
7131
7132
7133
7134
7135
7136
7137
7138
7139
7140
7141
7142
7143
7144
7145
7146
7147
7148
7149
7150
7151
7152
7153
7154
7155
7156
7157
7158
7159
7160
7161
7162
7163
7164
7165
7166
7167
7168
7169
7170
7171
7172
7173
7174
7175
7176
7177
7178
7179
7180
7181
7182
7183
7184
7185
7186
7187
7188
7189
7190
7191
7192
7193
7194
7195
7196
7197
7198
7199
7200
7201
7202
7203
7204
7205
7206
7207
7208
7209
7210
7211
7212
7213
7214
7215
7216
7217
7218
7219
7220
7221
7222
7223
7224
7225
7226
7227
7228
7229
7230
7231
7232
7233
7234
7235
7236
7237
7238
7239
7240
7241
7242
7243
7244
7245
7246
7247
7248
7249
7250
7251
7252
7253
7254
7255
7256
7257
7258
7259
7260
7261
7262
7263
7264
7265
7266
7267
7268
7269
7270
7271
7272
7273
7274
7275
7276
7277
7278
7279
7280
7281
7282
7283
7284
7285
7286
7287
7288
7289
7290
7291
7292
7293
7294
7295
7296
7297
7298
7299
7300
7301
7302
7303
7304
7305
7306
7307
7308
7309
7310
7311
7312
7313
7314
7315
7316
7317
7318
7319
7320
7321
7322
7323
7324
7325
7326
7327
7328
7329
7330
7331
7332
7333
7334
7335
7336
7337
7338
7339
7340
7341
7342
7343
7344
7345
7346
7347
7348
7349
7350
7351
7352
7353
7354
7355
7356
7357
7358
7359
7360
7361
7362
7363
7364
7365
7366
7367
7368
7369
7370
7371
7372
7373
7374
7375
7376
7377
7378
7379
7380
7381
7382
7383
7384
7385
7386
7387
7388
7389
7390
7391
7392
7393
7394
7395
7396
7397
7398
7399
7400
7401
7402
7403
7404
7405
7406
7407
7408
7409
7410
7411
7412
7413
7414
7415
7416
7417
7418
7419
7420
7421
7422
7423
7424
7425
7426
7427
7428
7429
7430
7431
7432
7433
7434
7435
7436
7437
7438
7439
7440
7441
7442
7443
7444
7445
7446
7447
7448
7449
7450
7451
7452
7453
7454
7455
7456
7457
7458
7459
7460
7461
7462
7463
7464
7465
7466
7467
7468
7469
7470
7471
7472
7473
7474
7475
7476
7477
7478
7479
7480
7481
7482
7483
7484
7485
7486
7487
7488
7489
7490
7491
7492
7493
7494
7495
7496
7497
7498
7499
7500
7501
7502
7503
7504
7505
7506
7507
7508
7509
7510
7511
7512
7513
7514
7515
7516
7517
7518
7519
7520
7521
7522
7523
7524
7525
7526
7527
7528
7529
7530
7531
7532
7533
7534
7535
7536
7537
7538
7539
7540
7541
7542
7543
7544
7545
7546
7547
7548
7549
7550
7551
7552
7553
7554
7555
7556
7557
7558
7559
7560
7561
7562
7563
7564
7565
7566
7567
7568
7569
7570
7571
7572
7573
7574
7575
7576
7577
7578
7579
7580
7581
7582
7583
7584
7585
7586
7587
7588
7589
7590
7591
7592
7593
7594
7595
7596
7597
7598
7599
7600
7601
7602
7603
7604
7605
7606
7607
7608
7609
7610
7611
7612
7613
7614
7615
7616
7617
7618
7619
7620
7621
7622
7623
7624
7625
7626
7627
7628
7629
7630
7631
7632
7633
7634
7635
7636
7637
7638
7639
7640
7641
7642
7643
7644
7645
7646
7647
7648
7649
7650
7651
7652
7653
7654
7655
7656
7657
7658
7659
7660
7661
7662
7663
7664
7665
7666
7667
7668
7669
7670
7671
7672
7673
7674
7675
7676
7677
7678
7679
7680
7681
7682
7683
7684
7685
7686
7687
7688
7689
7690
7691
7692
7693
7694
7695
7696
7697
7698
7699
7700
7701
7702
7703
7704
7705
7706
7707
7708
7709
7710
7711
7712
7713
7714
7715
7716
7717
7718
7719
7720
7721
7722
7723
7724
7725
7726
7727
7728
7729
7730
7731
7732
7733
7734
7735
7736
7737
7738
7739
7740
7741
7742
7743
7744
7745
7746
7747
7748
7749
7750
7751
7752
7753
7754
7755
7756
7757
7758
7759
7760
7761
7762
7763
7764
7765
7766
7767
7768
7769
7770
7771
7772
7773
7774
7775
7776
7777
7778
7779
7780
7781
7782
7783
7784
7785
7786
7787
7788
7789
7790
7791
7792
7793
7794
7795
7796
7797
7798
7799
7800
7801
7802
7803
7804
7805
7806
7807
7808
7809
7810
7811
7812
7813
7814
7815
7816
7817
7818
7819
7820
7821
7822
7823
7824
7825
7826
7827
7828
7829
7830
7831
7832
7833
7834
7835
7836
7837
7838
7839
7840
7841
7842
7843
7844
7845
7846
7847
7848
7849
7850
7851
7852
7853
7854
7855
7856
7857
7858
7859
7860
7861
7862
7863
7864
7865
7866
7867
7868
7869
7870
7871
7872
7873
7874
7875
7876
7877
7878
7879
7880
7881
7882
7883
7884
7885
7886
7887
7888
7889
7890
7891
7892
7893
7894
7895
7896
7897
7898
7899
7900
7901
7902
7903
7904
7905
7906
7907
7908
7909
7910
7911
7912
7913
7914
7915
7916
7917
7918
7919
7920
7921
7922
7923
7924
7925
7926
7927
7928
7929
7930
7931
7932
7933
7934
7935
7936
7937
7938
7939
7940
7941
7942
7943
7944
7945
7946
7947
7948
7949
7950
7951
7952
7953
7954
7955
7956
7957
7958
7959
7960
7961
7962
7963
7964
7965
7966
7967
7968
7969
7970
7971
7972
7973
7974
7975
7976
7977
7978
7979
7980
7981
7982
7983
7984
7985
7986
7987
7988
7989
7990
7991
7992
7993
7994
7995
7996
7997
7998
7999
8000
8001
8002
8003
8004
8005
8006
8007
8008
8009
8010
8011
8012
8013
8014
8015
8016
8017
8018
8019
8020
8021
8022
8023
8024
8025
8026
8027
8028
8029
8030
8031
8032
8033
8034
8035
8036
8037
8038
8039
8040
8041
8042
8043
8044
8045
8046
8047
8048
8049
8050
8051
8052
8053
8054
8055
8056
8057
8058
8059
8060
8061
8062
8063
8064
8065
8066
8067
8068
8069
8070
8071
8072
8073
8074
8075
8076
8077
8078
8079
8080
8081
8082
8083
8084
8085
8086
8087
8088
8089
8090
8091
8092
8093
8094
8095
8096
8097
8098
8099
8100
8101
8102
8103
8104
8105
8106
8107
8108
8109
8110
8111
8112
8113
8114
8115
8116
8117
8118
8119
8120
8121
8122
8123
8124
8125
8126
8127
8128
8129
8130
8131
8132
8133
8134
8135
8136
8137
8138
8139
8140
8141
8142
8143
8144
8145
8146
8147
8148
8149
8150
8151
8152
8153
8154
8155
8156
8157
8158
8159
8160
8161
8162
8163
8164
8165
8166
8167
8168
8169
8170
8171
8172
8173
8174
8175
8176
8177
8178
8179
8180
8181
8182
8183
8184
8185
8186
8187
8188
8189
8190
8191
8192
8193
8194
8195
8196
8197
8198
8199
8200
8201
8202
8203
8204
8205
8206
8207
8208
8209
8210
8211
8212
8213
8214
8215
8216
8217
8218
8219
8220
8221
8222
8223
8224
8225
8226
8227
8228
8229
8230
8231
8232
8233
8234
8235
8236
8237
8238
8239
8240
8241
8242
8243
8244
8245
8246
8247
8248
8249
8250
8251
8252
8253
8254
8255
8256
8257
8258
8259
8260
8261
8262
8263
8264
8265
8266
8267
8268
8269
8270
8271
8272
8273
8274
8275
8276
8277
8278
8279
8280
8281
8282
8283
8284
8285
8286
8287
8288
8289
8290
8291
8292
8293
8294
8295
8296
8297
8298
8299
8300
8301
8302
8303
8304
8305
8306
8307
8308
8309
8310
8311
8312
8313
8314
8315
8316
8317
8318
8319
8320
8321
8322
8323
8324
8325
8326
8327
8328
8329
8330
8331
8332
8333
8334
8335
8336
8337
8338
8339
8340
8341
8342
8343
8344
8345
8346
8347
8348
8349
8350
8351
8352
8353
8354
8355
8356
8357
8358
8359
8360
8361
8362
8363
8364
8365
8366
8367
8368
8369
8370
8371
8372
8373
8374
8375
8376
8377
8378
8379
8380
8381
8382
8383
8384
8385
8386
8387
8388
8389
8390
8391
8392
8393
8394
8395
8396
8397
8398
8399
8400
8401
8402
8403
8404
8405
8406
8407
8408
8409
8410
8411
8412
8413
8414
8415
8416
8417
8418
8419
8420
8421
8422
8423
8424
8425
8426
8427
8428
8429
8430
8431
8432
8433
8434
8435
8436
8437
8438
8439
8440
8441
8442
8443
8444
8445
8446
8447
8448
8449
8450
8451
8452
8453
8454
8455
8456
8457
8458
8459
8460
8461
8462
8463
8464
8465
8466
8467
8468
8469
8470
8471
8472
8473
8474
8475
8476
8477
8478
8479
8480
8481
8482
8483
8484
8485
8486
8487
8488
8489
8490
8491
8492
8493
8494
8495
8496
8497
8498
8499
8500
8501
8502
8503
8504
8505
8506
8507
8508
8509
8510
8511
8512
8513
8514
8515
8516
8517
8518
8519
8520
8521
8522
8523
8524
8525
8526
8527
8528
8529
8530
8531
8532
8533
8534
8535
8536
8537
8538
8539
8540
8541
8542
8543
8544
8545
8546
8547
8548
8549
8550
8551
8552
8553
8554
8555
8556
8557
8558
8559
8560
8561
8562
8563
8564
8565
8566
8567
8568
8569
8570
8571
8572
8573
8574
8575
8576
8577
8578
8579
8580
8581
8582
8583
8584
8585
8586
8587
8588
8589
8590
8591
8592
8593
8594
8595
8596
8597
8598
8599
8600
8601
8602
8603
8604
8605
8606
8607
8608
8609
8610
8611
8612
8613
8614
8615
8616
8617
8618
8619
8620
8621
8622
8623
8624
8625
8626
8627
8628
8629
8630
8631
8632
8633
8634
8635
8636
8637
8638
8639
8640
8641
8642
8643
8644
8645
8646
8647
8648
8649
8650
8651
8652
8653
8654
8655
8656
8657
8658
8659
8660
8661
8662
8663
8664
8665
8666
8667
8668
8669
8670
8671
8672
8673
8674
8675
8676
8677
8678
8679
8680
8681
8682
8683
8684
8685
8686
8687
8688
8689
8690
8691
8692
8693
8694
8695
8696
8697
8698
8699
8700
8701
8702
8703
8704
8705
8706
8707
8708
8709
8710
8711
8712
8713
8714
8715
8716
8717
8718
8719
8720
8721
8722
8723
8724
8725
8726
8727
8728
8729
8730
8731
8732
8733
8734
8735
8736
8737
8738
8739
8740
8741
8742
8743
8744
8745
8746
8747
8748
8749
8750
8751
8752
8753
8754
8755
8756
8757
8758
8759
8760
8761
8762
8763
8764
8765
8766
8767
8768
8769
8770
8771
8772
8773
8774
8775
8776
8777
8778
8779
8780
8781
8782
8783
8784
8785
8786
8787
8788
8789
8790
8791
8792
8793
8794
8795
8796
8797
8798
8799
8800
8801
8802
8803
8804
8805
8806
8807
8808
8809
8810
8811
8812
8813
8814
8815
8816
8817
8818
8819
8820
8821
8822
8823
8824
8825
8826
8827
8828
8829
8830
8831
8832
8833
8834
8835
8836
8837
8838
8839
8840
8841
8842
8843
8844
8845
8846
8847
8848
8849
8850
8851
8852
8853
8854
8855
8856
8857
8858
8859
8860
8861
8862
8863
8864
8865
8866
8867
8868
8869
8870
8871
8872
8873
8874
8875
8876
8877
8878
8879
8880
8881
8882
8883
8884
8885
8886
8887
8888
8889
8890
8891
8892
8893
8894
8895
8896
8897
8898
8899
8900
8901
8902
8903
8904
8905
8906
8907
8908
8909
8910
8911
8912
8913
8914
8915
8916
8917
8918
8919
8920
8921
8922
8923
8924
8925
8926
8927
8928
8929
8930
8931
8932
8933
8934
8935
8936
8937
8938
8939
8940
8941
8942
8943
8944
8945
8946
8947
8948
8949
8950
8951
8952
8953
8954
8955
8956
8957
8958
8959
8960
8961
8962
8963
8964
8965
8966
8967
8968
8969
8970
8971
8972
8973
8974
8975
8976
8977
8978
8979
8980
8981
8982
8983
8984
8985
8986
8987
8988
8989
8990
8991
8992
8993
8994
8995
8996
8997
8998
8999
9000
9001
9002
9003
9004
9005
9006
9007
9008
9009
9010
9011
9012
9013
9014
9015
9016
9017
9018
9019
9020
9021
9022
9023
9024
9025
9026
9027
9028
9029
9030
9031
9032
9033
9034
9035
9036
9037
9038
9039
9040
9041
9042
9043
9044
9045
9046
9047
9048
9049
9050
9051
9052
9053
9054
9055
9056
9057
9058
9059
9060
9061
9062
9063
9064
9065
9066
9067
9068
9069
9070
9071
9072
9073
9074
9075
9076
9077
9078
9079
9080
9081
9082
9083
9084
9085
9086
9087
9088
9089
9090
9091
9092
9093
9094
9095
9096
9097
9098
9099
9100
9101
9102
9103
9104
9105
9106
9107
9108
9109
9110
9111
9112
9113
9114
9115
9116
9117
9118
9119
9120
9121
9122
9123
9124
9125
9126
9127
9128
9129
9130
9131
9132
9133
9134
9135
9136
9137
9138
9139
9140
9141
9142
9143
9144
9145
9146
9147
9148
9149
9150
9151
9152
9153
9154
9155
9156
9157
9158
9159
9160
9161
9162
9163
9164
9165
9166
9167
9168
9169
9170
9171
9172
9173
9174
9175
9176
9177
9178
9179
9180
9181
9182
9183
9184
9185
9186
9187
9188
9189
9190
9191
9192
9193
9194
9195
9196
9197
9198
9199
9200
9201
9202
9203
9204
9205
9206
9207
9208
9209
9210
9211
9212
9213
9214
9215
9216
9217
9218
9219
9220
9221
9222
9223
9224
9225
9226
9227
9228
9229
9230
9231
9232
9233
9234
9235
9236
9237
9238
9239
9240
9241
9242
9243
9244
9245
9246
9247
9248
9249
9250
9251
9252
9253
9254
9255
9256
9257
9258
9259
9260
9261
9262
9263
9264
9265
9266
9267
9268
9269
9270
9271
9272
9273
9274
9275
9276
9277
9278
9279
9280
9281
9282
9283
9284
9285
9286
9287
9288
9289
9290
9291
9292
9293
9294
9295
9296
9297
9298
9299
9300
9301
9302
9303
9304
9305
9306
9307
9308
9309
9310
9311
9312
9313
9314
9315
9316
9317
9318
9319
9320
9321
9322
9323
9324
9325
9326
9327
9328
9329
9330
9331
9332
9333
9334
9335
9336
9337
9338
9339
9340
9341
9342
9343
9344
9345
9346
9347
9348
9349
9350
9351
9352
9353
9354
9355
9356
9357
9358
9359
9360
9361
9362
9363
9364
9365
9366
9367
9368
9369
9370
9371
9372
9373
9374
9375
9376
9377
9378
9379
9380
9381
9382
9383
9384
9385
9386
9387
9388
9389
9390
9391
9392
9393
9394
9395
9396
9397
9398
9399
9400
9401
9402
9403
9404
9405
9406
9407
9408
9409
9410
9411
9412
9413
9414
9415
9416
9417
9418
9419
9420
9421
9422
9423
9424
9425
9426
9427
9428
9429
9430
9431
9432
9433
9434
9435
9436
9437
9438
9439
9440
9441
9442
9443
9444
9445
9446
9447
9448
9449
9450
9451
9452
9453
9454
9455
9456
9457
9458
9459
9460
9461
9462
9463
9464
9465
9466
9467
9468
9469
9470
9471
9472
9473
9474
9475
9476
9477
9478
9479
9480
9481
9482
9483
9484
9485
9486
9487
9488
9489
9490
9491
9492
9493
9494
9495
9496
9497
9498
9499
9500
9501
9502
9503
9504
9505
9506
9507
9508
9509
9510
9511
9512
9513
9514
9515
9516
9517
9518
9519
9520
9521
9522
9523
9524
9525
9526
9527
9528
9529
9530
9531
9532
9533
9534
9535
9536
9537
9538
9539
9540
9541
9542
9543
9544
9545
9546
9547
9548
9549
9550
9551
9552
9553
9554
9555
9556
9557
9558
9559
9560
9561
9562
9563
9564
9565
9566
9567
9568
9569
9570
9571
9572
9573
9574
9575
9576
9577
9578
9579
9580
9581
9582
9583
9584
9585
9586
9587
9588
9589
9590
9591
9592
9593
9594
9595
9596
9597
9598
9599
9600
9601
9602
9603
9604
9605
9606
9607
9608
9609
9610
9611
9612
9613
9614
9615
9616
9617
9618
9619
9620
9621
9622
9623
9624
9625
9626
9627
9628
9629
9630
9631
9632
9633
9634
9635
9636
9637
9638
9639
9640
9641
9642
9643
9644
9645
9646
9647
9648
9649
9650
9651
9652
9653
9654
9655
9656
9657
9658
9659
9660
9661
9662
9663
9664
9665
9666
9667
9668
9669
9670
9671
9672
9673
9674
9675
9676
9677
9678
9679
9680
9681
9682
9683
9684
9685
9686
9687
9688
9689
9690
9691
9692
9693
9694
9695
9696
9697
9698
9699
9700
9701
9702
9703
9704
9705
9706
9707
9708
9709
9710
9711
9712
9713
9714
9715
9716
9717
9718
9719
9720
9721
9722
9723
9724
9725
9726
9727
9728
9729
9730
9731
9732
9733
9734
9735
9736
9737
9738
9739
9740
9741
9742
9743
9744
9745
9746
9747
9748
9749
9750
9751
9752
9753
9754
9755
9756
9757
9758
9759
9760
9761
9762
9763
9764
9765
9766
9767
9768
9769
9770
9771
9772
9773
9774
9775
9776
9777
9778
9779
9780
9781
9782
9783
9784
9785
9786
9787
9788
9789
9790
9791
9792
9793
9794
9795
9796
9797
9798
9799
9800
9801
9802
9803
9804
9805
9806
9807
9808
9809
9810
9811
9812
9813
9814
9815
9816
9817
9818
9819
9820
9821
9822
9823
9824
9825
9826
9827
9828
9829
9830
9831
9832
9833
9834
9835
9836
9837
9838
9839
9840
9841
9842
9843
9844
9845
9846
9847
9848
9849
9850
9851
9852
9853
9854
9855
9856
9857
9858
9859
9860
9861
9862
9863
9864
9865
9866
9867
9868
9869
9870
9871
9872
9873
9874
9875
9876
9877
9878
9879
9880
9881
9882
9883
9884
9885
9886
9887
9888
9889
9890
9891
9892
9893
9894
9895
9896
9897
9898
9899
9900
9901
9902
9903
9904
9905
9906
9907
9908
9909
9910
9911
9912
9913
9914
9915
9916
9917
9918
9919
9920
9921
9922
9923
9924
9925
9926
9927
9928
9929
9930
9931
9932
9933
9934
9935
9936
9937
9938
9939
9940
9941
9942
9943
9944
9945
9946
9947
9948
9949
9950
9951
9952
9953
9954
9955
9956
9957
9958
9959
9960
9961
9962
9963
9964
9965
9966
9967
9968
9969
9970
9971
9972
9973
9974
9975
9976
9977
9978
9979
9980
9981
9982
9983
9984
9985
9986
9987
9988
9989
9990
9991
9992
9993
9994
9995
9996
9997
9998
9999
10000
10001
10002
10003
10004
10005
10006
10007
10008
10009
10010
10011
10012
10013
10014
10015
10016
10017
10018
10019
10020
10021
10022
10023
10024
10025
10026
10027
10028
10029
10030
10031
10032
10033
10034
10035
10036
10037
10038
10039
10040
10041
10042
10043
10044
10045
10046
10047
10048
10049
10050
10051
10052
10053
10054
10055
10056
10057
10058
10059
10060
10061
10062
10063
10064
10065
10066
10067
10068
10069
10070
10071
10072
10073
10074
10075
10076
10077
10078
10079
10080
10081
10082
10083
10084
10085
10086
10087
10088
10089
10090
10091
10092
10093
10094
10095
10096
10097
10098
10099
10100
10101
10102
10103
10104
10105
10106
10107
10108
10109
10110
10111
10112
10113
10114
10115
10116
10117
10118
10119
10120
10121
10122
10123
10124
10125
10126
10127
10128
10129
10130
10131
10132
10133
10134
10135
10136
10137
10138
10139
10140
10141
10142
10143
10144
10145
10146
10147
10148
10149
10150
10151
10152
10153
10154
10155
10156
10157
10158
10159
10160
10161
10162
10163
10164
10165
10166
10167
10168
10169
10170
10171
10172
10173
10174
10175
10176
10177
10178
10179
10180
10181
10182
10183
10184
10185
10186
10187
10188
10189
10190
10191
10192
10193
10194
10195
10196
10197
10198
10199
10200
10201
10202
10203
10204
10205
10206
10207
10208
10209
10210
10211
10212
10213
10214
10215
10216
10217
10218
10219
10220
10221
10222
10223
10224
10225
10226
10227
10228
10229
10230
10231
10232
10233
10234
10235
10236
10237
10238
10239
10240
10241
10242
10243
10244
10245
10246
10247
10248
10249
10250
10251
10252
10253
10254
10255
10256
10257
10258
10259
10260
10261
10262
10263
10264
10265
10266
10267
10268
10269
10270
10271
10272
10273
10274
10275
10276
10277
10278
10279
10280
10281
10282
10283
10284
10285
10286
10287
10288
10289
10290
10291
10292
10293
10294
10295
10296
10297
10298
10299
10300
10301
10302
10303
10304
10305
10306
10307
10308
10309
10310
10311
10312
10313
10314
10315
10316
10317
10318
10319
10320
10321
10322
10323
10324
10325
10326
10327
10328
10329
10330
10331
10332
10333
10334
10335
10336
10337
10338
10339
10340
10341
10342
10343
10344
10345
10346
10347
10348
10349
10350
10351
10352
10353
10354
10355
10356
10357
10358
10359
10360
10361
10362
10363
10364
10365
10366
10367
10368
10369
10370
10371
10372
10373
10374
10375
10376
10377
10378
10379
10380
10381
10382
10383
10384
10385
10386
10387
10388
10389
10390
10391
10392
10393
10394
10395
10396
10397
10398
10399
10400
10401
10402
10403
10404
10405
10406
10407
10408
10409
10410
10411
10412
10413
10414
10415
10416
10417
10418
10419
10420
10421
10422
10423
10424
10425
10426
10427
10428
10429
10430
10431
10432
10433
10434
10435
10436
10437
10438
10439
10440
10441
10442
10443
10444
10445
10446
10447
10448
10449
10450
10451
10452
10453
10454
10455
10456
10457
10458
10459
10460
10461
10462
10463
10464
10465
10466
10467
10468
10469
10470
10471
10472
10473
10474
10475
10476
10477
10478
10479
10480
10481
10482
10483
10484
10485
10486
10487
10488
10489
10490
10491
10492
10493
10494
10495
10496
10497
10498
10499
10500
10501
10502
10503
10504
10505
10506
10507
10508
10509
10510
10511
10512
10513
10514
10515
10516
10517
10518
10519
10520
10521
10522
10523
10524
10525
10526
10527
10528
10529
10530
10531
10532
10533
10534
10535
10536
10537
10538
10539
10540
10541
10542
10543
10544
10545
10546
10547
10548
10549
10550
10551
10552
10553
10554
10555
10556
10557
10558
10559
10560
10561
10562
10563
10564
10565
10566
10567
10568
10569
10570
10571
10572
10573
10574
10575
10576
10577
10578
10579
10580
10581
10582
10583
10584
10585
10586
10587
10588
10589
10590
10591
10592
10593
10594
10595
10596
10597
10598
10599
10600
10601
10602
10603
10604
10605
10606
10607
10608
10609
10610
10611
10612
10613
10614
10615
10616
10617
10618
10619
10620
10621
10622
10623
10624
10625
10626
10627
10628
10629
10630
10631
10632
10633
10634
10635
10636
10637
10638
10639
10640
10641
10642
10643
10644
10645
10646
10647
10648
10649
10650
10651
10652
10653
10654
10655
10656
10657
10658
10659
10660
10661
10662
10663
10664
10665
10666
10667
10668
10669
10670
10671
10672
10673
10674
10675
10676
10677
10678
10679
10680
10681
10682
10683
10684
10685
10686
10687
10688
10689
10690
10691
10692
10693
10694
10695
10696
10697
10698
10699
10700
10701
10702
10703
10704
10705
10706
10707
10708
10709
10710
10711
10712
10713
10714
10715
10716
10717
10718
10719
10720
10721
10722
10723
10724
10725
10726
10727
10728
10729
10730
10731
10732
10733
10734
10735
10736
10737
10738
10739
10740
10741
10742
10743
10744
10745
10746
10747
10748
10749
10750
10751
10752
10753
10754
10755
10756
10757
10758
10759
10760
10761
10762
10763
10764
10765
10766
10767
10768
10769
10770
10771
10772
10773
10774
10775
10776
10777
10778
10779
10780
10781
10782
10783
10784
10785
10786
10787
10788
10789
10790
10791
10792
10793
10794
10795
10796
10797
10798
10799
10800
10801
10802
10803
10804
10805
10806
10807
10808
10809
10810
10811
10812
10813
10814
10815
10816
10817
10818
10819
10820
10821
10822
10823
10824
10825
10826
10827
10828
10829
10830
10831
10832
10833
10834
10835
10836
10837
10838
10839
10840
10841
10842
10843
10844
10845
10846
10847
10848
10849
10850
10851
10852
10853
10854
10855
10856
10857
10858
10859
10860
10861
10862
10863
10864
10865
10866
10867
10868
10869
10870
10871
10872
10873
10874
10875
10876
10877
10878
10879
10880
10881
10882
10883
10884
10885
10886
10887
10888
10889
10890
10891
10892
10893
10894
10895
10896
10897
10898
10899
10900
10901
10902
10903
10904
10905
10906
10907
10908
10909
10910
10911
10912
10913
10914
10915
10916
10917
10918
10919
10920
10921
10922
10923
10924
10925
10926
10927
10928
10929
10930
10931
10932
10933
10934
10935
10936
10937
10938
10939
10940
10941
10942
10943
10944
10945
10946
10947
10948
10949
10950
10951
10952
10953
10954
10955
10956
10957
10958
10959
10960
10961
10962
10963
10964
10965
10966
10967
10968
10969
10970
10971
10972
10973
10974
10975
10976
10977
10978
10979
10980
10981
10982
10983
10984
10985
10986
10987
10988
10989
10990
10991
10992
10993
10994
10995
10996
10997
10998
10999
11000
11001
11002
11003
11004
11005
11006
11007
11008
11009
11010
11011
11012
11013
11014
11015
11016
11017
11018
11019
11020
11021
11022
11023
11024
11025
11026
11027
11028
11029
11030
11031
11032
11033
11034
11035
11036
11037
11038
11039
11040
11041
11042
11043
11044
11045
11046
11047
11048
11049
11050
11051
11052
11053
11054
11055
11056
11057
11058
11059
11060
11061
11062
11063
11064
11065
11066
11067
11068
11069
11070
11071
11072
11073
11074
11075
11076
11077
11078
11079
11080
11081
11082
11083
11084
11085
11086
11087
11088
11089
11090
11091
11092
11093
11094
11095
11096
11097
11098
11099
11100
11101
11102
11103
11104
11105
11106
11107
11108
11109
11110
11111
11112
11113
11114
11115
11116
11117
11118
11119
11120
11121
11122
11123
11124
11125
11126
11127
11128
11129
11130
11131
11132
11133
11134
11135
11136
11137
11138
11139
11140
11141
11142
11143
11144
11145
11146
11147
11148
11149
11150
11151
11152
11153
11154
11155
11156
11157
11158
11159
11160
11161
11162
11163
11164
11165
11166
11167
11168
11169
11170
11171
11172
11173
11174
11175
11176
11177
11178
11179
11180
11181
11182
11183
11184
11185
11186
11187
11188
11189
11190
11191
11192
11193
11194
11195
11196
11197
11198
11199
11200
11201
11202
11203
11204
11205
11206
11207
11208
11209
11210
11211
11212
11213
11214
11215
11216
11217
11218
11219
11220
11221
11222
11223
11224
11225
11226
11227
11228
11229
11230
11231
11232
11233
11234
11235
11236
11237
11238
11239
11240
11241
11242
11243
11244
11245
11246
11247
11248
11249
11250
11251
11252
11253
11254
11255
11256
11257
11258
11259
11260
11261
11262
11263
11264
11265
11266
11267
11268
11269
11270
11271
11272
11273
11274
11275
11276
11277
11278
11279
11280
11281
11282
11283
11284
11285
11286
11287
11288
11289
11290
11291
11292
11293
11294
11295
11296
11297
11298
11299
11300
11301
11302
11303
11304
11305
11306
11307
11308
11309
11310
11311
11312
11313
11314
11315
11316
11317
11318
11319
11320
11321
11322
11323
11324
11325
11326
11327
11328
11329
11330
11331
11332
11333
11334
11335
11336
11337
11338
11339
11340
11341
11342
11343
11344
11345
11346
11347
11348
11349
11350
11351
11352
11353
11354
11355
11356
11357
11358
11359
11360
11361
11362
11363
11364
11365
11366
11367
11368
11369
11370
11371
11372
11373
11374
11375
11376
11377
11378
11379
11380
11381
11382
11383
11384
11385
11386
11387
11388
11389
11390
11391
11392
11393
11394
11395
11396
11397
11398
11399
11400
11401
11402
11403
11404
11405
11406
11407
11408
11409
11410
11411
11412
11413
11414
11415
11416
11417
11418
11419
11420
11421
11422
11423
11424
11425
11426
11427
11428
11429
11430
11431
11432
11433
11434
11435
11436
11437
11438
11439
11440
11441
11442
11443
11444
11445
11446
11447
11448
11449
11450
11451
11452
11453
11454
11455
11456
11457
11458
11459
11460
11461
11462
11463
11464
11465
11466
11467
11468
11469
11470
11471
11472
11473
11474
11475
11476
11477
11478
11479
11480
11481
11482
11483
11484
11485
11486
11487
11488
11489
11490
11491
11492
11493
11494
11495
11496
11497
11498
11499
11500
11501
11502
11503
11504
11505
11506
11507
11508
11509
11510
11511
11512
11513
11514
11515
11516
11517
11518
11519
11520
11521
11522
11523
11524
11525
11526
11527
11528
11529
11530
11531
11532
11533
11534
11535
11536
11537
11538
11539
11540
11541
11542
11543
11544
11545
11546
11547
11548
11549
11550
11551
11552
11553
11554
11555
11556
11557
11558
11559
11560
11561
11562
11563
11564
11565
11566
11567
11568
11569
11570
11571
11572
11573
11574
11575
11576
11577
11578
11579
11580
11581
11582
11583
11584
11585
11586
11587
11588
11589
11590
11591
11592
11593
11594
11595
11596
11597
11598
11599
11600
11601
11602
11603
11604
11605
11606
11607
11608
11609
11610
11611
11612
11613
11614
11615
11616
11617
11618
11619
11620
11621
11622
11623
11624
11625
11626
11627
11628
11629
11630
11631
11632
11633
11634
11635
11636
11637
11638
11639
11640
11641
11642
11643
11644
11645
11646
11647
11648
11649
11650
11651
11652
11653
11654
11655
11656
11657
11658
11659
11660
11661
11662
11663
11664
11665
11666
11667
11668
11669
11670
11671
11672
11673
11674
11675
11676
11677
11678
11679
11680
11681
11682
11683
11684
11685
11686
11687
11688
11689
11690
11691
11692
11693
11694
11695
11696
11697
11698
11699
11700
11701
11702
11703
11704
11705
11706
11707
11708
11709
11710
11711
11712
11713
11714
11715
11716
11717
11718
11719
11720
11721
11722
11723
11724
11725
11726
11727
11728
11729
11730
11731
11732
11733
11734
11735
11736
11737
11738
11739
11740
11741
11742
11743
11744
11745
11746
11747
11748
11749
11750
11751
11752
11753
11754
11755
11756
11757
11758
11759
11760
11761
11762
11763
11764
11765
11766
11767
11768
11769
11770
11771
11772
11773
11774
11775
11776
11777
11778
11779
11780
11781
11782
11783
11784
11785
11786
11787
11788
11789
11790
11791
11792
11793
11794
11795
11796
11797
11798
11799
11800
11801
11802
11803
11804
11805
11806
11807
11808
11809
11810
11811
11812
11813
11814
11815
11816
11817
11818
11819
11820
11821
11822
11823
11824
11825
11826
11827
11828
11829
11830
11831
11832
11833
11834
11835
11836
11837
11838
11839
11840
11841
11842
11843
11844
11845
11846
11847
11848
11849
11850
11851
11852
11853
11854
11855
11856
11857
11858
11859
11860
11861
11862
11863
11864
11865
11866
11867
11868
11869
11870
11871
11872
11873
11874
11875
11876
11877
11878
11879
11880
11881
11882
11883
11884
11885
11886
11887
11888
11889
11890
11891
11892
11893
11894
11895
11896
11897
11898
11899
11900
11901
11902
11903
11904
11905
11906
11907
11908
11909
11910
11911
11912
11913
11914
11915
11916
11917
11918
11919
11920
11921
11922
11923
11924
11925
11926
11927
11928
11929
11930
11931
11932
11933
11934
11935
11936
11937
11938
11939
11940
11941
11942
11943
11944
11945
11946
11947
11948
11949
11950
11951
11952
11953
11954
11955
11956
11957
11958
11959
11960
11961
11962
11963
11964
11965
11966
11967
11968
11969
11970
11971
11972
11973
11974
11975
11976
11977
11978
11979
11980
11981
11982
11983
11984
11985
11986
11987
11988
11989
11990
11991
11992
11993
11994
11995
11996
11997
11998
11999
12000
12001
12002
12003
12004
12005
12006
12007
12008
12009
12010
12011
12012
12013
12014
12015
12016
12017
12018
12019
12020
12021
12022
12023
12024
12025
12026
12027
12028
12029
12030
12031
12032
12033
12034
12035
12036
12037
12038
12039
12040
12041
12042
12043
12044
12045
12046
12047
12048
12049
12050
12051
12052
12053
12054
12055
12056
12057
12058
12059
12060
12061
12062
12063
12064
12065
12066
12067
12068
12069
12070
12071
12072
12073
12074
12075
12076
12077
12078
12079
12080
12081
12082
12083
12084
12085
12086
12087
12088
12089
12090
12091
12092
12093
12094
12095
12096
12097
12098
12099
12100
12101
12102
12103
12104
12105
12106
12107
12108
12109
12110
12111
12112
12113
12114
12115
12116
12117
12118
12119
12120
12121
12122
12123
12124
12125
12126
12127
12128
12129
12130
12131
12132
12133
12134
12135
12136
12137
12138
12139
12140
12141
12142
12143
12144
12145
12146
12147
12148
12149
12150
12151
12152
12153
12154
12155
12156
12157
12158
12159
12160
12161
12162
12163
12164
12165
12166
12167
12168
12169
12170
12171
12172
12173
12174
12175
12176
12177
12178
12179
12180
12181
12182
12183
12184
12185
12186
12187
12188
12189
12190
12191
12192
12193
12194
12195
12196
12197
12198
12199
12200
12201
12202
12203
12204
12205
12206
12207
12208
12209
12210
12211
12212
12213
12214
12215
12216
12217
12218
12219
12220
12221
12222
12223
12224
12225
12226
12227
12228
12229
12230
12231
12232
12233
12234
12235
12236
12237
12238
12239
12240
12241
12242
12243
12244
12245
12246
12247
12248
12249
12250
12251
12252
12253
12254
12255
12256
12257
12258
12259
12260
12261
12262
12263
12264
12265
12266
12267
12268
12269
12270
12271
12272
12273
12274
12275
12276
12277
12278
12279
12280
12281
12282
12283
12284
12285
12286
12287
12288
12289
12290
12291
12292
12293
12294
12295
12296
12297
12298
12299
12300
12301
12302
12303
12304
12305
12306
12307
12308
12309
12310
12311
12312
12313
12314
12315
12316
12317
12318
12319
12320
12321
12322
12323
12324
12325
12326
12327
12328
12329
12330
12331
12332
12333
12334
12335
12336
12337
12338
12339
12340
12341
12342
12343
12344
12345
12346
12347
12348
12349
12350
12351
12352
12353
12354
12355
12356
12357
12358
12359
12360
12361
12362
12363
12364
12365
12366
12367
12368
12369
12370
12371
12372
12373
12374
12375
12376
12377
12378
12379
12380
12381
12382
12383
12384
12385
12386
12387
12388
12389
12390
12391
12392
12393
12394
12395
12396
12397
12398
12399
12400
12401
12402
12403
12404
12405
12406
12407
12408
12409
12410
12411
12412
12413
12414
12415
12416
12417
12418
12419
12420
12421
12422
12423
12424
12425
12426
12427
12428
12429
12430
12431
12432
12433
12434
12435
12436
12437
12438
12439
12440
12441
12442
12443
12444
12445
12446
12447
12448
12449
12450
12451
12452
12453
12454
12455
12456
12457
12458
12459
12460
12461
12462
12463
12464
12465
12466
12467
12468
12469
12470
12471
12472
12473
12474
12475
12476
12477
12478
12479
12480
12481
12482
12483
12484
12485
12486
12487
12488
12489
12490
12491
12492
12493
12494
12495
12496
12497
12498
12499
12500
12501
12502
12503
12504
12505
12506
12507
12508
12509
12510
12511
12512
12513
12514
12515
12516
12517
12518
12519
12520
12521
12522
12523
12524
12525
12526
12527
12528
12529
12530
12531
12532
12533
12534
12535
12536
12537
12538
12539
12540
12541
12542
12543
12544
12545
12546
12547
12548
12549
12550
12551
12552
12553
12554
12555
12556
12557
12558
12559
12560
12561
12562
12563
12564
12565
12566
12567
12568
12569
12570
12571
12572
12573
12574
12575
12576
12577
12578
12579
12580
12581
12582
12583
12584
12585
12586
12587
12588
12589
12590
12591
12592
12593
12594
12595
12596
12597
12598
12599
12600
12601
12602
12603
12604
12605
12606
12607
12608
12609
12610
12611
12612
12613
12614
12615
12616
12617
12618
12619
12620
12621
12622
12623
12624
12625
12626
12627
12628
12629
12630
12631
12632
12633
12634
12635
12636
12637
12638
12639
12640
12641
12642
12643
12644
12645
12646
12647
12648
12649
12650
12651
12652
12653
12654
12655
12656
12657
12658
12659
12660
12661
12662
12663
12664
12665
12666
12667
12668
12669
12670
12671
12672
12673
12674
12675
12676
12677
12678
12679
12680
12681
12682
12683
12684
12685
12686
12687
12688
12689
12690
12691
12692
12693
12694
12695
12696
12697
12698
12699
12700
12701
12702
12703
12704
12705
12706
12707
12708
12709
12710
12711
12712
12713
12714
12715
12716
12717
12718
12719
12720
12721
12722
12723
12724
12725
12726
12727
12728
12729
12730
12731
12732
12733
12734
12735
12736
12737
12738
12739
12740
12741
12742
12743
12744
12745
12746
12747
12748
12749
12750
12751
12752
12753
12754
12755
12756
12757
12758
12759
12760
12761
12762
12763
12764
12765
12766
12767
12768
12769
12770
12771
12772
12773
12774
12775
12776
12777
12778
12779
12780
12781
12782
12783
12784
12785
12786
12787
12788
12789
12790
12791
12792
12793
12794
12795
12796
12797
12798
12799
12800
12801
12802
12803
12804
12805
12806
12807
12808
12809
12810
12811
12812
12813
12814
12815
12816
12817
12818
12819
12820
12821
12822
12823
12824
12825
12826
12827
12828
12829
12830
12831
12832
12833
12834
12835
12836
12837
12838
12839
12840
12841
12842
12843
12844
12845
12846
12847
12848
12849
12850
12851
12852
12853
12854
12855
12856
12857
12858
12859
12860
12861
12862
12863
12864
12865
12866
12867
12868
12869
12870
12871
12872
12873
12874
12875
12876
12877
12878
12879
12880
12881
12882
12883
12884
12885
12886
12887
12888
12889
12890
12891
12892
12893
12894
12895
12896
12897
12898
12899
12900
12901
12902
12903
12904
12905
12906
12907
12908
12909
12910
12911
12912
12913
12914
12915
12916
12917
12918
12919
12920
12921
12922
12923
12924
12925
12926
12927
12928
12929
12930
12931
12932
12933
12934
12935
12936
12937
12938
12939
12940
12941
12942
12943
12944
12945
12946
12947
12948
12949
12950
12951
12952
12953
12954
12955
12956
12957
12958
12959
12960
12961
12962
12963
12964
12965
12966
12967
12968
12969
12970
12971
12972
12973
12974
12975
12976
12977
12978
12979
12980
12981
12982
12983
12984
12985
12986
12987
12988
12989
12990
12991
12992
12993
12994
12995
12996
12997
12998
12999
13000
13001
13002
13003
13004
13005
13006
13007
13008
13009
13010
13011
13012
13013
13014
13015
13016
13017
13018
13019
13020
13021
13022
13023
13024
13025
13026
13027
13028
13029
13030
13031
13032
13033
13034
13035
13036
13037
13038
13039
13040
13041
13042
13043
13044
13045
13046
13047
13048
13049
13050
13051
13052
13053
13054
13055
13056
13057
13058
13059
13060
13061
13062
13063
13064
13065
13066
13067
13068
13069
13070
13071
13072
13073
13074
13075
13076
13077
13078
13079
13080
13081
13082
13083
13084
13085
13086
13087
13088
13089
13090
13091
13092
13093
13094
13095
13096
13097
13098
13099
13100
13101
13102
13103
13104
13105
13106
13107
13108
13109
13110
13111
13112
13113
13114
13115
13116
13117
13118
13119
13120
13121
13122
13123
13124
13125
13126
13127
13128
13129
13130
13131
13132
13133
13134
13135
13136
13137
13138
13139
13140
13141
13142
13143
13144
13145
13146
13147
13148
13149
13150
13151
13152
13153
13154
13155
13156
13157
13158
13159
13160
13161
13162
13163
13164
13165
13166
13167
13168
13169
13170
13171
13172
13173
13174
13175
13176
13177
13178
13179
13180
13181
13182
13183
13184
13185
13186
13187
13188
13189
13190
13191
13192
13193
13194
13195
13196
13197
13198
13199
13200
13201
13202
13203
13204
13205
13206
13207
13208
13209
13210
13211
13212
13213
13214
13215
13216
13217
13218
13219
13220
13221
13222
13223
13224
13225
13226
13227
13228
13229
13230
13231
13232
13233
13234
13235
13236
13237
13238
13239
13240
13241
13242
13243
13244
13245
13246
13247
13248
13249
13250
13251
13252
13253
13254
13255
13256
13257
13258
13259
13260
13261
13262
13263
13264
13265
13266
13267
13268
13269
13270
13271
13272
13273
13274
13275
13276
13277
13278
13279
13280
13281
13282
13283
13284
13285
13286
13287
13288
13289
13290
13291
13292
13293
13294
13295
13296
13297
13298
13299
13300
13301
13302
13303
13304
13305
13306
13307
13308
13309
13310
13311
13312
13313
13314
13315
13316
13317
13318
13319
13320
13321
13322
13323
13324
13325
13326
13327
13328
13329
13330
13331
13332
13333
13334
13335
13336
13337
13338
13339
13340
13341
13342
13343
13344
13345
13346
13347
13348
13349
13350
13351
13352
13353
13354
13355
13356
13357
13358
13359
13360
13361
13362
13363
13364
13365
13366
13367
13368
13369
13370
13371
13372
13373
13374
13375
13376
13377
13378
13379
13380
13381
13382
13383
13384
13385
13386
13387
13388
13389
13390
13391
13392
13393
13394
13395
13396
13397
13398
13399
13400
13401
13402
13403
13404
13405
13406
13407
13408
13409
13410
13411
13412
13413
13414
13415
13416
13417
13418
13419
13420
13421
13422
13423
13424
13425
13426
13427
13428
13429
13430
13431
13432
13433
13434
13435
13436
13437
13438
13439
13440
13441
13442
13443
13444
13445
13446
13447
13448
13449
13450
13451
13452
13453
13454
13455
13456
13457
13458
13459
13460
13461
13462
13463
13464
13465
13466
13467
13468
13469
13470
13471
13472
13473
13474
13475
13476
13477
13478
13479
13480
13481
13482
13483
13484
13485
13486
13487
13488
13489
13490
13491
13492
13493
13494
13495
13496
13497
13498
13499
13500
13501
13502
13503
13504
13505
13506
13507
13508
13509
13510
13511
13512
13513
13514
13515
13516
13517
13518
13519
13520
13521
13522
13523
13524
13525
13526
13527
13528
13529
13530
13531
13532
13533
13534
13535
13536
13537
13538
13539
13540
13541
13542
13543
13544
13545
13546
13547
13548
13549
13550
13551
13552
13553
13554
13555
13556
13557
13558
13559
13560
13561
13562
13563
13564
13565
13566
13567
13568
13569
13570
13571
13572
13573
13574
13575
13576
13577
13578
13579
13580
13581
13582
13583
13584
13585
13586
13587
13588
13589
13590
13591
13592
13593
13594
13595
13596
13597
13598
13599
13600
13601
13602
13603
13604
13605
13606
13607
13608
13609
13610
13611
13612
13613
13614
13615
13616
13617
13618
13619
13620
13621
13622
13623
13624
13625
13626
13627
13628
13629
13630
13631
13632
13633
13634
13635
13636
13637
13638
13639
13640
13641
13642
13643
13644
13645
13646
13647
13648
13649
13650
13651
13652
13653
13654
13655
13656
13657
13658
13659
13660
13661
13662
13663
13664
13665
13666
13667
13668
13669
13670
13671
13672
13673
13674
13675
13676
13677
13678
13679
13680
13681
13682
13683
13684
13685
13686
13687
13688
13689
13690
13691
13692
13693
13694
13695
13696
13697
13698
13699
13700
13701
13702
13703
13704
13705
13706
13707
13708
13709
13710
13711
13712
13713
13714
13715
13716
13717
13718
13719
13720
13721
13722
13723
13724
13725
13726
13727
13728
13729
13730
13731
13732
13733
13734
13735
13736
13737
13738
13739
13740
13741
13742
13743
13744
13745
13746
13747
13748
13749
13750
13751
13752
13753
13754
13755
13756
13757
13758
13759
13760
13761
13762
13763
13764
13765
13766
13767
13768
13769
13770
13771
13772
13773
13774
13775
13776
13777
13778
13779
13780
13781
13782
13783
13784
13785
13786
13787
13788
13789
13790
13791
13792
13793
13794
13795
13796
13797
13798
13799
13800
13801
13802
13803
13804
13805
13806
13807
13808
13809
13810
13811
13812
13813
13814
13815
13816
13817
13818
13819
13820
13821
13822
13823
13824
13825
13826
13827
13828
13829
13830
13831
13832
13833
13834
13835
13836
13837
13838
13839
13840
13841
13842
13843
13844
13845
13846
13847
13848
13849
13850
13851
13852
13853
13854
13855
13856
13857
13858
13859
13860
13861
13862
13863
13864
13865
13866
13867
13868
13869
13870
13871
13872
13873
13874
13875
13876
13877
13878
13879
13880
13881
13882
13883
13884
13885
13886
13887
13888
13889
13890
13891
13892
13893
13894
13895
13896
13897
13898
13899
13900
13901
13902
13903
13904
13905
13906
13907
13908
13909
13910
13911
13912
13913
13914
13915
13916
13917
13918
13919
13920
13921
13922
13923
13924
13925
13926
13927
13928
13929
13930
13931
13932
13933
13934
13935
13936
13937
13938
13939
13940
13941
13942
13943
13944
13945
13946
13947
13948
13949
13950
13951
13952
13953
13954
13955
13956
13957
13958
13959
13960
13961
13962
13963
13964
13965
13966
13967
13968
13969
13970
13971
13972
13973
13974
13975
13976
13977
13978
13979
13980
13981
13982
13983
13984
13985
13986
13987
13988
13989
13990
13991
13992
13993
13994
13995
13996
13997
13998
13999
14000
14001
14002
14003
14004
14005
14006
14007
14008
14009
14010
14011
14012
14013
14014
14015
14016
14017
14018
14019
14020
14021
14022
14023
14024
14025
14026
14027
14028
14029
14030
14031
14032
14033
14034
14035
14036
14037
14038
14039
14040
14041
14042
14043
14044
14045
14046
14047
14048
14049
14050
14051
14052
14053
14054
14055
14056
14057
14058
14059
14060
14061
14062
14063
14064
14065
14066
14067
14068
14069
14070
14071
14072
14073
14074
14075
14076
14077
14078
14079
14080
14081
14082
14083
14084
14085
14086
14087
14088
14089
14090
14091
14092
14093
14094
14095
14096
14097
14098
14099
14100
14101
14102
14103
14104
14105
14106
14107
14108
14109
14110
14111
14112
14113
14114
14115
14116
14117
14118
14119
14120
14121
14122
14123
14124
14125
14126
14127
14128
14129
14130
14131
14132
14133
14134
14135
14136
14137
14138
14139
14140
14141
14142
14143
14144
14145
14146
14147
14148
14149
14150
14151
14152
14153
14154
14155
14156
14157
14158
14159
14160
14161
14162
14163
14164
14165
14166
14167
14168
14169
14170
14171
14172
14173
14174
14175
14176
14177
14178
14179
14180
14181
14182
14183
14184
14185
14186
14187
14188
14189
14190
14191
14192
14193
14194
14195
14196
14197
14198
14199
14200
14201
14202
14203
14204
14205
14206
14207
14208
14209
14210
14211
14212
14213
14214
14215
14216
14217
14218
14219
14220
14221
14222
14223
14224
14225
14226
14227
14228
14229
14230
14231
14232
14233
14234
14235
14236
14237
14238
14239
14240
14241
14242
14243
14244
14245
14246
14247
14248
14249
14250
14251
14252
14253
14254
14255
14256
14257
14258
14259
14260
14261
14262
14263
14264
14265
14266
14267
14268
14269
14270
14271
14272
14273
14274
14275
14276
14277
14278
14279
14280
14281
14282
14283
14284
14285
14286
14287
14288
14289
14290
14291
14292
14293
14294
14295
14296
14297
14298
14299
14300
14301
14302
14303
14304
14305
14306
14307
14308
14309
14310
14311
14312
14313
14314
14315
14316
14317
14318
14319
14320
14321
14322
14323
14324
14325
14326
14327
14328
14329
14330
14331
14332
14333
14334
14335
14336
14337
14338
14339
14340
14341
14342
14343
14344
14345
14346
14347
14348
14349
14350
14351
14352
14353
14354
14355
14356
14357
14358
14359
14360
14361
14362
14363
14364
14365
14366
14367
14368
14369
14370
14371
14372
14373
14374
14375
14376
14377
14378
14379
14380
14381
14382
14383
14384
14385
14386
14387
14388
14389
14390
14391
14392
14393
14394
14395
14396
14397
14398
14399
14400
14401
14402
14403
14404
14405
14406
14407
14408
14409
14410
14411
14412
14413
14414
14415
14416
14417
14418
14419
14420
14421
14422
14423
14424
14425
14426
14427
14428
14429
14430
14431
14432
14433
14434
14435
14436
14437
14438
14439
14440
14441
14442
14443
14444
14445
14446
14447
14448
14449
14450
14451
14452
14453
14454
14455
14456
14457
14458
14459
14460
14461
14462
14463
14464
14465
14466
14467
14468
14469
14470
14471
14472
14473
14474
14475
14476
14477
14478
14479
14480
14481
14482
14483
14484
14485
14486
14487
14488
14489
14490
14491
14492
14493
14494
14495
14496
14497
14498
14499
14500
14501
14502
14503
14504
14505
14506
14507
14508
14509
14510
14511
14512
14513
14514
14515
14516
14517
14518
14519
14520
14521
14522
14523
14524
14525
14526
14527
14528
14529
14530
14531
14532
14533
14534
14535
14536
14537
14538
14539
14540
14541
14542
14543
14544
14545
14546
14547
14548
14549
14550
14551
14552
14553
14554
14555
14556
14557
14558
14559
14560
14561
14562
14563
14564
14565
14566
14567
14568
14569
14570
14571
14572
14573
14574
14575
14576
14577
14578
14579
14580
14581
14582
14583
14584
14585
14586
14587
14588
14589
14590
14591
14592
14593
14594
14595
14596
14597
14598
14599
14600
14601
14602
14603
14604
14605
14606
14607
14608
14609
14610
14611
14612
14613
14614
14615
14616
14617
14618
14619
14620
14621
14622
14623
14624
14625
14626
14627
14628
14629
14630
14631
14632
14633
14634
14635
14636
14637
14638
14639
14640
14641
14642
14643
14644
14645
14646
14647
14648
14649
14650
14651
14652
14653
14654
14655
14656
14657
14658
14659
14660
14661
14662
14663
14664
14665
14666
14667
14668
14669
14670
14671
14672
14673
14674
14675
14676
14677
14678
14679
14680
14681
14682
14683
14684
14685
14686
14687
14688
14689
14690
14691
14692
14693
14694
14695
14696
14697
14698
14699
14700
14701
14702
14703
14704
14705
14706
14707
14708
14709
14710
14711
14712
14713
14714
14715
14716
14717
14718
14719
14720
14721
14722
14723
14724
14725
14726
14727
14728
14729
14730
14731
14732
14733
14734
14735
14736
14737
14738
14739
14740
14741
14742
14743
14744
14745
14746
14747
14748
14749
14750
14751
14752
14753
14754
14755
14756
14757
14758
14759
14760
14761
14762
14763
14764
14765
14766
14767
14768
14769
14770
14771
14772
14773
14774
14775
14776
14777
14778
14779
14780
14781
14782
14783
14784
14785
14786
14787
14788
14789
14790
14791
14792
14793
14794
14795
14796
14797
14798
14799
14800
14801
14802
14803
14804
14805
14806
14807
14808
14809
14810
14811
14812
14813
14814
14815
14816
14817
14818
14819
14820
14821
14822
14823
14824
14825
14826
14827
14828
14829
14830
14831
14832
14833
14834
14835
14836
14837
14838
14839
14840
14841
14842
14843
14844
14845
14846
14847
14848
14849
14850
14851
14852
14853
14854
14855
14856
14857
14858
14859
14860
14861
14862
14863
14864
14865
14866
14867
14868
14869
14870
14871
14872
14873
14874
14875
14876
14877
14878
14879
14880
14881
14882
14883
14884
14885
14886
14887
14888
14889
14890
14891
14892
14893
14894
14895
14896
14897
14898
14899
14900
14901
14902
14903
14904
14905
14906
14907
14908
14909
14910
14911
14912
14913
14914
14915
14916
14917
14918
14919
14920
14921
14922
14923
14924
14925
14926
14927
14928
14929
14930
14931
14932
14933
14934
14935
14936
14937
14938
14939
14940
14941
14942
14943
14944
14945
14946
14947
14948
14949
14950
14951
14952
14953
14954
14955
14956
14957
14958
14959
14960
14961
14962
14963
14964
14965
14966
14967
14968
14969
14970
14971
14972
14973
14974
14975
14976
14977
14978
14979
14980
14981
14982
14983
14984
14985
14986
14987
14988
14989
14990
14991
14992
14993
14994
14995
14996
14997
14998
14999
15000
15001
15002
15003
15004
15005
15006
15007
15008
15009
15010
15011
15012
15013
15014
15015
15016
15017
15018
15019
15020
15021
15022
15023
15024
15025
15026
15027
15028
15029
15030
15031
15032
15033
15034
15035
15036
15037
15038
15039
15040
15041
15042
15043
15044
15045
15046
15047
15048
15049
15050
15051
15052
15053
15054
15055
15056
15057
15058
15059
15060
15061
15062
15063
15064
15065
15066
15067
15068
15069
15070
15071
15072
15073
15074
15075
15076
15077
15078
15079
15080
15081
15082
15083
15084
15085
15086
15087
15088
15089
15090
15091
15092
15093
15094
15095
15096
15097
15098
15099
15100
15101
15102
15103
15104
15105
15106
15107
15108
15109
15110
15111
15112
15113
15114
15115
15116
15117
15118
15119
15120
15121
15122
15123
15124
15125
15126
15127
15128
15129
15130
15131
15132
15133
15134
15135
15136
15137
15138
15139
15140
15141
15142
15143
15144
15145
15146
15147
15148
15149
15150
15151
15152
15153
15154
15155
15156
15157
15158
15159
15160
15161
15162
15163
15164
15165
15166
15167
15168
15169
15170
15171
15172
15173
15174
15175
15176
15177
15178
15179
15180
15181
15182
15183
15184
15185
15186
15187
15188
15189
15190
15191
15192
15193
15194
15195
15196
15197
15198
15199
15200
15201
15202
15203
15204
15205
15206
15207
15208
15209
15210
15211
15212
15213
15214
15215
15216
15217
15218
15219
15220
15221
15222
15223
15224
15225
15226
15227
15228
15229
15230
15231
15232
15233
15234
15235
15236
15237
15238
15239
15240
15241
15242
15243
15244
15245
15246
15247
15248
15249
15250
15251
15252
15253
15254
15255
15256
15257
15258
15259
15260
15261
15262
15263
15264
15265
15266
15267
15268
15269
15270
15271
15272
15273
15274
15275
15276
15277
15278
15279
15280
15281
15282
15283
15284
15285
15286
15287
15288
15289
15290
15291
15292
15293
15294
15295
15296
15297
15298
15299
15300
15301
15302
15303
15304
15305
15306
15307
15308
15309
15310
15311
15312
15313
15314
15315
15316
15317
15318
15319
15320
15321
15322
15323
15324
15325
15326
15327
15328
15329
15330
15331
15332
15333
15334
15335
15336
15337
15338
15339
15340
15341
15342
15343
15344
15345
15346
15347
15348
15349
15350
15351
15352
15353
15354
15355
15356
15357
15358
15359
15360
15361
15362
15363
15364
15365
15366
15367
15368
15369
15370
15371
15372
15373
15374
15375
15376
15377
15378
15379
15380
15381
15382
15383
15384
15385
15386
15387
15388
15389
15390
15391
15392
15393
15394
15395
15396
15397
15398
15399
15400
15401
15402
15403
15404
15405
15406
15407
15408
15409
15410
15411
15412
15413
15414
15415
15416
15417
15418
15419
15420
15421
15422
15423
15424
15425
15426
15427
15428
15429
15430
15431
15432
15433
15434
15435
15436
15437
15438
15439
15440
15441
15442
15443
15444
15445
15446
15447
15448
15449
15450
15451
15452
15453
15454
15455
15456
15457
15458
15459
15460
15461
15462
15463
15464
15465
15466
15467
15468
15469
15470
15471
15472
15473
15474
15475
15476
15477
15478
15479
15480
15481
15482
15483
15484
15485
15486
15487
15488
15489
15490
15491
15492
15493
15494
15495
15496
15497
15498
15499
15500
15501
15502
15503
15504
15505
15506
15507
15508
15509
15510
15511
15512
15513
15514
15515
15516
15517
15518
15519
15520
15521
15522
15523
15524
15525
15526
15527
15528
15529
15530
15531
15532
15533
15534
15535
15536
15537
15538
15539
15540
15541
15542
15543
15544
15545
15546
15547
15548
15549
15550
15551
15552
15553
15554
15555
15556
15557
15558
15559
15560
15561
15562
15563
15564
15565
15566
15567
15568
15569
15570
15571
15572
15573
15574
15575
15576
15577
15578
15579
15580
15581
15582
15583
15584
15585
15586
15587
15588
15589
15590
15591
15592
15593
15594
15595
15596
15597
15598
15599
15600
15601
15602
15603
15604
15605
15606
15607
15608
15609
15610
15611
15612
15613
15614
15615
15616
15617
15618
15619
15620
15621
15622
15623
15624
15625
15626
15627
15628
15629
15630
15631
15632
15633
15634
15635
15636
15637
15638
15639
15640
15641
15642
15643
15644
15645
15646
15647
15648
15649
15650
15651
15652
15653
15654
15655
15656
15657
15658
15659
15660
15661
15662
15663
15664
15665
15666
15667
15668
15669
15670
15671
15672
15673
15674
15675
15676
15677
15678
15679
15680
15681
15682
15683
15684
15685
15686
15687
15688
15689
15690
15691
15692
15693
15694
15695
15696
15697
15698
15699
15700
15701
15702
15703
15704
15705
15706
15707
15708
15709
15710
15711
15712
15713
15714
15715
15716
15717
15718
15719
15720
15721
15722
15723
15724
15725
15726
15727
15728
15729
15730
15731
15732
15733
15734
15735
15736
15737
15738
15739
15740
15741
15742
15743
15744
15745
15746
15747
15748
15749
15750
15751
15752
15753
15754
15755
15756
15757
15758
15759
15760
15761
15762
15763
15764
15765
15766
15767
15768
15769
15770
15771
15772
15773
15774
15775
15776
15777
15778
15779
15780
15781
15782
15783
15784
15785
15786
15787
15788
15789
15790
15791
15792
15793
15794
15795
15796
15797
15798
15799
15800
15801
15802
15803
15804
15805
15806
15807
15808
15809
15810
15811
15812
15813
15814
15815
15816
15817
15818
15819
15820
15821
15822
15823
15824
15825
15826
15827
15828
15829
15830
15831
15832
15833
15834
15835
15836
15837
15838
15839
15840
15841
15842
15843
15844
15845
15846
15847
15848
15849
15850
15851
15852
15853
15854
15855
15856
15857
15858
15859
15860
15861
15862
15863
15864
15865
15866
15867
15868
15869
15870
15871
15872
15873
15874
15875
15876
15877
15878
15879
15880
15881
15882
15883
15884
15885
15886
15887
15888
15889
15890
15891
15892
15893
15894
15895
15896
15897
15898
15899
15900
15901
15902
15903
15904
15905
15906
15907
15908
15909
15910
15911
15912
15913
15914
15915
15916
15917
15918
15919
15920
15921
15922
15923
15924
15925
15926
15927
15928
15929
15930
15931
15932
15933
15934
15935
15936
15937
15938
15939
15940
15941
15942
15943
15944
15945
15946
15947
15948
15949
15950
15951
15952
15953
15954
15955
15956
15957
15958
15959
15960
15961
15962
15963
15964
15965
15966
15967
15968
15969
15970
15971
15972
15973
15974
15975
15976
15977
15978
15979
15980
15981
15982
15983
15984
15985
15986
15987
15988
15989
15990
15991
15992
15993
15994
15995
15996
15997
15998
15999
16000
16001
16002
16003
16004
16005
16006
16007
16008
16009
16010
16011
16012
16013
16014
16015
16016
16017
16018
16019
16020
16021
16022
16023
16024
16025
16026
16027
16028
16029
16030
16031
16032
16033
16034
16035
16036
16037
16038
16039
16040
16041
16042
16043
16044
16045
16046
16047
16048
16049
16050
16051
16052
16053
16054
16055
16056
16057
16058
16059
16060
16061
16062
16063
16064
16065
16066
16067
16068
16069
16070
16071
16072
16073
16074
16075
16076
16077
16078
16079
16080
16081
16082
16083
16084
16085
16086
16087
16088
16089
16090
16091
16092
16093
16094
16095
16096
16097
16098
16099
16100
16101
16102
16103
16104
16105
16106
16107
16108
16109
16110
16111
16112
16113
16114
16115
16116
16117
16118
16119
16120
16121
16122
16123
16124
16125
16126
16127
16128
16129
16130
16131
16132
16133
16134
16135
16136
16137
16138
16139
16140
16141
16142
16143
16144
16145
16146
16147
16148
16149
16150
16151
16152
16153
16154
16155
16156
16157
16158
16159
16160
16161
16162
16163
16164
16165
16166
16167
16168
16169
16170
16171
16172
16173
16174
16175
16176
16177
16178
16179
16180
16181
16182
16183
16184
16185
16186
16187
16188
16189
16190
16191
16192
16193
16194
16195
16196
16197
16198
16199
16200
16201
16202
16203
16204
16205
16206
16207
16208
16209
16210
16211
16212
16213
16214
16215
16216
16217
16218
16219
16220
16221
16222
16223
16224
16225
16226
16227
16228
16229
16230
16231
16232
16233
16234
16235
16236
16237
16238
16239
16240
16241
16242
16243
16244
16245
16246
16247
16248
16249
16250
16251
16252
16253
16254
16255
16256
16257
16258
16259
16260
16261
16262
16263
16264
16265
16266
16267
16268
16269
16270
16271
16272
16273
16274
16275
16276
16277
16278
16279
16280
16281
16282
16283
16284
16285
16286
16287
16288
16289
16290
16291
16292
16293
16294
16295
16296
16297
16298
16299
16300
16301
16302
16303
16304
16305
16306
16307
16308
16309
16310
16311
16312
16313
16314
16315
16316
16317
16318
16319
16320
16321
16322
16323
16324
16325
16326
16327
16328
16329
16330
16331
16332
16333
16334
16335
16336
16337
16338
16339
16340
16341
16342
16343
16344
16345
16346
16347
16348
16349
16350
16351
16352
16353
16354
16355
16356
16357
16358
16359
16360
16361
16362
16363
16364
16365
16366
16367
16368
16369
16370
16371
16372
16373
16374
16375
16376
16377
16378
16379
16380
16381
16382
16383
16384
16385
16386
16387
16388
16389
16390
16391
16392
16393
16394
16395
16396
16397
16398
16399
16400
16401
16402
16403
16404
16405
16406
16407
16408
16409
16410
16411
16412
16413
16414
16415
16416
16417
16418
16419
16420
16421
16422
16423
16424
16425
16426
16427
16428
16429
16430
16431
16432
16433
16434
16435
16436
16437
16438
16439
16440
16441
16442
16443
16444
16445
16446
16447
16448
16449
16450
16451
16452
16453
16454
16455
16456
16457
16458
16459
16460
16461
16462
16463
16464
16465
16466
16467
16468
16469
16470
16471
16472
16473
16474
16475
16476
16477
16478
16479
16480
16481
16482
16483
16484
16485
16486
16487
16488
16489
16490
16491
16492
16493
16494
16495
16496
16497
16498
16499
16500
16501
16502
16503
16504
16505
16506
16507
16508
16509
16510
16511
16512
16513
16514
16515
16516
16517
16518
16519
16520
16521
16522
16523
16524
16525
16526
16527
16528
16529
16530
16531
16532
16533
16534
16535
16536
16537
16538
16539
16540
16541
16542
16543
16544
16545
16546
16547
16548
16549
16550
16551
16552
16553
16554
16555
16556
16557
16558
16559
16560
16561
16562
16563
16564
16565
16566
16567
16568
16569
16570
16571
16572
16573
16574
16575
16576
16577
16578
16579
16580
16581
16582
16583
16584
16585
16586
16587
16588
16589
16590
16591
16592
16593
16594
16595
16596
16597
16598
16599
16600
16601
16602
16603
16604
16605
16606
16607
16608
16609
16610
16611
16612
16613
16614
16615
16616
16617
16618
16619
16620
16621
16622
16623
16624
16625
16626
16627
16628
16629
16630
16631
16632
16633
16634
16635
16636
16637
16638
16639
16640
16641
16642
16643
16644
16645
16646
16647
16648
16649
16650
16651
16652
16653
16654
16655
16656
16657
16658
16659
16660
16661
16662
16663
16664
16665
16666
16667
16668
16669
16670
16671
16672
16673
16674
16675
16676
16677
16678
16679
16680
16681
16682
16683
16684
16685
16686
16687
16688
16689
16690
16691
16692
16693
16694
16695
16696
16697
16698
16699
16700
16701
16702
16703
16704
16705
16706
16707
16708
16709
16710
16711
16712
16713
16714
16715
16716
16717
16718
16719
16720
16721
16722
16723
16724
16725
16726
16727
16728
16729
16730
16731
16732
16733
16734
16735
16736
16737
16738
16739
16740
16741
16742
16743
16744
16745
16746
16747
16748
16749
16750
16751
16752
16753
16754
16755
16756
16757
16758
16759
16760
16761
16762
16763
16764
16765
16766
16767
16768
16769
16770
16771
16772
16773
16774
16775
16776
16777
16778
16779
16780
16781
16782
16783
16784
16785
16786
16787
16788
16789
16790
16791
16792
16793
16794
16795
16796
16797
16798
16799
16800
16801
16802
16803
16804
16805
16806
16807
16808
16809
16810
16811
16812
16813
16814
16815
16816
16817
16818
16819
16820
16821
16822
16823
16824
16825
16826
16827
16828
16829
16830
16831
16832
16833
16834
16835
16836
16837
16838
16839
16840
16841
16842
16843
16844
16845
16846
16847
16848
16849
16850
16851
16852
16853
16854
16855
16856
16857
16858
16859
16860
16861
16862
16863
16864
16865
16866
16867
16868
16869
16870
16871
16872
16873
16874
16875
16876
16877
16878
16879
16880
16881
16882
16883
16884
16885
16886
16887
16888
16889
16890
16891
16892
16893
16894
16895
16896
16897
16898
16899
16900
16901
16902
16903
16904
16905
16906
16907
16908
16909
16910
16911
16912
16913
16914
16915
16916
16917
16918
16919
16920
16921
16922
16923
16924
16925
16926
16927
16928
16929
16930
16931
16932
16933
16934
16935
16936
16937
16938
16939
16940
16941
16942
16943
16944
16945
16946
16947
16948
16949
16950
16951
16952
16953
16954
16955
16956
16957
16958
16959
16960
16961
16962
16963
16964
16965
16966
16967
16968
16969
16970
16971
16972
16973
16974
16975
16976
16977
16978
16979
16980
16981
16982
16983
16984
16985
16986
16987
16988
16989
16990
16991
16992
16993
16994
16995
16996
16997
16998
16999
17000
17001
17002
17003
17004
17005
17006
17007
17008
17009
17010
17011
17012
17013
17014
17015
17016
17017
17018
17019
17020
17021
17022
17023
17024
17025
17026
17027
17028
17029
17030
17031
17032
17033
17034
17035
17036
17037
17038
17039
17040
17041
17042
17043
17044
17045
17046
17047
17048
17049
17050
17051
17052
17053
17054
17055
17056
17057
17058
17059
17060
17061
17062
17063
17064
17065
17066
17067
17068
17069
17070
17071
17072
17073
17074
17075
17076
17077
17078
17079
17080
17081
17082
17083
17084
17085
17086
17087
17088
17089
17090
17091
17092
17093
17094
17095
17096
17097
17098
17099
17100
17101
17102
17103
17104
17105
17106
17107
17108
17109
17110
17111
17112
17113
17114
17115
17116
17117
17118
17119
17120
17121
17122
17123
17124
17125
17126
17127
17128
17129
17130
17131
17132
17133
17134
17135
17136
17137
17138
17139
17140
17141
17142
17143
17144
17145
17146
17147
17148
17149
17150
17151
17152
17153
17154
17155
17156
17157
17158
17159
17160
17161
17162
17163
17164
17165
17166
17167
17168
17169
17170
17171
17172
17173
17174
17175
17176
17177
17178
17179
17180
17181
17182
17183
17184
17185
17186
17187
17188
17189
17190
17191
17192
17193
17194
17195
17196
17197
17198
17199
17200
17201
17202
17203
17204
17205
17206
17207
17208
17209
17210
17211
17212
17213
17214
17215
17216
17217
17218
17219
17220
17221
17222
17223
17224
17225
17226
17227
17228
17229
17230
17231
17232
17233
17234
17235
17236
17237
17238
17239
17240
17241
17242
17243
17244
17245
17246
17247
17248
17249
17250
17251
17252
17253
17254
17255
17256
17257
17258
17259
17260
17261
17262
17263
17264
17265
17266
17267
17268
17269
17270
17271
17272
17273
17274
17275
17276
17277
17278
17279
17280
17281
17282
17283
17284
17285
17286
17287
17288
17289
17290
17291
17292
17293
17294
17295
17296
17297
17298
17299
17300
17301
17302
17303
17304
17305
17306
17307
17308
17309
17310
17311
17312
17313
17314
17315
17316
17317
17318
17319
17320
17321
17322
17323
17324
17325
17326
17327
17328
17329
17330
17331
17332
17333
17334
17335
17336
17337
17338
17339
17340
17341
17342
17343
17344
17345
17346
17347
17348
17349
17350
17351
17352
17353
17354
17355
17356
17357
17358
17359
17360
17361
17362
17363
17364
17365
17366
17367
17368
17369
17370
17371
17372
17373
17374
17375
17376
17377
17378
17379
17380
17381
17382
17383
17384
17385
17386
17387
17388
17389
17390
17391
17392
17393
17394
17395
17396
17397
17398
17399
17400
17401
17402
17403
17404
17405
17406
17407
17408
17409
17410
17411
17412
17413
17414
17415
17416
17417
17418
17419
17420
17421
17422
17423
17424
17425
17426
17427
17428
17429
17430
17431
17432
17433
17434
17435
17436
17437
17438
17439
17440
17441
17442
17443
17444
17445
17446
17447
17448
17449
17450
17451
17452
17453
17454
17455
17456
17457
17458
17459
17460
17461
17462
17463
17464
17465
17466
17467
17468
17469
17470
17471
17472
17473
17474
17475
17476
17477
17478
17479
17480
17481
17482
17483
17484
17485
17486
17487
17488
17489
17490
17491
17492
17493
17494
17495
17496
17497
17498
17499
17500
17501
17502
17503
17504
17505
17506
17507
17508
17509
17510
17511
17512
17513
17514
17515
17516
17517
17518
17519
17520
17521
17522
17523
17524
17525
17526
17527
17528
17529
17530
17531
17532
17533
17534
17535
17536
17537
17538
17539
17540
17541
17542
17543
17544
17545
17546
17547
17548
17549
17550
17551
17552
17553
17554
17555
17556
17557
17558
17559
17560
17561
17562
17563
17564
17565
17566
17567
17568
17569
17570
17571
17572
17573
17574
17575
17576
17577
17578
17579
17580
17581
17582
17583
17584
17585
17586
17587
17588
17589
17590
17591
17592
17593
17594
17595
17596
17597
17598
17599
17600
17601
17602
17603
17604
17605
17606
17607
17608
17609
17610
17611
17612
17613
17614
17615
17616
17617
17618
17619
17620
17621
17622
17623
17624
17625
17626
17627
17628
17629
17630
17631
17632
17633
17634
17635
17636
17637
17638
17639
17640
17641
17642
17643
17644
17645
17646
17647
17648
17649
17650
17651
17652
17653
17654
17655
17656
17657
17658
17659
17660
17661
17662
17663
17664
17665
17666
17667
17668
17669
17670
17671
17672
17673
17674
17675
17676
17677
17678
17679
17680
17681
17682
17683
17684
17685
17686
17687
17688
17689
17690
17691
17692
17693
17694
17695
17696
17697
17698
17699
17700
17701
17702
17703
17704
17705
17706
17707
17708
17709
17710
17711
17712
17713
17714
17715
17716
17717
17718
17719
17720
17721
17722
17723
17724
17725
17726
17727
17728
17729
17730
17731
17732
17733
17734
17735
17736
17737
17738
17739
17740
17741
17742
17743
17744
17745
17746
17747
17748
17749
17750
17751
17752
17753
17754
17755
17756
17757
17758
17759
17760
17761
17762
17763
17764
17765
17766
17767
17768
17769
17770
17771
17772
17773
17774
17775
17776
17777
17778
17779
17780
17781
17782
17783
17784
17785
17786
17787
17788
17789
17790
17791
17792
17793
17794
17795
17796
17797
17798
17799
17800
17801
17802
17803
17804
17805
17806
17807
17808
17809
17810
17811
17812
17813
17814
17815
17816
17817
17818
17819
17820
17821
17822
17823
17824
17825
17826
17827
17828
17829
17830
17831
17832
17833
17834
17835
17836
17837
17838
17839
17840
17841
17842
17843
17844
17845
17846
17847
17848
17849
17850
17851
17852
17853
17854
17855
17856
17857
17858
17859
17860
17861
17862
17863
17864
17865
17866
17867
17868
17869
17870
17871
17872
17873
17874
17875
17876
17877
17878
17879
17880
17881
17882
17883
17884
17885
17886
17887
17888
17889
17890
17891
17892
17893
17894
17895
17896
17897
17898
17899
17900
17901
17902
17903
17904
17905
17906
17907
17908
17909
17910
17911
17912
17913
17914
17915
17916
17917
17918
17919
17920
17921
17922
17923
17924
17925
17926
17927
17928
17929
17930
17931
17932
17933
17934
17935
17936
17937
17938
17939
17940
17941
17942
17943
17944
17945
17946
17947
17948
17949
17950
17951
17952
17953
17954
17955
17956
17957
17958
17959
17960
17961
17962
17963
17964
17965
17966
17967
17968
17969
17970
17971
17972
17973
17974
17975
17976
17977
17978
17979
17980
17981
17982
17983
17984
17985
17986
17987
17988
17989
17990
17991
17992
17993
17994
17995
17996
17997
17998
17999
18000
18001
18002
18003
18004
18005
18006
18007
18008
18009
18010
18011
18012
18013
18014
18015
18016
18017
18018
18019
18020
18021
18022
18023
18024
18025
18026
18027
18028
18029
18030
18031
18032
18033
18034
18035
18036
18037
18038
18039
18040
18041
18042
18043
18044
18045
18046
18047
18048
18049
18050
18051
18052
18053
18054
18055
18056
18057
18058
18059
18060
18061
18062
18063
18064
18065
18066
18067
18068
18069
18070
18071
18072
18073
18074
18075
18076
18077
18078
18079
18080
18081
18082
18083
18084
18085
18086
18087
18088
18089
18090
18091
18092
18093
18094
18095
18096
18097
18098
18099
18100
18101
18102
18103
18104
18105
18106
18107
18108
18109
18110
18111
18112
18113
18114
18115
18116
18117
18118
18119
18120
18121
18122
18123
18124
18125
18126
18127
18128
18129
18130
18131
18132
18133
18134
18135
18136
18137
18138
18139
18140
18141
18142
18143
18144
18145
18146
18147
18148
18149
18150
18151
18152
18153
18154
18155
18156
18157
18158
18159
18160
18161
18162
18163
18164
18165
18166
18167
18168
18169
18170
18171
18172
18173
18174
18175
18176
18177
18178
18179
18180
18181
18182
18183
18184
18185
18186
18187
18188
18189
18190
18191
18192
18193
18194
18195
18196
18197
18198
18199
18200
18201
18202
18203
18204
18205
18206
18207
18208
18209
18210
18211
18212
18213
18214
18215
18216
18217
18218
18219
18220
18221
18222
18223
18224
18225
18226
18227
18228
18229
18230
18231
18232
18233
18234
18235
18236
18237
18238
18239
18240
18241
18242
18243
18244
18245
18246
18247
18248
18249
18250
18251
18252
18253
18254
18255
18256
18257
18258
18259
18260
18261
18262
18263
18264
18265
18266
18267
18268
18269
18270
18271
18272
18273
18274
18275
18276
18277
18278
18279
18280
18281
18282
18283
18284
18285
18286
18287
18288
18289
18290
18291
18292
18293
18294
18295
18296
18297
18298
18299
18300
18301
18302
18303
18304
18305
18306
18307
18308
18309
18310
18311
18312
18313
18314
18315
18316
18317
18318
18319
18320
18321
18322
18323
18324
18325
18326
18327
18328
18329
18330
18331
18332
18333
18334
18335
18336
18337
18338
18339
18340
18341
18342
18343
18344
18345
18346
18347
18348
18349
18350
18351
18352
18353
18354
18355
18356
18357
18358
18359
18360
18361
18362
18363
18364
18365
18366
18367
18368
18369
18370
18371
18372
18373
18374
18375
18376
18377
18378
18379
18380
18381
18382
18383
18384
18385
18386
18387
18388
18389
18390
18391
18392
18393
18394
18395
18396
18397
18398
18399
18400
18401
18402
18403
18404
18405
18406
18407
18408
18409
18410
18411
18412
18413
18414
18415
18416
18417
18418
18419
18420
18421
18422
18423
18424
18425
18426
18427
18428
18429
18430
18431
18432
18433
18434
18435
18436
18437
18438
18439
18440
18441
18442
18443
18444
18445
18446
18447
18448
18449
18450
18451
18452
18453
18454
18455
18456
18457
18458
18459
18460
18461
18462
18463
18464
18465
18466
18467
18468
18469
18470
18471
18472
18473
18474
18475
18476
18477
18478
18479
18480
18481
18482
18483
18484
18485
18486
18487
18488
18489
18490
18491
18492
18493
18494
18495
18496
18497
18498
18499
18500
18501
18502
18503
18504
18505
18506
18507
18508
18509
18510
18511
18512
18513
18514
18515
18516
18517
18518
18519
18520
18521
18522
18523
18524
18525
18526
18527
18528
18529
18530
18531
18532
18533
18534
18535
18536
18537
18538
18539
18540
18541
18542
18543
18544
18545
18546
18547
18548
18549
18550
18551
18552
18553
18554
18555
18556
18557
18558
18559
18560
18561
18562
18563
18564
18565
18566
18567
18568
18569
18570
18571
18572
18573
18574
18575
18576
18577
18578
18579
18580
18581
18582
18583
18584
18585
18586
18587
18588
18589
18590
18591
18592
18593
18594
18595
18596
18597
18598
18599
18600
18601
18602
18603
18604
18605
18606
18607
18608
18609
18610
18611
18612
18613
18614
18615
18616
18617
18618
18619
18620
18621
18622
18623
18624
18625
18626
18627
18628
18629
18630
18631
18632
18633
18634
18635
18636
18637
18638
18639
18640
18641
18642
18643
18644
18645
18646
18647
18648
18649
18650
18651
18652
18653
18654
18655
18656
18657
18658
18659
18660
18661
18662
18663
18664
18665
18666
18667
18668
18669
18670
18671
18672
18673
18674
18675
18676
18677
18678
18679
18680
18681
18682
18683
18684
18685
18686
18687
18688
18689
18690
18691
18692
18693
18694
18695
18696
18697
18698
18699
18700
18701
18702
18703
18704
18705
18706
18707
18708
18709
18710
18711
18712
18713
18714
18715
18716
18717
18718
18719
18720
18721
18722
18723
18724
18725
18726
18727
18728
18729
18730
18731
18732
18733
18734
18735
18736
18737
18738
18739
18740
18741
18742
18743
18744
18745
18746
18747
18748
18749
18750
18751
18752
18753
18754
18755
18756
18757
18758
18759
18760
18761
18762
18763
18764
18765
18766
18767
18768
18769
18770
18771
18772
18773
18774
18775
18776
18777
18778
18779
18780
18781
18782
18783
18784
18785
18786
18787
18788
18789
18790
18791
18792
18793
18794
18795
18796
18797
18798
18799
18800
18801
18802
18803
18804
18805
18806
18807
18808
18809
18810
18811
18812
18813
18814
18815
18816
18817
18818
18819
18820
18821
18822
18823
18824
18825
18826
18827
18828
18829
18830
18831
18832
18833
18834
18835
18836
18837
18838
18839
18840
18841
18842
18843
18844
18845
18846
18847
18848
18849
18850
18851
18852
18853
18854
18855
18856
18857
18858
18859
18860
18861
18862
18863
18864
18865
18866
18867
18868
18869
18870
18871
18872
18873
18874
18875
18876
18877
18878
18879
18880
18881
18882
18883
18884
18885
18886
18887
18888
18889
18890
18891
18892
18893
18894
18895
18896
18897
18898
18899
18900
18901
18902
18903
18904
18905
18906
18907
18908
18909
18910
18911
18912
18913
18914
18915
18916
18917
18918
18919
18920
18921
18922
18923
18924
18925
18926
18927
18928
18929
18930
18931
18932
18933
18934
18935
18936
18937
18938
18939
18940
18941
18942
18943
18944
18945
18946
18947
18948
18949
18950
18951
18952
18953
18954
18955
18956
18957
18958
18959
18960
18961
18962
18963
18964
18965
18966
18967
18968
18969
18970
18971
18972
18973
18974
18975
18976
18977
18978
18979
18980
18981
18982
18983
18984
18985
18986
18987
18988
18989
18990
18991
18992
18993
18994
18995
18996
18997
18998
18999
19000
19001
19002
19003
19004
19005
19006
19007
19008
19009
19010
19011
19012
19013
19014
19015
19016
19017
19018
19019
19020
19021
19022
19023
19024
19025
19026
19027
19028
19029
19030
19031
19032
19033
19034
19035
19036
19037
19038
19039
19040
19041
19042
19043
19044
19045
19046
19047
19048
19049
19050
19051
19052
19053
19054
19055
19056
19057
19058
19059
19060
19061
19062
19063
19064
19065
19066
19067
19068
19069
19070
19071
19072
19073
19074
19075
19076
19077
19078
19079
19080
19081
19082
19083
19084
19085
19086
19087
19088
19089
19090
19091
19092
19093
19094
19095
19096
19097
19098
19099
19100
19101
19102
19103
19104
19105
19106
19107
19108
19109
19110
19111
19112
19113
19114
19115
19116
19117
19118
19119
19120
19121
19122
19123
19124
19125
19126
19127
19128
19129
19130
19131
19132
19133
19134
19135
19136
19137
19138
19139
19140
19141
19142
19143
19144
19145
19146
19147
19148
19149
19150
19151
19152
19153
19154
19155
19156
19157
19158
19159
19160
19161
19162
19163
19164
19165
19166
19167
19168
19169
19170
19171
19172
19173
19174
19175
19176
19177
19178
19179
19180
19181
19182
19183
19184
19185
19186
19187
19188
19189
19190
19191
19192
19193
19194
19195
19196
19197
19198
19199
19200
19201
19202
19203
19204
19205
19206
19207
19208
19209
19210
19211
19212
19213
19214
19215
19216
19217
19218
19219
19220
19221
19222
19223
19224
19225
19226
19227
19228
19229
19230
19231
19232
19233
19234
19235
19236
19237
19238
19239
19240
19241
19242
19243
19244
19245
19246
19247
19248
19249
19250
19251
19252
19253
19254
19255
19256
19257
19258
19259
19260
19261
19262
19263
19264
19265
19266
19267
19268
19269
19270
19271
19272
19273
19274
19275
19276
19277
19278
19279
19280
19281
19282
19283
19284
19285
19286
19287
19288
19289
19290
19291
19292
19293
19294
19295
19296
19297
19298
19299
19300
19301
19302
19303
19304
19305
19306
19307
19308
19309
19310
19311
19312
19313
19314
19315
19316
19317
19318
19319
19320
19321
19322
19323
19324
19325
19326
19327
19328
19329
19330
19331
19332
19333
19334
19335
19336
19337
19338
19339
19340
19341
19342
19343
19344
19345
19346
19347
19348
19349
19350
19351
19352
19353
19354
19355
19356
19357
19358
19359
19360
19361
19362
19363
19364
19365
19366
19367
19368
19369
19370
19371
19372
19373
19374
19375
19376
19377
19378
19379
19380
19381
19382
19383
19384
19385
19386
19387
19388
19389
19390
19391
19392
19393
19394
19395
19396
19397
19398
19399
19400
19401
19402
19403
19404
19405
19406
19407
19408
19409
19410
19411
19412
19413
19414
19415
19416
19417
19418
19419
19420
19421
19422
19423
19424
19425
19426
19427
19428
19429
19430
19431
19432
19433
19434
19435
19436
19437
19438
19439
19440
19441
19442
19443
19444
19445
19446
19447
19448
19449
19450
19451
19452
19453
19454
19455
19456
19457
19458
19459
19460
19461
19462
19463
19464
19465
19466
19467
19468
19469
19470
19471
19472
19473
19474
19475
19476
19477
19478
19479
19480
19481
19482
19483
19484
19485
19486
19487
19488
19489
19490
19491
19492
19493
19494
19495
19496
19497
19498
19499
19500
19501
19502
19503
19504
19505
19506
19507
19508
19509
19510
19511
19512
19513
19514
19515
19516
19517
19518
19519
19520
19521
19522
19523
19524
19525
19526
19527
19528
19529
19530
19531
19532
19533
19534
19535
19536
19537
19538
19539
19540
19541
19542
19543
19544
19545
19546
19547
19548
19549
19550
19551
19552
19553
19554
19555
19556
19557
19558
19559
19560
19561
19562
19563
19564
19565
19566
19567
19568
19569
19570
19571
19572
19573
19574
19575
19576
19577
19578
19579
19580
19581
19582
19583
19584
19585
19586
19587
19588
19589
19590
19591
19592
19593
19594
19595
19596
19597
19598
19599
19600
19601
19602
19603
19604
19605
19606
19607
19608
19609
19610
19611
19612
19613
19614
19615
19616
19617
19618
19619
19620
19621
19622
19623
19624
19625
19626
19627
19628
19629
19630
19631
19632
19633
19634
19635
19636
19637
19638
19639
19640
19641
19642
19643
19644
19645
19646
19647
19648
19649
19650
19651
19652
19653
19654
19655
19656
19657
19658
19659
19660
19661
19662
19663
19664
19665
19666
19667
19668
19669
19670
19671
19672
19673
19674
19675
19676
19677
19678
19679
19680
19681
19682
19683
19684
19685
19686
19687
19688
19689
19690
19691
19692
19693
19694
19695
19696
19697
19698
19699
19700
19701
19702
19703
19704
19705
19706
19707
19708
19709
19710
19711
19712
19713
19714
19715
19716
19717
19718
19719
19720
19721
19722
19723
19724
19725
19726
19727
19728
19729
19730
19731
19732
19733
19734
19735
19736
19737
19738
19739
19740
19741
19742
19743
19744
19745
19746
19747
19748
19749
19750
19751
19752
19753
19754
19755
19756
19757
19758
19759
19760
19761
19762
19763
19764
19765
19766
19767
19768
19769
19770
19771
19772
19773
19774
19775
19776
19777
19778
19779
19780
19781
19782
19783
19784
19785
19786
19787
19788
19789
19790
19791
19792
19793
19794
19795
19796
19797
19798
19799
19800
19801
19802
19803
19804
19805
19806
19807
19808
19809
19810
19811
19812
19813
19814
19815
19816
19817
19818
19819
19820
19821
19822
19823
19824
19825
19826
19827
19828
19829
19830
19831
19832
19833
19834
19835
19836
19837
19838
19839
19840
19841
19842
19843
19844
19845
19846
19847
19848
19849
19850
19851
19852
19853
19854
19855
19856
19857
19858
19859
19860
19861
19862
19863
19864
19865
19866
19867
19868
19869
19870
19871
19872
19873
19874
19875
19876
19877
19878
19879
19880
19881
19882
19883
19884
19885
19886
19887
19888
19889
19890
19891
19892
19893
19894
19895
19896
19897
19898
19899
19900
19901
19902
19903
19904
19905
19906
19907
19908
19909
19910
19911
19912
19913
19914
19915
19916
19917
19918
19919
19920
19921
19922
19923
19924
19925
19926
19927
19928
19929
19930
19931
19932
19933
19934
19935
19936
19937
19938
19939
19940
19941
19942
19943
19944
19945
19946
19947
19948
19949
19950
19951
19952
19953
19954
19955
19956
19957
19958
19959
19960
19961
19962
19963
19964
19965
19966
19967
19968
19969
19970
19971
19972
19973
19974
19975
19976
19977
19978
19979
19980
19981
19982
19983
19984
19985
19986
19987
19988
19989
19990
19991
19992
19993
19994
19995
19996
19997
19998
19999
20000
20001
20002
20003
20004
20005
20006
20007
20008
20009
20010
20011
20012
20013
20014
20015

<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN">
<HTML>
<HEAD>
<TITLE>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Australia Twice Traversed, by Ernest Giles</TITLE>
<META HTTP-EQUIV="content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1">
<style type="text/css">
<!--
body {background:lightyellow; margin:10%; text-align:justify}
h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {color:green; text-align:center}
blockquote {font:smaller}
p.poem {text-align:center}
p.external {font:bold}
-->
</style>
</HEAD>
<body>
<H1>The Project Gutenberg EBook of Australia Twice Traversed, by Ernest Giles</H1>

<pre>
Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the
copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing
this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook.

This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project
Gutenberg file.  Please do not remove it.  Do not change or edit the
header without written permission.

Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the
eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file.  Included is
important information about your specific rights and restrictions in
how the file may be used.  You can also find out about how to make a
donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved.


**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**

**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**

*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****


Title: Australia Twice Traversed
       The Romance of Exploration

Author: Ernest Giles

Release Date: January, 2004 [EBook #4974]
[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
[This file was first posted on June 15th, 2002]
[Most recently updated: May 24, 2003]

Edition: 10

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUSTRALIA TWICE TRAVERSED ***

</pre>


<p class="external">The Project Gutenberg Etext of Australia Twice Traversed by Ernest Giles.

<p class="external">Sue Asscher asschers@bigpond.com

<hr>

<h2>AUSTRALIA TWICE TRAVERSED:</h2>

<h3>The Romance of Exploration,</h3>

<h6>BEING</h6>

<h5><i>A NARRATIVE COMPILED FROM THE JOURNALS</i></h5>

<h6>OF</h6>

<h3>FIVE EXPLORING EXPEDITIONS</h3>

<h6>INTO AND THROUGH</h6>

<h4><i>Central South Australia, and Western Australia,</i></h4>

<h6>FROM 1872 TO 1876.</h6>

<h6>BY</h6>

<h4>ERNEST GILES</h4>

<h5><i>Fellow, and Gold Medallist, of the Royal Geographical Society of London.</i></h5>

<h6>GO FORTH, MY BOOK, AND SHOW THE THINGS, 
<br>PILGRIMAGE UNTO THE PILGRIM BRINGS.
<br><i>Bunyan.</i></h6>

<hr>

<h5><a name="i1">ILLUSTRATION 1</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t01.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR.
<br>Signed: &ldquo;Yours faithfully, Ernest Giles.&rdquo;</h5>

<hr>

<h3>CONTENTS.</h3>

<h4><a href="#author">AUTHOR'S NOTES.</a></h4>

<h4><a href="#intro">INTRODUCTION.</a></h4>

<h4><a href="#preface">PREFACE.</a></h4>

<h4><a href="#book1">BOOK 1.</a></h4>
Chapter
<ol>
<li><a href="#book1">From 4th to 30th August, 1872.</a>
<li><a href="#ch1.2">From 30th August to 6th September, 1872.</a>
<li><a href="#ch1.3">From 6th to 17th September, 1872.</a>
<li><a href="#ch1.4">From 17th September to 1st October, 1872.</a>
<li><a href="#ch1.5">From 1st to 15th October, 1872.</a>
<li><a href="#ch1.6">From 15th October, 1872 to 31st January, 1873.</a>
</ol>
<h4><a href="#book2">BOOK 2.</a></h4>
<ol>
<li><a href="#book2">Note to the Second Expedition.</a>
<li value="1"><a href="#ch2.1">From 4th to 22nd August, 1873.</a>
<li><a href="#ch2.2">From 22nd August to 10th September, 1873.</a>
<li><a href="#ch2.3">From 10th to 30th September, 1873.</a>
<li><a href="#ch2.4">From 30th September to 9th November, 1873.</a>
<li><a href="#ch2.5">From 9th November to 23rd December, 1873.</a>
<li><a href="#ch2.6">From 23rd December, 1873 to 16th January, 1874.</a>
<li><a href="#ch2.7">From 16th January to 19th February, 1874.</a>
<li><a href="#ch2.8">From 20th February to 12th March, 1874.</a>
<li><a href="#ch2.9">From 12th March to 19th April, 1874.</a>
<li><a href="#ch2.10">From 20th April to 21st May, 1874.</a>
<li><a href="#ch2.11">From 21st May to 20th July, 1874.</a>
</ol>
<h4><a href="#book3">BOOK 3.</a></h4>
<ol>
<li><a href="#book3">From 13th March to 1st April, 1875.</a>
<li><a href="#ch3.2">From 2nd April to 6th May, 1875.</a>
</ol>
<h4><a href="#book4">BOOK 4.</a></h4>
<ol>
<li><a href="#book4">From 6th May to 27th July, 1875.</a>
<li><a href="#ch4.2">From 27th July to 6th October, 1875.</a>
<li><a href="#ch4.3">From 6th October to 18th October, 1875.</a>
<li><a href="#ch4.4">From 18th October to 18th November, 1875.</a>
</ol>
<h4><a href="#book5">BOOK 5.</a></h4>
<ol>
<li><a href="#book5">From 18th November, 1875 to 10th April, 1876.</a>
<li><a href="#ch5.2">From 10th April to 7th May, 1876.</a>
<li><a href="#ch5.3">From 7th May to 10th June, 1876.</a>
<li><a href="#ch5.4">From 11th June to 23rd August, 1876.</a>
<li><a href="#ch5.5">From 23rd August to 20th September, 1876.</a>
</ol>
<h4><a href="#appendix">APPENDIX.</a></h4>

<h4><a href="#index">INDEX.</a></h4>

<hr>

<h3>ILLUSTRATIONS.</h3>
<ol>
<li><a href="#i1">Portrait Of Author.</a>
<li><a href="#i2">Chambers' Pillar.</a>
<li><a href="#i3">The Moloch Horridus.</a>
<li><a href="#i4">View In The Glen Of Palms.</a>
<li><a href="#i5">Palm-Tree Found In The Glen Of Palms.</a>
<li><a href="#i6">Glen Edith.</a>
<li><a href="#i7">Penny's Creek.</a>
<li><a href="#i8">Escape Glen&mdash;The Advance.</a>
<li><a href="#i9">Escape Glen&mdash;The Retreat.</a>
<li><a href="#i10">Middleton's Pass And Fish Ponds.</a>
<li><a href="#i11">Junction Of The Palmer And The Finke.</a>
<li><a href="#i12">An Incident Of Travel.</a>
<li><a href="#i13">Tietkens's Birthday Creek And Mount Carnarvon.</a>
<li><a href="#i14">On Birthday Creek.</a>
<li><a href="#i15">Encounter With Natives At &ldquo;The Officer,&rdquo; Musgrave Range.</a>
<li><a href="#i16">The Fairies' Glen.</a>
<li><a href="#i17">Zoe's Glen.</a>
<li><a href="#i18">The Stinking Pit.</a>
<li><a href="#i19">Attack At Fort Mueller.</a>
<li><a href="#i20">Dragged By Diaway.</a>
<li><a href="#i21">Attack At Sladen Water.</a>
<li><a href="#i22">Gill's Pinnacle.</a>
<li><a href="#i23">View On The Petermann Range.</a>
<li><a href="#i24">Attack At The Farthest East.</a>
<li><a href="#i25">Mount Olga.</a>
<li><a href="#i26">Circus Water.</a>
<li><a href="#i27">First View Of The Alfred And Marie Range.</a>
<li><a href="#i28">The Last Ever Seen Of Gibson.</a>
<li><a href="#i29">Alone In The Desert.</a>
<li><a href="#i30">Jimmy At Fort Mckellar.</a>
<li><a href="#i31">The Hermit Hill And Finniss Spring.</a>
<li><a href="#i32">Wynbring Rock.</a>
<li><a href="#i33">Little Salt Lake.</a>
<li><a href="#i34">In Queen Victoria's Desert.</a>
<li><a href="#i35">Queen Victoria's Spring.</a>
<li><a href="#i36">Attack At Ularring.</a>
<li><a href="#i37">Forcing A Passage Through The Scrubs In Western Australia.</a>
<li><a href="#i38">First View Of Mount Churchman.</a>
<li><a href="#i39">The First White Man Met In Western Australia.</a>
<li><a href="#i40">Arrival At Culham (Samuel Phillips's).</a>
<li><a href="#i41">Arrival At Perth.</a>
<li><a href="#i42">Arrival At The Town Hall, Perth.</a>
<li><a href="#i43">Farewell To Western Australia.</a>
<li><a href="#i44">Glen Ross.</a>
<li><a href="#i45">Glen Ferdinand.</a>
</ol>
<h5><i>Maps</i></h5>
<ol>
<li><a href="#m1">First Expedition, 1872.</a>
<li><a href="#m2">Second Expedition, 1873-4.</a>
<li><a href="#m3">Australia, Showing The Several Routes.</a>
<li><a href="#m4">Third Expedition, 1875.</a>
<li><a href="#m5">Fourth Expedition, 1875.</a>
<li><a href="#m6">Fifth Expedition, 1876.</a>
</ol>
<hr>

<h4><a name="author">AUTHOR'S NOTES.</a></h4>

<p>The original journals of the field notes, from which the present
narrative is compiled, were published, as each expedition ended, as
parliamentary papers by the Government of the Colony of South Australia.

<p>The journals of the first two expeditions, formed a small book, which
was distributed mostly to the patrons who had subscribed to the fund for
my second expedition. The account of the third, found its way into the
South Australian <i>Observer</i>, while the records of the fourth and
fifth journeys remained as parliamentary documents, the whole never
having appeared together. Thus only fragments of the accounts of my
wanderings became known; and though my name as an explorer has been
heard of, both in Australia and England, yet very few people even in the
Colonies are aware of what I have really done. Therefore it was thought
that a work embodying the whole of my explorations might be acceptable
to both English and Colonial readers.

<p>Some years have been allowed to elapse since these journeys were
commenced; but the facts are the same, and to those not mixed up in the
adventures, the incidents as fresh as when they occurred.

<p>Unavoidably, I have had to encounter a large area of desert country
in the interior of the colonies of South Australia, and Western
Australia, in my various wanderings; but I also discovered considerable
tracts of lands watered and suitable for occupation.

<p>It is not in accordance with my own feelings in regard to Australia
that I am the chronicler of her poorer regions; and although an
Englishman, Australia has no sincerer well-wisher; had it been
otherwise, I could not have performed the work these volumes record. It
has indeed been often a cause of regret that my lines of march should
have led me away from the beautiful and fertile places upon Australia's
shores, where our countrymen have made their homes.

<p>On the subject of the wonderful resources of Australia I am not
called upon to enlarge, and surely all who have heard her name must have
heard also of her gold, copper, wool, wine, beef, mutton, wheat, timber,
and other products; and if any other evidence were wanting to show what
Australia really is, a visit to her cities, and an experience of her
civilisation, not forgetting the great revenues of her different
provinces, would dispel at once all previous inaccurate impressions of
those who, never having seen, perhaps cannot believe in the existence of
them.

<p>In the course of this work my reader will easily discover to whom it
is dedicated, without a more formal statement under such a heading. The
preface, which may seem out of its place, is merely such to my own
journeys. I thought it due to my readers and my predecessors in the
Australian field of discovery, that I should give a rapid epitome (which
may contain some minor errors) of what they had done, and which is here
put forward by way of introduction.

<p>Most of the illustrations, except one or two photographs, were
originally from very rough sketches, or I might rather say scratches, of
mine, improved upon by Mr. Val Prinsep, of Perth, Western Australia, who
drew most of the plates referring to the camel expeditions, while those
relating to the horse journeys were sketched by Mr. Woodhouse, Junr., of
Melbourne; the whole, however, have undergone a process of reproduction
at the hands of London artists.

<p>To Mrs. Cashel Hoey, the well-known authoress and Australian
correspondent, who revised and cleared my original manuscripts, I have
to accord my most sincere thanks. To Mr. Henniker-Heaton, M.P., who
appears to be the Imperial Member in the British Parliament for all
Australia, I am under great obligations, he having introduced me to Mr.
Marston, of the publishing firm who have produced these volumes. I also
have to thank Messrs. Clowes and Sons for the masterly way in which they
have printed this work. Also Messrs. Creed, Robinson, Fricker, and
Symons, of the publishing staff. The maps have been reproduced by
Weller, the well-known geographer.

<h5>ILLUSTRATION 0</h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t00.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>Gold Medal of the Royal Geographical Society of London.
<br>&ldquo;Victoria D.G. Britanniarum Regina, 1837, Patrona.
<br>Or, Terras Reclusas, Ernest Giles, 1880.&rdquo;</h5>

<hr>

<h4><a name="intro">INTRODUCTION.</a></h4>

<p>Before narrating my own labours in opening out portions of the
unknown interior of Australia, it will be well that I should give a
succinct account of what others engaged in the same arduous enterprise
around the shores and on the face of the great Southern Continent, have
accomplished.

<p>After the wondrous discoveries of Columbus had set the Old World into
a state of excitement, the finding of new lands appears to have become
the romance of that day, as the exploration by land of unknown regions
has been that of our time; and in less than fifty years after the
discovery of America navigators were searching every sea in hopes of
emulating the deeds of that great explorer; but nearly a hundred years
elapsed before it became known in Europe that a vast and misty land
existed in the south, whose northern and western shores had been met in
certain latitudes and longitudes, but whose general outline had not been
traced, nor was it even then visited with anything like a systematic
geographical object. The fact of the existence of such a land at the
European antipodes no doubt set many ardent and adventurous spirits upon
the search, but of their exploits and labours we know nothing.

<p>The Dutch were the most eager in their attempts, although Torres, a
Spaniard, was, so far as we know, the first to pass in a voyage from the
West Coast of America to India, between the Indian or Malay Islands, and
the great continent to the south, hence we have Torres Straits. The
first authentic voyager, however, to our actual shores was Theodoric
Hertoge, subsequently known as Dirk Hartog&mdash;bound from Holland to
India. He arrived at the western coast between the years 1610 and 1616.
An island on the west coast bears his name: there he left a tin plate
nailed to a tree with the date of his visit and the name of his ship,
the Endragt, marked upon it. Not very long after Theodoric Hertoge, and
still to the western and north-western coasts, came Zeachern, Edels,
Nuitz, De Witt, and Pelsart, who was wrecked upon Houtman's Albrolhos,
or rocks named by Edels, in his ship the Leewin or Lion. Cape Leewin is
called after this vessel. Pelsart left two convicts on the Australian
coast in 1629. Carpenter was the next navigator, and all these
adventurers have indelibly affixed their names to portions of the coast
of the land they discovered. The next, and a greater than these, at
least greater in his navigating successes, was Abel Janz Tasman, in
1642. Tasman was instructed to inquire from the native inhabitants for
Pelsart's two convicts, and to bring them away with him, <i>if they
entreated him</i>; but they were never heard of again. Tasman sailed
round a great portion of the Australian coast, discovered what he named
Van Diemen's land, now Tasmania, and New Zealand. He it was who called
the whole, believing it to be one, New Holland, after the land of his
birth. Next we have Dampier, an English buccaneer&mdash;though the name
sounds very like Dutch; it was probably by chance only that he and his
roving crew visited these shores. Then came Wilhelm Vlaming with three
ships. God save the mark to call such things ships. How the men
performed the feats they did, wandering over vast and unknown oceans,
visiting unknown coasts with iron-bound shores, beset with sunken reefs,
subsisting on food not fit for human beings, suffering from scurvy
caused by salted diet and rotten biscuit, with a short allowance of
water, in torrid zones, and liable to be attacked and killed by hostile
natives, it is difficult for us to conceive. They suffered all the
hardships it is possible to imagine upon the sea, and for what? for
fame, for glory? That their names and achievements might be handed down
to us; and this seems to have been their only reward; for there was no
Geographical Society's medal in those days with its motto to spur them
on.

<p>Vlaming was the discoverer of the Swan River, upon which the seaport
town of Fremantle and the picturesque city of Perth, in Western
Australia, now stand. This river he discovered in 1697, and he was the
first who saw Dirk Hartog's tin plate.

<p>Dampier's report of the regions he had visited caused him to be sent
out again in 1710 by the British Government, and upon his return, all
previous doubts, if any existed, as to the reality of the existence of
this continent, were dispelled, and the position of its western shores
was well established. Dampier discovered a beautiful flower of the pea
family known as the Clianthus Dampierii. In 1845 Captain Sturt found the
same flower on his Central Australian expedition, and it is now
generally known as Sturt's Desert Pea, but it is properly named in its
botanical classification, after its original discoverer.

<p>After Dampier's discoveries, something like sixty years elapsed
before Cook appeared upon the scene, and it was not until his return to
England that practical results seemed likely to accrue to any nation
from the far-off land. I shall not recapitulate Cook's voyages; the
first fitted out by the British Government was made in 1768, but Cook
did not touch upon Australia's coast until two years later, when,
voyaging northwards along the eastern coast, he anchored at a spot he
called Botany Bay, from the brightness and abundance of the beautiful
wild flowers he found growing there. Here two natives attempted to
prevent his landing, although the boats were manned with forty men. The
natives threw stones and spears at the invaders, but nobody was killed.
At this remote and previously unvisited spot one of the crew named Forby
Sutherland, who had died on board the Endeavour, was buried, his being
the first white man's grave ever dug upon Australia's shore; at least
the first authenticated one&mdash;for might not the remaining one of the
two unfortunate convicts left by Pelsart have dug a grave for his
companion who was the first to die, no man remaining to bury the
survivor? Cook's route on this voyage was along the eastern coast from
Cape Howe in south latitude 37&deg; 30&acute; to Cape York in Torres
Straits in latitude 10&deg; 40&acute;. He called the country New South
Wales, from its fancied resemblance to that older land, and he took
possession of the whole in the name of George III as England's
territory.

<p>Cook reported so favourably of the regions he had discovered that the
British Government decided to establish a colony there; the spot finally
selected was at Port Jackson, and the settlement was called Sydney in
1788. After Cook came the Frenchman Du Fresne and his unfortunate
countryman, La P&eacute;rouse. Then Vancouver, Blyth, and the French
General and Admiral, D'Entre-Casteaux, who went in search of the missing
La P&eacute;rouse. In 1826, Captain Dillon, an English navigator, found
the stranded remains of La P&eacute;rouse's ships at two of the
Charlotte Islands group. We now come to another great English navigator,
Matthew Flinders, who was the first to circumnavigate Australia; to him
belongs the honour of having given to this great island continent the
name it now bears. In 1798, Flinders and Bass, sailing in an open boat
from Sydney, discovered that Australia and Van Diemen's Land were
separate; the dividing straits between were then named after Bass. In
1802, during his second voyage in the Investigator, a vessel about the
size of a modern ship's launch, Flinders had with him as a midshipman
John Franklin, afterwards the celebrated Arctic navigator. On his return
to England, Flinders, touching at the Isle of France, was made prisoner
by the French governor and detained for nearly seven years, during which
time a French navigator Nicolas Baudin, with whom came P&eacute;rron and
Lacep&egrave;de the naturalists, and whom Flinders had met at a part of
the southern coast which he called Encounter Bay in reference to that
meeting, claimed and reaped the honour and reward of a great portion of
the unfortunate prisoner's work. Alas for human hopes and aspirations,
this gallant sailor died before his merits could be acknowledged or
rewarded, and I believe one or two of his sisters were, until very
lately, living in the very poorest circumstances.

<p>The name of Flinders is, however, held in greater veneration than any
of his predecessors or successors, for no part of the Australian coast
was unvisited by him. Rivers, mountain ranges, parks, districts,
counties, and electoral divisions, have all been named after him; and,
indeed, I may say the same of Cook; but, his work being mostly confined
to the eastern coast, the more western colonies are not so intimately
connected with his name, although an Australian poet has called him the
Columbus of our shore.

<p>After Flinders and Baudin came another Frenchman, De
Fr&eacute;ycinet, bound on a tour of discovery all over the world.

<p>Australia's next navigator was Captain, subsequently Admiral, Philip
Parker King, who carried out four separate voyages of discovery, mostly
upon the northern coasts. At three places upon which King favourably
reported, namely Camden Harbour on the north-west coast, Port Essington
in Arnhem's Land, and Port Cockburn in Apsley Straits, between Melville
and Bathurst Islands on the north coast, military and penal settlements
were established, but from want of further emigration these were
abandoned. King completed a great amount of marine surveying on these
voyages, which occurred between the years 1813 and 1822.

<p>Captain Wickham in the Beagle comes next; he discovered the Fitzroy
River, which he found emptied itself into a gulf named King's Sound. In
consequence of ill-health Captain Wickham, after but a short sojourn on
these shores, resigned his command, and Lieutenant Lort Stokes, who had
sailed with him in the Beagle round the rocky shores of Magellan's
Straits and Tierra del Fuego, received the command from the Lords of the
Admiralty. Captain Lort Stokes may be considered the last, but by no
means the least, of the Australian navigators. On one occasion he was
speared by natives of what he justly called Treachery Bay, near the
mouth of the Victoria River in Northern Australia, discovered by him.
His voyages occurred between the years 1839 and 1843. He discovered the
mouths of most of the rivers that fall into the Gulf of Carpentaria,
besides many harbours, bays, estuaries, and other geographical features
upon the North Australian coasts.

<p>The early navigators had to encounter much difficulty and many
dangers in their task of making surveys from the rough achievements of
the Dutch, down to the more finished work of Flinders, King and Stokes.
It is to be remembered that they came neither for pleasure nor for rest,
but to discover the gulfs, bays, peninsulas, mountains, rivers and
harbours, as well as to make acquaintance with the native races, the
soils, and animal and vegetable products of the great new land, so as to
diffuse the knowledge so gained for the benefit of others who might come
after them. In cockle-shells of little ships what dangers did they not
encounter from shipwreck on the sunken edges of coral ledges of the new
and shallow seas, how many were those who were never heard of again; how
many a little exploring bark with its adventurous crew have been sunk in
Australia's seas, while those poor wretches who might, in times gone by,
have landed upon the inhospitable shore would certainly have been killed
by the wild and savage hordes of hostile aborigines, from whom there
could be no escape! With Stokes the list of those who have visited and
benefited Australia by their labours from the sea must close; my only
regret being that so poor a chronicler is giving an outline of their
achievements. I now turn to another kind of exploration&mdash;and have
to narrate deeds of even greater danger, though of a different kind,
done upon Australia's face.

<p>In giving a short account of those gallant men who have left
everlasting names as explorers upon the <i>terra firma</i> and <i>terra
incognita</i> of our Australian possession, I must begin with the
earliest, and go back a hundred years to the arrival of Governor Phillip
at Botany Bay, in 1788, with eleven ships, which have ever since been
known as <i>The First Fleet.</i>; I am not called upon to narrate the
history of the settlement, but will only say that the Governor showed
sound judgment when he removed his fleet and all his men from Botany Bay
to Port Jackson, and founded the village of Sydney, which has now become
the huge capital city of New South Wales. A new region was thus opened
out for British labour, trade, capital, and enterprise. From the
earliest days of the settlement adventurous and enterprising men, among
whom was the Governor himself, who was on one occasion speared by the
natives, were found willing to venture their lives in the exploration of
the country upon whose shores they had so lately landed. Wentworth,
Blaxland, and Evans appear on the list as the very first explorers by
land. The chief object they had in view was to surmount the difficulties
which opposed their attempting to cross the Blue Mountains, and Evans
was the first who accomplished this. The first efficient exploring
expedition into the interior of New South Wales was conducted by John
Oxley, the Surveyor-General of the colony, in 1817. His principal
discovery was that some of the Australian streams ran inland, towards
the interior, and he traced both the Macquarie and the Lachlan, named by
him after Governor Lachlan Macquarie, until he supposed they ended in
vast swamps or marshes, and thereby founded the theory that in the
centre of Australia there existed a great inland sea. After Oxley came
two explorers named respectively Hovell and Hume, who penetrated, in
1824, from the New South Wales settlements into what is now the colony
of Victoria. They discovered the upper portions of the River Murray,
which they crossed somewhere in the neighbourhood of the present town of
Albury. The river was then called the Hume, but it was subsequently
called the Murray by Captain Charles Sturt, who heads the list of
Australia's heroes with the title of The Father of Australian
Exploration.

<p>In 1827 Sturt made one of the greatest discoveries of this
century&mdash;or at least one of the most useful for his
countrymen&mdash;that of the River Darling, the great western artery of
the river system of New South Wales, and what is now South-western
Queensland. In another expedition, in 1832, Sturt traced the
Murrumbidgee River, discovered by Oxley, in boats into what he called
the Murray. This river is the same found by Hovell and Hume, Sturt's
name for it having been adopted. He entered the new stream, which was
lined on either bank by troops of hostile natives, from whom he had many
narrow escapes, and found it trended for several hundreds of miles in a
west-north-west direction, confirming him in his idea of an inland sea;
but at a certain point, which he called the great north-west bend, it
suddenly turned south and forced its way to the sea at Encounter Bay,
where Flinders met Baudin in 1803. Neither of these explorers appear to
have discovered the river's mouth. On this occasion Sturt discovered the
province or colony of South Australia, which in 1837 was proclaimed by
the British Government, and in that colony Sturt afterwards made his
home.

<p>Sturt's third and final expedition was from the colony of South
Australia into Central Australia, in 1843-1845. This was the first truly
Central Australian expedition that had yet been despatched, although in
1841 Edward Eyre had attempted the same arduous enterprise. Of this I
shall write anon. On his third expedition Sturt discovered the Barrier,
the Grey, and the Stokes ranges, and among numerous smaller watercourses
he found and named Strezletki's, Cooper's, and Eyre's Creeks. The latter
remained the furthest known inland water of Australia for many years
after Sturt's return. Sturt was accompanied, as surveyor and draftsman,
by John McDouall Stuart, whom I shall mention in his turn. So far as my
opinion, formed in my wanderings over the greater portions of the
country explored by Sturt, goes, his estimate of the regions he visited
has scarcely been borne out according to the views of the present day.

<p>Like Oxley, he was fully impressed with the notion that an inland sea
did exist, and although he never met such a feature in his travels, he
seems to have thought it must be only a little more remote than the
parts he had reached. He was fully prepared to come upon an inland sea,
for he carried a boat on a bullock waggon for hundreds of miles, and
when he finally abandoned it he writes: &ldquo;Here we left the boat
which I had vainly hoped would have ploughed the waters of an inland
sea.&rdquo; Several years afterwards I discovered pieces of this boat,
built of New Zealand pine, in the debris of a flood about twenty miles
down the watercourse where it had been left. A great portion, if not all
the country, explored by that expedition is now highly-prized pastoral
land, and a gold field was discovered almost in sight of a depot formed
by Sturt, at a spot where he was imprisoned at a water hole for six
months without moving his camp. He described the whole region as a
desert, and he seems to have been haunted by the notion that he had got
into and was surrounded by a wilderness the like of which no human being
had ever seen or heard of before. His whole narrative is a tale of
suffering and woe, and he says on his map, being at the furthest point
he attained in the interior, about forty-five miles from where he had
encamped on the watercourse he called Eyre's Creek, now a watering place
for stock on a Queensland cattle run: &ldquo;Halted at sunset in a
country such as I verily believe has no parallel upon the earth's
surface, and one which was terrible in its aspect.&rdquo; Sturt's views
are only to be accounted for by the fact that what we now call excellent
sheep and cattle country appeared to him like a desert, because his
comparisons were made with the best alluvial lands he had left near the
coast. Explorers as a rule, great ones more particularly, are not
without rivals in so honourable a field as that of discovery, although
not every one who undertakes the task is fitted either by nature or art
to adorn the chosen part. Sturt was rivalled by no less celebrated an
individual than Major, afterwards Sir Thomas, Mitchell, a soldier of the
Peninsula War, and some professional jealousy appears to have existed
between them.

<p>Major Mitchell was then the Surveyor-General of the Colony, and he
entirely traversed and made known the region he appropriately named
Australia Felix, now the colony of Victoria. Mitchell, like Sturt,
conducted three expeditions: the first in 1831-1832, when he traced the
River Darling previously discovered by Sturt, for several hundred miles,
until he found it trend directly to the locality at which Sturt, in his
journey down the Murray, had seen and laid down its mouth or junction
with the larger river. Far up the Darling, in latitude 30&deg; 5&acute;,
Mitchell built a stockade and formed a depot, which he called Fort
Bourke; near this spot the present town of Bourke is situated and now
connected by rail with Sydney, the distance being about 560 miles.
Mitchell's second journey, when he visited Australia Felix, was made in
1835, and his last expedition into tropical Australia was in 1845. On
this expedition he discovered a large river running in a north-westerly
direction, and as its channel was so large, and its general appearance
so grand, he conjectured that it would prove to be the Victoria River of
Captain Lort Stokes, and that it would run on in probably increasing
size, or at least in undiminished magnificence, through the 1100 or 1200
miles of country that intervened between his own and Captain Stokes's
position. He therefore called it the Victoria River. Gregory
subsequently discovered that Mitchell's Victoria turned south, and was
one and the same watercourse called Cooper's Creek by Sturt. The upper
portion of this watercourse is now known by its native name of the
Barcoo, the name Victoria being ignored. Mitchell always had surveyors
with him, who chained as he went every yard of the thousands of miles he
explored. He was knighted for his explorations, and lived to enjoy the
honour; so indeed was Sturt, but in his case it was only a mockery, for
he was totally blind and almost on his deathbed when the recognition of
his numerous and valuable services was so tardily conferred upon him.
(Dr. W.H. Browne, who accompanied Sturt to Central Australia in 1843-5
as surgeon and naturalist, is living in London; and another earlier
companion of the Father of Australian Exploration, George McCleay, still
survives.)

<p>These two great travellers were followed by, or worked
simultaneously, although in a totally different part of the continent,
namely the north-west coast, with Sir George Grey in 1837-1839. His
labours and escapes from death by spear-wounds, shipwreck, starvation,
thirst, and fatigue, fill his volumes with incidents of the deepest
interest. Edward Eyre, subsequently known as Governor Eyre, made an
attempt to reach, in 1840-1841, Central Australia by a route north from
the city of Adelaide; and as Sturt imagined himself surrounded by a
desert, so Eyre thought he was hemmed in by a circular or
horse-shoe-shaped salt depression, which he called Lake Torrens;
because, wherever he tried to push northwards, north-westwards,
eastwards, or north-eastwards, he invariably came upon the shores of one
of these objectionable and impassable features. As we now know, there
are several of them with spaces of traversable ground between, instead
of the obstacle being one continuous circle by which he supposed he was
surrounded. In consequence of his inability to overcome this
obstruction, Eyre gave up the attempt to penetrate into Central
Australia, but pushing westerly, round the head of Flinders' Spencer's
Gulf, where now the inland seaport town of Port Augusta stands, he
forced his way along the coast line from Port Lincoln to Fowler's Bay
(Flinders), and thence along the perpendicular cliffs of the Great
Australian Bight to Albany, at King George's Sound.

<p>This journey of Eyre's was very remarkable in more ways than one; its
most extraordinary incident being the statement that his horses
travelled for seven days and nights without water. I have travelled with
horses in almost every part of Australia, but I know that after three
days and three nights without water horses would certainly knock up,
die, or become utterly useless, and it would be impossible to make them
continue travelling. Another remarkable incident of his march is strange
enough. One night whilst Eyre was watching the horses, there being no
water at the encampment, Baxter, his only white companion, was murdered
by two little black boys belonging to South Australia, who had been with
Eyre for some time previously. These little boys shot Baxter and robbed
the camp of nearly all the food and ammunition it contained, and then,
while Eyre was running up from the horses to where Baxter lay, decamped
into the bush and were only seen the following morning, but never
afterwards. One other and older boy, a native of Albany, whither Eyre
was bound, now alone remained. Eyre and this boy (Wylie) now pushed on
in a starving condition, living upon dead fish or anything they could
find for several weeks, and never could have reached the Sound had they
not, by almost a miracle, fallen in with a French whaling schooner when
nearly 300 miles had yet to be traversed. The captain, who was an
Englishman named Rossiter, treated them most handsomely; he took them on
board for a month while their horses recruited on shore&mdash;for this
was a watering place of Flinders&mdash;he then completely refitted them
with every necessary before he would allow them to depart. Eyre in
gratitude called the place Rossiter Bay, but it seems to have been
prophetically christened previously by the ubiquitous Flinders, under
the name of Lucky Bay. Nearly all the watering places visited by Eyre
consisted of the drainage from great accumulations of pure white sand or
hummocks, which were previously discovered by the Investigator; as
Flinders himself might well have been called. The most peculiar of these
features is the patch at what Flinders called the head of the Great
Australian Bight; these sandhills rise to an elevation of several
hundred feet, the prevailing southerly winds causing them to slope
gradually from the south, while the northern face is precipitous. In
moonlight I have seen these sandhills, a few miles away, shining like
snowy mountains, being refracted to an unnatural altitude by the bright
moonlight. Fortunate indeed it was for Eyre that such relief was
afforded him; he was unable to penetrate at all into the interior, and
he brought back no information of the character and nature of the
country inland. I am the only traveller who has explored that part of
the interior, but of this more hereafter.

<p>About this time Strezletki and McMillan, both from New South Wales,
explored the region now the easternmost part of the colony of Victoria,
which Strezletki called Gipp's Land. These two explorers were rivals,
and both, it seems, claimed to have been first in that field.

<p>Next on the list of explorers comes Ludwig Leichhardt, a surgeon, a
botanist, and an eager seeker after fame in the Australian field of
discovery, and whose memory all must revere. He successfully conducted
an expedition from Moreton Bay to the Port Essington of King&mdash;on
the northern coast&mdash;by which he made known the geographical
features of a great part of what is now Queensland, the capital being
Brisbane at Moreton Bay. A settlement had been established at Port
Essington by the Government of New South Wales, to which colony the
whole territory then belonged. At this settlement, as being the only
point of relief after eighteen months of travel, Leichhardt and his
exhausted party arrived. The settlement was a military and penal one,
but was ultimately abandoned. It is now a cattle station in the northern
territory division of South Australia, and belongs to some gentlemen in
Adelaide.

<p>Of Leichhardt's sad fate in the interior of Australia no tidings have
ever been heard. On this fatal journey, which occurred in 1848, he
undertook the too gigantic task of crossing Australia from east to west,
that is to say, from Moreton Bay to Swan River. Even at that period,
however, the eastern interior was not all entirely unknown, as
Mitchell's Victoria River or Barcoo, and the Cooper's and Eyre's Creeks
of Sturt had already been discovered. The last-named watercourse lay
nearly 1000 miles from the eastern coast, in latitude 25&deg; south, and
it is reasonable to suppose that to such a point Leichhardt would
naturally direct his course&mdash;indeed in what was probably his last
letter, addressed to a friend, he mentions this watercourse as a
desirable point to make for upon his new attempt. But where his
wanderings ended, and where the catastrophe that closed his own and his
companions' lives occurred, no tongue can tell. After he finally left
the furthest outlying settlements at the Mount Abundance station, he,
like the lost Pleiad, was seen on earth no more. How could he have died
and where? ah, where indeed? I who have wandered into and returned alive
from the curious regions he attempted and died to explore, have
unfortunately never come across a single record or any remains or traces
of those long lost but unforgotten braves. Leichhardt originally started
on his last sad venture with a party of eight, including one if not two
native black boys. Owing, however, to some disagreement, the whole party
returned to the starting point, but being reorganised it started again
with the same number of members. There were about twenty head of
bullocks broken in to carry pack-loads; this was an ordinary custom in
those early days of Australian settlement. Leichhardt also had two
horses and five or six mules: this outfit was mostly contributed by the
settlers who gave, some flour, some bullocks, some money, firearms,
gear, etc., and some gave sheep and goats; he had about a hundred of the
latter. The packed bullocks were taken to supply the party with beef, in
the meantime carrying the expedition stores. The bullocks' pack-saddles
were huge, ungainly frames of wood fastened with iron-work, rings, etc.

<p>Shortly after the expedition made a second start, two or three of the
members again seceded, and returned to the settlements, while Leichhardt
and his remaining band pushed farther and farther to the west.

<p>Although the eastern half of the continent is now inhabited, though
thinly, no traces of any kind, except two or three branded trees in the
valley of the Cooper, have ever been found. My belief is that the only
cause to be assigned for their destruction is summed up in the dread
word &ldquo;flood.&rdquo; They were so far traced into the valley of the
Cooper; this creek, which has a very lengthy course, ends in Lake Eyre,
one of the salt depressions which baffled that explorer. A point on the
southern shore is now known as Eyre's Lookout.

<p>The Cooper is known in times of flood to reach a width of between
forty and fifty miles, the whole valley being inundated. Floods may
surround a traveller while not a drop of local rain may fall, and had
the members of this expedition perished in any other way, some remains
of iron pack-saddle frames, horns, bones, skulls, firearms, and other
articles must have been found by the native inhabitants who occupied the
region, and would long ago have been pointed out by the aborigines to
the next comers who invaded their territories. The length of time that
animals' bones might remain intact in the open air in Australia is
exemplified by the fact that in 1870, John Forrest found the skull of a
horse in one of Eyre's camps on the cliffs of the south coast thirty
years after it was left there by Eyre. Forrest carried the skull to
Adelaide. I argue, therefore, that if Leichhardt's animals and equipment
had not been buried by a flood, some remains must have been since found,
for it is impossible, if such things were above ground that they could
escape the lynx-like glances of Australian aboriginals, whose wonderful
visual powers are unsurpassed among mankind. Everybody and everything
must have been swallowed in a cataclysm and buried deep and sure in the
mud and slime of a flood.

<p>The New South Wales Government made praiseworthy efforts to rescue
the missing traveller. About a year after Leichhardt visited Port
Essington, the Government abandoned the settlement, and the prevailing
opinion in the colony of New South Wales at that time was, that
Leichhardt had not been able to reach Eyre's Creek, but had been forced
up north, from his intended route, the inland-sea theory still
prevailing, and that he had probably returned to the old settlement for
relief. Therefore, when he had been absent two years, the Government
despatched a schooner to the abandoned place. The master of the vessel
saw several of the half-civilised natives, who well remembered
Leichhardt's arrival there, but he had not returned. The natives
promised the master to take the greatest care of him should he again
appear, but it is needless to say he was seen no more. The Government
were very solicitous about him, and when he had been absent four years,
Mr. Hovendon Heley was sent away with an outfit of pack-horses and six
or seven men, to endeavour to trace him. This expedition seems to have
wandered about for several months, and discovered, as Mr. Heley states,
two marked trees branded exactly alike, namely L over XVA, and each spot
where these existed is minutely described. There was at each, a
water-hole, upon the bank of which the camp was situated; at each camp a
marked tree was found branded alike; at each, the frame of a tent was
left standing; at each, some logs had been laid down to place the stores
and keep them from damp. The two places as described appear so identical
that it seems impossible to think otherwise than that Heley and his
party arrived twice at the same place without knowing it. The tree or
trees were found on a watercourse, or courses, near the head of the
Warrego River, in Queensland. The above was all the information gained
by this expedition. A subsequent search expedition was sent out in 1858,
under Augustus Gregory; this I shall place in its chronological order.
Kennedy, a companion of Sir Thomas Mitchell into Tropical Australia in
1845, next enters the field. He went to trace Mitchell's Victoria River
or Barcoo, but finding it turned southwards and broke into many
channels, he abandoned it, and on his return journey discovered the
Warrego River, which may be termed the Murrumbidgee of Queensland. On a
second expedition, in 1848, Kennedy started from Moreton Bay to
penetrate and explore the country of the long peninsula, which runs up
northward between the Gulf of Carpentaria and the Pacific Ocean, and
ends at Cape York, the northernmost point of Australia in Torres
Straits. From this disastrous expedition he never returned. He was
starved, ill, fatigued, hunted by remorseless aborigines for days, and
finally speared to death by the natives of Cape York, when almost within
sight of his goal, where a vessel was waiting to succour him and all his
party. Only a black boy named Jacky Jacky was with him. After Kennedy's
death Jacky buried all his papers in a hollow tree, and for a couple of
days he eluded his pursuers, until, reaching the spot where his master
had told him the vessel would be, he ran yelling down to the beach,
followed by a crowd of murderous savages. By the luckiest chance a boat
happened to be at the beach, and the officers and crew rescued the boy.
The following day a party led by Jacky returned to where poor Kennedy
lay, and they buried him. They obtained his books and maps from the tree
where Jacky had hidden them. The narrative of this expedition is
heart-rending. Of the whole number of the whites, namely seven, two only
were rescued by the vessel at a place where Kennedy had formed a depot
on the coast, and left four men.

<p>With Captain Roe, a companion of King's, with whom he was speared and
nearly killed by the natives of Goulburn Island, in 1820, and who
afterwards became Surveyor-General of the colony of Western Australia,
the list of Australia's early explorers may be said to close, although I
should remark that Augustus Gregory was a West Australian explorer as
early as the year 1846. Captain Roe conducted the most extensive inland
exploration of Western Australia at that day, in 1848. No works of
fiction can excel, or indeed equal, in romantic and heart-stirring
interest the volumes, worthy to be written in letters of gold, which
record the deeds and the sufferings of these noble toilers in the dim
and distant field of discovery afforded by the Australasian continent
and its vast islands. It would be well if those works were read by the
present generation as eagerly as the imaginary tales of adventure which,
while they appeal to no real sentiment, and convey no solid information,
cannot compete for a moment with those sublime records of what has been
dared, done, and suffered, at the call of duty, and for the sake of
human interests by men who have really lived and died. I do not say that
all works of fiction are entirely without interest to the human
imagination, or that writers of some of these works are not clever, for
in one sense they certainly are, and that is, in only writing of horrors
that never occurred, without going through the preliminary agony of a
practical realisation of the dangers they so graphically describe, and
from which, perhaps, they might be the very first to flee, though their
heroes are made to appear nothing less than demigods. Strange as it may
appear, it seems because the tales of Australian travel and
self-devotion are true, that they attract but little notice, for were
the narratives of the explorers <i>not</i> true we might become the most
renowned novelists the world has ever known. Again, Australian
geography, as explained in the works of Australian exploration, might be
called an unlearned study. Let me ask how many boys out of a hundred in
Australia, or England either, have ever read Sturt or Mitchell, Eyre,
Leichhardt, Grey, or Stuart. It is possible a few may have read Cook's
voyages, because they appear more national, but who has read Flinders,
King, or Stokes? Is it because these narratives are Australian and true
that they are not worthy of attention?

<p>Having well-nigh exhausted the list of the early explorers in
Australia, it is necessary now to turn to a more modern school. I must
admit that in the works of this second section, with a few exceptions,
such stirring narratives as those of the older travellers cannot be
found. Nevertheless, considerable interest must still attach to them, as
they in reality carry on the burning torch which will not be consumed
until by its light the whole of Australia stands revealed.

<p>The modern explorers are of a different class, and perhaps of one not
so high as their predecessors. By this remark I do not mean anything
invidious, and if any of the moderns are correctly to be classed with
the ancients, the Brothers Gregory must be spoken of next, as being the
fittest to head a secondary list. Augustus Gregory was in the West
Australian field of discovery in 1846. He was a great mechanical, as
well as a geographical, discoverer, for to him we are indebted for our
modern horses' pack-saddles in lieu of the dreadful old English sumpter
horse furniture that went by that name; he also invented a new kind of
compass known as Gregory's Patent, unequalled for steering on horseback,
and through dense scrubs where an ordinary compass would be almost
useless, while steering on camels in dense scrubs, on a given bearing,
without a Gregory would be next to impossible; it would be far easier
indeed, if not absolutely necessary, to walk and lead them, which has to
be done in almost all camel countries.

<p>In 1854 Austin made a lengthened journey to the east and northwards,
from the old settled places of Western Australia, and in 1856 Augustus
Gregory conducted the North Australian Expedition, fitted out under the
auspices of the Royal Geographical Society of London. Landing at
Stokes's Treachery Bay, Gregory and his brother Frank explored Stokes's
Victoria River to its sources, and found another watercourse, whose
waters, running inland, somewhat revived the old theory of the inland
sea. Upon tracing this river, which he named Sturt's Creek, after the
father of Australian exploration, it was found to exhaust itself in a
circular basin, which was named Termination Lake. Retracing the creek to
where the depot was situated, the party travelled across a stretch of
unknown country for some two hundred miles, and striking Leichhardt's
Port Essington track on Leichhardt's Roper River, his route was followed
too closely for hundreds of miles until civilisation was reached. My
friend Baron von Mueller accompanied this expedition as botanist,
naturalist, surgeon and physician.

<p>Soon after his return from his northern expedition, Gregory was
despatched in 1858 by the Government of New South Wales to search again
for the lost explorer Leichhardt, who had then been missing ten years.
This expedition resulted in little or nothing, as far as its main object
was concerned, one or two trees, marked L, on the Barcoo and lower end
of the Thompson, was all it discovered; but, geographically, it settled
the question of the course of the Barcoo, or Mitchell's Victoria, which
Gregory followed past Kennedy's farthest point, and traced until he
found it identical with Sturt's Cooper's Creek. He described it as being
of enormous width in times of flood, and two of Sturt's horses,
abandoned since 1845, were seen but left uncaptured. Sturt's Strezletki
Creek in South Australian territory was then followed. This peculiar
watercourse branches out from the Cooper and runs in a south-south-west
direction. It brought Gregory safely to the northern settlements of
South Australia. The fruitless search for it, however, was one of the
main causes of the death of Burke and Wills in 1861. This was Gregory's
final attempt; he accepted the position of Surveyor-General of
Queensland, and his labours as an explorer terminated. His journals are
characterised by a brevity that is not the soul of wit, he appearing to
grudge to others the information he had obtained at the expense of great
endurance, hardihood, knowledge, and judgment. Gregory was probably the
closest observer of all the explorers, except Mitchell, and an advanced
geologist.

<p>In 1858 a new aspirant for geographical honours appeared on the field
in the person of John McDouall Stuart, of South Australia, who, as
before mentioned, had formerly been a member of Captain Sturt's Central
Australian expedition in 1843-5 as draftsman and surveyor. Stuart's
object was to cross the continent, almost in its greatest width, from
south to north; and this he eventually accomplished. After three
attempts he finally reached the north coast in 1862, his rival Burke
having been the first to do so. Stuart might have been first, but he
seems to have under-valued his rival, and wasted time in returning and
refitting when he might have performed the feat in two if not one
journey; for he discovered a well-watered country the whole way, and his
route is now mainly the South Australian Transcontinental Telegraph
Line, though it must be remembered that Stuart had something like
fifteen hundred miles of unknown country in front of him to explore,
while Burke and Wills had scarcely six. Stuart also conducted some minor
explorations before he undertook his greater one. He and McKinlay were
South Australia's heroes, and are still venerated there accordingly. He
died in England not long after the completion of his last expedition.

<p>We now come to probably the most melancholy episode in the long
history of Australian exploration, relating to the fate of Burke and
Wills. The people and Government of the colony of Victoria determined to
despatch an expedition to explore Central Australia, from Sturt's Eyre's
Creek to the shores of the Gulf of Carpentaria at the mouth of the
Albert River of Stokes's, a distance in a straight line of not more than
six hundred miles; and as everything that Victoria undertakes must
always be on the grandest scale, so was this. One colonist gave
&pound;1000; &pound;4000 more was subscribed, and then the Government
took the matter in hand to fit out the Victorian Exploring Expedition.
Camels were specially imported from India, and everything was done to
ensure success; when I say everything, I mean all but the principal
thing&mdash;the leader was the wrong man. He knew nothing of bush life
or bushmanship, navigation, or any art of travel. Robert O'Hara Burke
was brave, no doubt, but so hopelessly ignorant of what he was
undertaking, that it would have been the greatest wonder if he had
returned alive to civilisation. He was accompanied by a young man named
Wills as surveyor and observer; he alone kept a diary, and from his own
statements therein he was frequently more than a hundred miles out of
his reckoning. That, however, did not cause his or Burke's death; what
really did so was bad management. The money this expedition cost,
variously estimated at from &pound;40,000 to &pound;60,000, was almost
thrown away, for the map of the route of the expedition was incorrect
and unreliable, and Wills's journal of no geographical value, except
that it showed they had no difficulty with regard to water. The
expedition was, however, successful in so far that Burke crossed
Australia from south to north before Stuart, and was the first traveller
who had done so. Burke and Wills both died upon Cooper's Creek after
their return from Carpentaria upon the field of their renown. Charles
Gray, one of the party, died, or was killed, a day or two before
returning thither, and John King, the sole survivor, was rescued by
Alfred Howitt. Burke's and Stuart's lines of travel, though both pushing
from south to north, were separated by a distance of over 400 miles in
longitude. These travellers, or heroes I suppose I ought to call them,
were neither explorers nor bushmen, but they were brave and undaunted,
and they died in the cause they had undertaken.

<p>When it became certain in Melbourne that some mishap must have
occurred to these adventurers, Victoria, South Australia, and Queensland
each sent out relief parties. South Australia sent John McKinlay, who
found Gray's grave, and afterwards made a long exploration to
Carpentaria, where, not finding any vessel as he expected, he had an
arduous struggle to reach a Queensland cattle station near Port Dennison
on the eastern coast. Queensland sent Landsborough by sea to
Carpentaria, where he was landed and left to live or die as he might,
though of course he had a proper equipment of horses, men, and gear. He
followed up the Flinders River of Stokes, had a fine country to
traverse; got on to the head of the Warrego, and finally on to the
Darling River in New South Wales. He came across no traces whatever of
Burke. Victoria sent a relief expedition under Walker, with several
Queensland black troopers. Walker, crossing the lower Barcoo, found a
tree of Leichhardt's marked L, being the most westerly known. Walker
arrived at Carpentaria without seeing any traces of the missing Burke
and Wills; but at the mouth of the Albert River met the master of the
vessel that had conveyed Landsborough; the master had seen or heard
nothing of Burke. Another expedition fitted out by Victoria, and called
the Victorian Contingent Relief Expedition, was placed under the command
of Alfred Howitt in 1861. At this time a friend of mine, named Conn, and
I were out exploring for pastoral runs, and were in retreat upon the
Darling, when we met Howitt going out. When farther north I repeatedly
urged my companion to visit the Cooper, from which we were then only
eighty or ninety miles away, in vain. I urged how we might succour some,
if not all, of the wanderers. Had we done so we should have found and
rescued King, and we might have been in time to save Burke and Wills
also; but Conn would not agree to go. It is true we were nearly starved
as it was, and might have been entirely starved had we gone there, but
by good fortune we met and shot a stray bullock that had wandered from
the Darling, and this happy chance saved our lives. I may here remark
that poor Conn and two other exploring comrades of those days, named
Curlewis and McCulloch, were all subsequently, not only killed but
partly eaten by the wild natives of Australia&mdash;Conn in a place near
Cooktown on the Queensland coast, and Curlewis and McCulloch on the
Paroo River in New South Wales in 1862. When we were together we had
many very narrow escapes from death, and I have had several similar
experiences since those days. Howitt on his arrival at Cooper's Creek
was informed by the natives that a white man was alive with them, and
thus John King, the sole survivor, was rescued.

<p>Between 1860-65 several short expeditions were carried on in Western
Australia by Frank Gregory, Lefroy, Robinson, and Hunt; while upon the
eastern side of Australia, the Brothers Jardine successfully explored
and took a mob of cattle through the region that proved so fatal to
Kennedy and his companions in 1848. The Jardines traversed a route more
westerly than Kennedy's along the eastern shores of the Gulf of
Carpentaria to Cape York.

<p>In 1865, Duncan McIntyre, while on the Flinders River of Stokes and
near the Gulf of Carpentaria, into which it flows, was shown by a white
shepherd at an out sheep station, a tree on which the letter L was cut.
This no doubt was one of Landsborough's marks, or if it was really
carved by Leichhardt, it was done upon his journey to Port Essington in
1844, when he crossed and encamped upon the Flinders. Mcintyre reported
by telegraph to Melbourne that he had found traces of Leichhardt,
whereupon Baron von Mueller and a committee of ladies in Melbourne
raised a fund of nearly &pound;4000, and an expedition called &ldquo;The
Ladies' Leichhardt Search Expedition,&rdquo; whose noble object was to
trace and find some records or mementoes, if not the persons, and
discover the last resting-place of the unfortunate traveller and his
companions, was placed under McIntyre's command. About sixty horses and
sixteen camels were obtained for this attempt. The less said about this
splendid but ill-starred effort the better. Indignation is a mild term
to apply to our feelings towards the man who caused the ruin of so
generous an undertaking. Everything that its promoters could do to
ensure its success they did, and it deserved a better fate, for a
brilliant issue might have been obtained, if not by the discovery of the
lost explorers, at least by a geographical result, as the whole of the
western half of Australia lay unexplored before it. The work, trouble,
anxiety, and expense that Baron von Mueller went through to start this
expedition none but the initiated can ever know. It was ruined before it
even entered the field of its labours, for, like Burke's and Wills's
expedition, it was unfortunately placed under the command of the wrong
man. The collapse of the expedition occurred in this wise. A certain
doctor was appointed surgeon and second in command, the party consisting
of about ten men, including two Afghans with the camels, and one young
black boy. Their encampment was now at a water-hole in the Paroo, where
Curlewis and McCulloch had been killed, in New South Wales. The previous
year McIntyre had visited a water-hole in the Cooper some seventy-four
or seventy-five miles from his camp on the Paroo, and now ordered the
whole of his heavily-laden beasts and all the men to start for the
distant spot. The few appliances they had for carrying water soon became
emptied. About the middle of the third day, upon arrival at the
wished-for relief, to their horror and surprise they found the
water-hole was dry&mdash;by no means an unusual thing in Australian
travel. The horses were already nearly dead; McIntyre, without
attempting to search either up or down the channel of the watercourse,
immediately ordered a retreat to the last water in the Paroo. After
proceeding a few miles he left the horses and white men, seven in
number, and went on ahead with the camels, the Afghans and the black
boy, saying he would return with water for the others as soon as he
could. His brother was one of the party left behind. Almost as soon as
McIntyre's back was turned, the doctor said to the men something to the
effect that they were abandoned to die of thirst, there not being a drop
of water remaining, and that he knew in which packs the medical brandy
was stowed, certain bags being marked to indicate them. He then added,
&ldquo;Boys, we must help ourselves! the Leichhardt Search Expedition is
a failure; follow me, and I'll get you something to drink.&rdquo; Taking
a knife, he ripped open the marked bags while still on the choking
horses' backs, and extracted the only six bottles there were. One white
man named Barnes, to whom all honour, refused to touch the brandy, the
others poured the boiling alcohol down their parched and burning
throats, and a wild scene of frenzy, as described by Barnes, ensued. In
the meanwhile the unfortunate packhorses wandered away, loaded as they
were, and died in thirst and agony, weighed down by their unremoved
packs, none of which were ever recovered. Thus all the food supply and
nearly all the carrying power of the expedition was lost; the only
wonder was that none of these wretches actually died at the spot,
although I heard some of them died soon after. The return of McIntyre
and the camels loaded with water saved their lives at the time; but what
was his chagrin and surprise to find the party just where he had left
them, nearly dead, most of them delirious, with all the horses gone,
when he had expected to meet them so much nearer the Paroo. In
consequence of the state these men or animals were in, they had to be
carried on the camels, and it was impossible to go in search of the
horses; thus all was lost. This event crushed the expedition. Mcintyre
obtained a few more horses, pushed across to the Flinders again, became
attacked with fever, and died. Thus the &ldquo;Ladies' Leichhardt Search
Expedition&rdquo; entirely fell through. The camels were subsequently
claimed by McIntyre's brother for the cost of grazing them, he having
been carried by them to Carpentaria, where he selected an excellent
pastoral property, became rich, and died. It was the same doctor that
got into trouble with the Queensland Government concerning the
kidnapping of some islanders in the South Seas, and narrowly escaped
severe, if not capital punishment.

<p>In 1866, Mr. Cowle conducted an expedition from Roebourne, near Nicol
Bay, on the West Coast, for four or five hundred miles to the Fitzroy
River, discovered by Wickham, at the bottom of King's Sound.

<p>In 1869, a report having spread in Western Australia of the massacre
of some white people by the natives somewhere to the eastwards of
Champion Bay, on the west coast, the rumour was supposed to relate to
Leichhardt and his party; and upon the representations of Baron von
Mueller to the West Australian Government, a young surveyor named John
Forrest was despatched to investigate the truth of the story. This
expedition penetrated some distance to the eastwards, but could discover
no traces of the lost, or indeed anything appertaining to any travellers
whatever.

<p>In 1869-70, John Forrest, accompanied by his brother Alexander, was
again equipped by the West Australian Government for an exploration
eastwards, with the object of endeavouring to reach the South Australian
settlements by a new route inland. Forrest, however, followed Eyre's
track of 1840-1, along the shores of the Great Australian Bight, and may
be said to have made no exploration at all, as he did not on any
occasion penetrate inland more than about thirty miles from the coast.
At an old encampment Forrest found the skull of one of Eyre's horses,
which had been lying there for thirty years. This trophy he brought with
him to Adelaide.

<p>The following year, Alexander Forrest conducted an expedition to the
eastwards, from the West Australian settlements; but only succeeded in
pushing a few miles beyond Hunt and Lefroy's furthest point in 1864.

<p>What I have written above is an outline of the history of discovery
and exploration in Australia when I first took the field in the year
1872; and though it may not perhaps be called, as Tennyson says, one of
the fairy tales of science, still it is certainly one of the long
results of time. I have conducted five public expeditions and several
private ones. The latter will not be recorded in these volumes, not
because there were no incidents of interest, but because they were
conducted, in connection with other persons, for entirely pastoral
objects. Experiences of hunger, thirst, and attacks by hostile natives
during those undertakings relieved them of any monotony they might
otherwise display. It is, however, to my public expeditions that I shall
now confine my narrative.

<p>The wild charm and exciting desire that induce an individual to
undertake the arduous tasks that lie before an explorer, and the
pleasure and delight of visiting new and totally unknown places, are
only whetted by his first attempt, especially when he is constrained to
admit that his first attempt had not resulted in his carrying out its
objects.

<p>My first and second expeditions were conducted entirely with horses;
in all my after journeys I had the services of camels, those wonderful
ships of the desert, without whose aid the travels and adventures which
are subsequently recorded could not possibly have been achieved, nor
should I now be alive, as Byron says, to write so poor a tale, this
lowly lay of mine. In my first and second expeditions, the object I had
in view was to push across the continent, from different starting
points, upon the South Australian Transcontinental Telegraph Line, to
the settled districts of Western Australia. My first expedition was
fitted out entirely by Baron von Mueller, my brother-in-law, Mr. G.D.
Gill, and myself. I was joined in this enterprise by a young gentleman,
named Samuel Carmichael, whom I met in Melbourne, and who also
contributed his share towards the undertaking. The furthest point
reached on this journey was about 300 miles from my starting point. On
my return, upon reaching the Charlotte Waters Telegraph Station, in
latitude 25&deg; 55&acute; and longitude 135&deg; I met Colonel
Warburton and his son, whom I had known before. These gentlemen informed
me, to my great astonishment, they were about to undertake an exploring
expedition to Western Australia, for two well-known capitalists of South
Australia, namely the Honourable Sir Thomas Elder and Captain Hughes. I
was also informed that a South Australian Government expedition, for the
same purpose, was just in advance of them, under the command of Mr.
William C. Gosse. This information took me greatly by surprise, though
perhaps an explorer should not admit such a feeling. I had just returned
from an attempt of the same kind, beaten and disappointed. I felt if
ever I took the field again, against two such formidable rivals as were
now about to attempt what I had failed in, both being supplied with
camels by Sir Thomas Elder, my chances of competing with them would be
small indeed, as I could only command horses, and was not then known to
Sir Thomas Elder, the only gentleman in Australia who possessed camels.

<p>The fact of two expeditions starting away simultaneously, almost as
soon as I had turned my back upon civilisation, showed me at once that
my attempt, I being regarded as a Victorian, had roused the people and
Government of South Australia to the importance of the question which I
was the first to endeavour to solve&mdash;namely, the exploration of the
unknown interior, and the possibility of discovering an overland route
for stock through Central Australia, to the settlements upon the western
coast. This, I may remark, had been the dream of all Australian
explorers from the time of Eyre and Leichhardt down to my own time. It
also showed that South Australia had no desire to be beaten again (Burke
and Stuart.), and in her own territories, by &ldquo;worthless
Melbourne's pulling child;&rdquo; (hence the two new expeditions arose.
Immediately upon my return being made known by telegram to my friend
Baron von Mueller, he set to work, and with unwearied exertion soon
obtained a new fund from several wealthy gentlemen in the rival colony
of Victoria. In consideration of the information I had afforded by my
late effort, the Government of South Australia supplemented this fund by
the munificent subsidy of &pound;250, provided I <i>expended</i> the
money in fresh explorations, and supplied to the Government, at the
termination of my journey, a copy of the map and journal of my
expedition. My poverty, and not my will, consented to accept so mean a
gift. As a new, though limited fund was now placed at my disposal, I had
no inclination to decline a fresh attempt, and thus my second expedition
was undertaken; and such despatch was used by Baron Mueller and myself,
that I was again in the field, with horses only, not many weeks later
than my rivals.

<p>On this journey I was accompanied and seconded by Mr. William Henry
Tietkens. We had both been scholars at Christ's Hospital in London,
though many years apart. Of the toils and adventures of my second
expedition the readers of my book must form their own opinion; and
although I was again unsuccessful in carrying out my object, and the
expedition ended in the death of one member, and in misfortune and
starvation to the others, still I have been told by a few partial
friends that it was really a splendid failure. On that expedition I
explored a line of nearly 700 miles of previously unknown country, in a
straight line from my starting point.

<p>During my first and second expeditions I had been fortunate in the
discovery of large areas of mountain country, permanently watered and
beautifully grassed, and, as spaces of enormous extent still remained to
be explored, I decided to continue in the field, provided I could secure
the use of camels. These volumes will contain the narratives of my
public explorations. In the preface to this work I have given an outline
of the physical and colonial divisions of Australia, so that my reader
may eventually follow me, albeit in imagination only, to the starting
points of my journeys, and into the field of my labours also.

<hr>

<h4><a name="preface">PREFACE.</a></h4>

<p>The Island Continent of Australia contains an area of about three
millions of square miles, it being, so to say, an elliptically-shaped
mass about 2500 miles in length from east to west, and 2000 from north
to south. The degrees of latitude and longitude it occupies will be
shown by the map accompanying these volumes.

<p>The continent is divided into five separate colonies, whose
respective capitals are situated several hundreds of miles apart. The
oldest colony is New South Wales. The largest in area is Western
Australia, next comes South Australia; then Queensland, New South Wales,
and lastly Victoria, which, though the smallest in area, is now the
first in importance among the group. It was no wonder that Mitchell, the
Surveyor-General of New South Wales, designated that region
&ldquo;Australia Felix.&rdquo;

<p>It may be strange, but it is no less true, that there is almost as
great a difference between the fiscal laws and governments of the
various Australian Colonies as between those of foreign States in
Europe&mdash;the only thing in common being the language and the money
of the British Empire. Although however, they agree to differ amongst
themselves, there can be no doubt of the loyalty of the group, as a
whole, to their parent nation. I shall go no further into this matter,
as, although English enough, it is foreign to my subject. I shall treat
more especially of the colony or colonies within whose boundaries my
travels led me, and shall begin with South Australia, where my first
expedition was conducted.

<p>South Australia includes a vast extent of country called the Northern
Territory, which must become in time a separate colony, as it extends
from the 26th parallel of latitude, embracing the whole country
northwards to the Indian Ocean at the 11th parallel. South Australia
possesses one advantage over the other colonies, from the geographical
fact of her oblong territory extending, so to speak, exactly in the
middle right across the continent from the Southern to the Indian Ocean.
The dimensions of the colony are in extreme length over 1800 miles, by a
breadth of nearly 700, and almost through the centre of this vast region
the South Australian Transcontinental Telegraph line runs from Adelaide,
via Port Augusta, to Port Darwin.

<p>At the time I undertook my first expedition in 1872, this extensive
work had just been completed, and it may be said to divide the continent
into halves, which, for the purpose I then had in view, might be termed
the explored and the unexplored halves. For several years previous to my
taking the field, I had desired to be the first to penetrate into this
unknown region, where, for a thousand miles in a straight line, no white
man's foot had ever wandered, or, if it had, its owner had never brought
it back, nor told the tale. I had ever been a delighted student of the
narratives of voyages and discoveries, from Robinson Crusoe to Anson and
Cook, and the exploits on land in the brilliant accounts given by Sturt,
Mitchell, Eyre, Grey, Leichhardt, and Kennedy, constantly excited my
imagination, as my own travels may do that of future rovers, and
continually spurred me on to emulate them in the pursuit they had so
eminently graced.

<p>My object, as indeed had been Leichhardt's, was to force my way
across the thousand miles that lay untrodden and unknown, between the
South Australian telegraph line and the settlements upon the Swan River.
What hopes I formed, what aspirations came of what might be my fortune,
for I trust it will be believed that an explorer may be an imaginative
as well as a practical creature, to discover in that unknown space. Here
let me remark that the exploration of 1000 miles in Australia is equal
to 10,000 in any other part of the earth's surface, always excepting
Arctic and Antarctic travels.

<p>There was room for snowy mountains, an inland sea, ancient river, and
palmy plain, for races of new kinds of men inhabiting a new and odorous
land, for fields of gold and golcondas of gems, for a new flora and a
new fauna, and, above all the rest combined, there was room for me! Many
well-meaning friends tried to dissuade me altogether, and endeavoured to
instil into my mind that what I so ardently wished to attempt was simply
deliberate suicide, and to persuade me of the truth of the poetic line,
that the sad eye of experience sees beneath youth's radiant glow, so
that, like Falstaff, I was only partly consoled by the remark that they
hate us youth. But in spite of their experience, and probably on account
of youth's radiant glow, I was not to be deterred, however, and at last
I met with Baron von Mueller, who, himself an explorer with the two
Gregorys, has always had the cause of Australian exploration at heart,
and he assisting, I was at length enabled to take the field. Baron
Mueller and I had consulted, and it was deemed advisable that I should
make a peculiar feature near the Finke river, called Chambers' Pillar,
my point of departure for the west. This Pillar is situated in latitude
24&deg; 55&acute; and longitude 133&deg; 50&acute;, being 1200 miles
from Melbourne in a straight line, over which distance Mr. Carmichael, a
black boy, and I travelled. In the course of our travels from Melbourne
to the starting point, we reached Port Augusta, a seaport though an
inland town, at the head of Spencer's Gulf in South Australia, first
visited by the Investigator in 1803, and where, a few miles to the
eastwards, a fine bold range of mountains runs along for scores of miles
and bears the gallant navigator's name. A railway line of 250 miles now
connects Port Augusta with Adelaide. To this town was the first section
of the Transcontinental telegraph line carried; and it was in those days
the last place where I could get stores for my expedition. Various
telegraph stations are erected along the line, the average distance
between each being from 150 to 200 miles. There were eleven stations
between Port Augusta and Port Darwin. A railway is now completed as far
as the Peake Telegraph Station, about 450 miles north-westwards from
Port Augusta along the telegraph line towards Port Darwin, to which it
will no doubt be carried before many years elapse.

<p>From Port Augusta the Flinders range runs almost northerly for nearly
200 miles, throwing out numerous creeks (I must here remark that
throughout this work the word creek will often occur. This is not to be
considered in its English acceptation of an inlet from the sea, but, no
matter how far inland, it means, in Australia a watercourse.), through
rocky pine-clad glens and gorges, these all emptying, in times of flood,
into the salt lake Torrens, that peculiar depression which baffled Eyre
in 1840-1. Captain Frome, the Surveyor-General of the Colony, dispelled
the old horse-shoe-shaped illusion of this feature, and discovered that
there were several similar features instead of one. As far as the
Flinders range extends northwards, the water supply of the traveller in
that region is obtained from its watercourses. The country beyond, where
this long range falls off, continues an extensive open stony plateau or
plain, occasionally intersected with watercourses, the course of the
line of road being west of north. Most of these watercourses on the
plains fall into Lake Eyre, another and more northerly salt depression.
A curious limestone formation now occurs, and for some hundreds of miles
the whole country is open and studded with what are called
mound-springs. These are usually about fifty feet high, and ornamented
on the summit with clumps of tall reeds or bulrushes. These mounds are
natural artesian wells, through which the water, forced up from below,
gushes out over the tops to the level ground, where it forms little
water-channels at which sheep and cattle can water. Some of these mounds
have miniature lakes on their summits, where people might bathe. The
most perfect mound is called the Blanche Cup, in latitude about 29&deg;
20&acute;, and longitude 136&deg; 40&acute;.

<p>The water of some of these springs is fresh and good, the Blanche Cup
is drinkable, but the generality of them have either a mineral salt- or
soda-ish taste; at first their effect is aperient, but afterwards just
the opposite. The water is good enough for animals.

<p>The Honourable Sir Thomas Elder's sheep, cattle, horse, and camel
station, Beltana, is the first telegraph station from Port Augusta, the
distance being 150 miles. The next is at the Strangways Springs, about
200 miles distant. This station occupies a nearly central position in
this region of mound-springs; it is situated on a low rise out of the
surrounding plain; all around are dozens of these peculiar mounds. The
Messrs. Hogarth and Warren, who own the sheep and cattle station, have
springs with a sufficiently strong flow of water to spout their wool at
shearing time. The next telegraph station beyond the Strangways is the
Peake, distant 100 miles. About twenty miles northward, or rather
north-westward, from the Peake the mound-springs cease, and the country
is watered by large pools in stony watercourses and creek beds. These
pools are generally no more than twelve to fifteen miles apart. The
waters in times of flood run into Lake Eyre, which receives the Cooper
and all the flood waters of West and South-western Queensland, and all
the drainage from the hundred watercourses of Central South Australia.
The chief among the latter is the huge artery, the Finke, from the
north-west.

<p>The Charlotte Waters Station, named after Lady Charlotte Bacon, the
Ianthe of Byron, which was to be my last outpost of civilisation, is a
quadrangular stone building, plastered or painted white, having a
corrugated iron roof, and a courtyard enclosed by the two wings of the
building, having loop-holes in the walls for rifles and musketry, a
cemented water-tank dug under the yard, and tall heavy iron gates to
secure the place from attack by the natives.

<p>I may here relate an occurrence at a station farther up the line,
built upon the same principle. One evening, while the telegraph master
and staff were sitting outside the gates after the heat of the day, the
natives, knowing that the stand of arms was inside the courtyard, sent
some of their warriors to creep unseen inside and slam the gates, so as
to prevent retreat. Then from the outside an attempt to massacre was
made; several whites were speared, some were killed on the spot, others
died soon afterwards, but the greatest wonder was that any at all
escaped.

<p>The establishment at the Charlotte Waters stands on a large grassy
and pebbly plain, bounded on the north by a watercourse half a mile
away. The natives here have always been peaceful, and never displayed
any hostility to the whites. From this last station I made my way to
Chambers' Pillar, which was to be my actual starting-point for the west.

<hr>

<h5><a name="m1">Map 1</a></h5>
<h5>First Expedition, 1872.</h5>

<h3><a name="book1">BOOK 1.</a></h3>

<h4>CHAPTER 1.1. FROM 4TH TO 30TH AUGUST, 1872.</h4>
<blockquote>
The party.
Port Augusta.
The road.
The Peake.
Stony plateau.
Telegraph station.
Natives formerly hostile.
A new member.
Leave the Peake.
Black boy deserts.
Reach the Charlotte Waters Station.
Natives' account of other natives.
Leave last outpost.
Reach the Finke.
A Government party.
A ride westward.
End of the stony plateau.
A sandhill region.
Chambers' Pillar.
The Moloch horridus.
Thermometer 18&deg;.
The Finke.
Johnstone's range.
A night alarm.
Beautiful trees.
Wild ducks.
A tributary.
High dark hill.
Country rises in altitude.
Very high sandhills.
Quicksands.
New ranges.
A brush ford.
New pigeon.
Pointed hill.
A clay pan.
Christopher's Pinnacle.
Chandler's Range.
Another new range.
Sounds of running water.
First natives seen.
Name of the river.
A Central Australian warrior.
Natives burning the country.
Name a new creek.
Ascend a mountain.
Vivid green.
Discover a glen and more mountains.
Hot winds, smoke and ashes.
</blockquote>
<p>The personnel of my first expedition into the interior consisted in
the first instance of myself, Mr. Carmichael, and a young black boy. I
intended to engage the services of another white man at the furthest
outpost that I could secure one. From Port Augusta I despatched the bulk
of my stores by a team to the Peake, and made a leisurely progress up
the overland road via Beltana, the Finniss and Strangways Springs
stations. Our stores reached the Peake station before us. This station
was originally called Mount Margaret, but subsequently removed to the
mound-springs near the south bank of the Peake Creek; it was a cattle
station formed by Mr. Phillip Levi of Adelaide. The character of the
country is an open stony plateau, upon which lines of hills or ranges
rise; it is intersected by numerous watercourses, all trending to Lake
Eyre, and was an excellent cattle run. The South Australian Government
erected the telegraph station in the immediate vicinity of the cattle
station. When the cattle station was first formed in 1862 the natives
were very numerous and very hostile, but at the time of my visit, ten
years later, they were comparatively civilised. At the Peake we were
enabled to re-shoe all our horses, for the stony road up from Port
Augusta had worn out all that were put on there. I also had an extra set
fitted for each horse, rolled up in calico, and marked with its name. At
the Peake I engaged a young man named Alec Robinson, who, according to
his account, could do everything, and had been everywhere, who knew the
country I was about to explore perfectly well, and who had frequently
met and camped with blacks from the west coast, and declared we could
easily go over there in a few weeks. He died at one of the telegraph
stations a year or two after he left me. I must say he was very good at
cooking, and shoeing horses. I am able to do these useful works myself,
but I do not relish either. I had brought a light little spring cart
with me all the way from Melbourne to the Peake, which I sold here, and
my means of transit from thence was with pack-horses. After a rather
prolonged sojourn at the Peake, where I received great hospitality from
Mr. Blood, of the Telegraph Department, and from Messrs. Bagot, the
owners, and Mr. Conway, the manager, we departed for the Charlotte.

<p>My little black boy Dick, or, as he used generally to write, and call
himself, Richard Giles Kew, 1872, had been at school at Kew, near
Melbourne. He came to me from Queensland; he had visited Adelaide,
Melbourne, and Sydney, and had been with me for nearly three years, but
his fears of wild natives were terribly excited by what nearly everybody
we met said to him about them. This was not surprising, as it was
usually something to this effect, in bush parlance: &ldquo;By G&mdash;,
young feller, just you look out when you get <i>outside!</i> the wild
blacks will [adjective] soon cook you. They'll kill <i>you</i> first,
you know&mdash;they <i>will</i> like to cut out your kidney fat! They'll
sneak on yer when yer goes out after the horses, they'll have yer and
eat yer.&rdquo; This being the burden of the strain continually dinned
into the boy's ears, made him so terrified and nervous the farther we
got away from civilisation, that soon after leaving the Peake, as we
were camping one night with some bullock teams returning south, the same
stories having been told him over again, he at last made up his mind,
and told me he wanted to go back with one of the teamsters; he had
hinted about this before, and both Carmichael and Robinson seemed to be
aware of his intention. Force was useless to detain him; argument was
lost on him, and entreaty I did not attempt, so in the morning we
parted. I shall mention him again by-and-bye. He was a small, very
handsome, light-complexioned, very intelligent, but childish boy, and
was frequently mistaken for a half-caste; he was a splendid rider and
tracker, and knew almost everything. He was a great wit, as one remark
of his will show. In travelling up the country after he had been at
school, we once saw some old deserted native gunyahs, and he said to me
as we rode by, pointing to them, &ldquo;Gentleman's 'ouse, villa
residence, I s'pose, he's gone to his watering place for the season
p'r'aps.&rdquo; At another time, being at a place called Crowlands, he
asked me why it was called so. I replied pointing to a crow on a tree,
&ldquo;Why, there's the crow,&rdquo; and stamping with my foot on the
ground, &ldquo;there's the land;&rdquo; he immediately said, &ldquo;Oh,
now I know why my country is called Queensland, because it's land
belonging to our Queen.&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;Certainly it is;&rdquo;
then he said, &ldquo;Well, ain't it funny? I never knew that
before.&rdquo; In Melbourne, one day, we were leaning out of a window
overlooking the people continually passing by. Dick said, &ldquo;What
for,&mdash;white fellow always walk about&mdash;walk about in
town&mdash;when he always rides in the bush?&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;Oh,
to do their business.&rdquo; &ldquo;Business,&rdquo; he asked,
&ldquo;what's that?&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;Why, to get money, to be
sure.&rdquo; &ldquo;Money,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;white fellow can't
pick up money in the street.&rdquo;

<p>From the Peake we had only pack-horses and one little Scotch terrier
dog. Dick left us at Hann's Creek, thirty miles from the Peake. On our
road up, about halfway between the Peake and the Charlotte, we crossed
and camped at a large creek which runs into the Finke, called the
Alberga. Here we met a few natives, who were friendly enough, but who
were known to be great thieves, having stolen things from several
bullock drays, and committed other robberies; so we had to keep a sharp
look out upon them and their actions. One of their number, a young man,
could speak English pretty well, and could actually sing some songs. His
most successful effort in that line was the song of &ldquo;Jim
Crow,&rdquo; and he performed the &ldquo;turn about and wheel about and
do just so&rdquo; part of it until he got giddy, or pretended to be; and
to get rid of him and his brethren, we gave them some flour and a smoke
of tobacco, and they departed.

<p>We arrived at the Charlotte Waters station on the 4th of August,
1872; this was actually my last outpost of civilisation. My companion,
Mr. Carmichael, and I were most kindly welcomed by Mr. Johnstone, the
officer in charge of this depot, and by Mr. Chandler, a gentleman
belonging to a telegraph station farther up the line. In consequence of
their kindness, our stay was lengthened to a week. My horses were all
the better for the short respite, for they were by no means in good
fettle; but the country having been visited by rains, grass was
abundant, and the animals improving. The party consisted only of myself,
Carmichael, and Robinson; I could not now obtain another man to make up
our original number of four. We still had the little dog. during our
stay at the Charlotte I inquired of a number of the natives for
information concerning the region beyond, to the west and north-west.
They often used the words &ldquo;Larapinta and plenty black
fellow.&rdquo; Of the country to the west they seemed to know more, but
it was very difficult to get positive statements. The gist of their
information was that there were large waters, high mountains, and
plenty, plenty, wild black fellow; they said the wild blacks were very
big and fat, and had hair growing, as some said, all down their backs;
while others asserted that the hair grew all over their bodies, and that
they eat pickaninnies, and sometimes came eastward and killed any of the
members of the Charlotte tribe that they could find, and carried off all
the women they could catch. On the 12th we departed, and my intended
starting point being Chambers' Pillar, upon the Finke River, I proceeded
up the telegraph road as far as the crossing place of the above-named
watercourse, which was sixty miles by the road.

<h5><a name="i2">ILLUSTRATION 2</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t02.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>CHAMBERS' PILLAR.</h5>

<p>In the evening of the day we encamped there, a Government party,
under the charge of Mr. McMinn, surveyor, and accompanied by Mr. Harley
Bacon, a son of Lady Charlotte Bacon, arrived from the north, and we had
their company at the camp. Close to this crossing-place a large
tributary joins the Finke near the foot of Mount Humphries. On the
following day Mr. McMinn, Mr. Bacon, and I rode up its channel, and at
about twelve miles we found a water-hole and returned. The country
consisted chiefly of open sandhills well grassed. I mentioned previously
that from Port Augusta, northwards and north-westwards, the whole region
consists of an open stony plateau, upon which mountain ranges stand at
various distances; through and from these, a number of watercourses run,
and, on a section of this plateau, nearly 200 miles in extent, the
curious mound-springs exist. This formation, mostly of limestone, ceases
at, or immediately before reaching, the Finke, and then a formation of
heavy red sandhills begins. Next day our friends departed for the
Charlotte, after making me several presents. From Mr. McMinn I obtained
the course and distance of the pillar from our camp, and travelling on
the course given, we crossed the Finke three times, as it wound about so
snake-like across the country. On the 22nd we encamped upon it, having
the pillar in full view.

<h5><a name="i3">ILLUSTRATION 3</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t03.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>THE Moloch horridus.</h5>

<p>The appearance of this feature I should imagine to be unique. For a
detailed account of it my reader must consult Stuart's report.
Approaching the pillar from the south, the traveller must pass over a
series of red sandhills, covered with some scrubs, and clothed near the
ground with that abominable vegetable production, the so-called spinifex
or porcupine grass&mdash;botanically, the Triodia, or Festuca irritans.
The timber on the sandhills near the pillar is nearly all mulga, a very
hard acacia, though a few tall and well-grown casuarinas&mdash;of a kind
that is new to me, namely the C. Decaisneana&mdash;are occasionally met.
(These trees have almost a palm-like appearance, and look like huge
mops; but they grow in the driest regions.) On our route Mr. Carmichael
brought to me a most peculiar little lizard, a true native of the soil;
its colour was a yellowish-green; it was armed, or ornamented, at points
and joints, with spines, in a row along its back, sides, and legs; these
were curved, and almost sharp; on the back of its neck was a thick
knotty lump, with a spine at each side, by which I lifted it; its tail
was armed with spines to the point, and was of proportional length to
its body. The lizard was about eight inches in length. Naturalists have
christened this harmless little chameleon the Moloch horridus. I put the
little creature in a pouch, and intended to preserve it, but it managed
to crawl out of its receptacle, and dropped again to its native sand. I
had one of these lizards, as a pet, for months in Melbourne. It was
finally trodden on and died. It used to eat sugar.

<p>By this time we were close to the pillar: its outline was most
imposing. Upon reaching it, I found it to be a columnar structure,
standing upon a pedestal, which is perhaps eighty feet high, and
composed of loose white sandstone, having vast numbers of large blocks
lying about in all directions. From the centre of the pedestal rises the
pillar, composed also of the same kind of rock; at its top, and for
twenty to thirty feet from its summit, the colour of the stone is red.
The column itself must be seventy or eighty feet above the pedestal. It
is split at the top into two points. There it stands, a vast monument of
the geological periods that must have elapsed since the mountain ridge,
of which it was formerly a part, was washed by the action of old Ocean's
waves into mere sandhills at its feet. The stone is so friable that
names can be cut in it to almost any depth with a pocket-knife: so
loose, indeed, is it, that one almost feels alarmed lest it should fall
while he is scratching at its base. In a small orifice or chamber of the
pillar I discovered an opossum asleep, the first I had seen in this part
of the country. We turned our backs upon this peculiar monument, and
left it in its loneliness and its grandeur&mdash;&ldquo;clothed in white
sandstone, mystic, wonderful!&rdquo;

<p>From hence we travelled nearly west, and in seventeen miles came to
some very high sandhills, at whose feet the river swept. We followed
round them to a convenient spot, and one where our horses could water
without bogging. The bed of the Finke is the most boggy creek-channel I
have ever met. As we had travelled several miles in the morning to the
pillar, and camped eighteen beyond it, it was late in the afternoon when
we encamped. The country we passed over was mostly scrubby sandhills,
covered with porcupine grass. Where we struck the channel there was a
long hole of brine. There was plenty of good grass on the river flat;
and we got some tolerably good water where we fixed our camp. When we
had finished our evening meal, the shades of night descended upon us, in
this our first bivouac in the unknown interior. By observations of the
bright stars Vega and Altair, I found my latitude was 24&deg; 52&acute;
15&acute;&acute;; the night was excessively cold, and by daylight next
morning the thermometer had fallen to 18&deg;. Our blankets and packs
were covered with a thick coating of ice; and tea left in our pannikins
overnight had become solid cakes.

<p>The country here being soft and sandy, we unshod all the horses and
carried the shoes. So far as I could discern with the glasses, the river
channel came from the west, but I decided to go north-west, as I was
sure it would turn more northerly in time; and I dreaded being caught in
a long bend, and having to turn back many miles, or chance the loss of
some or all the horses in a boggy crossing. To the south a line of hills
appeared, where the natives were burning the spinifex in all directions.
These hills had the appearance of red sandstone; and they had a series
of ancient ocean watermarks along their northern face, traceable for
miles. This I called Johnstone's Range. As another night approached, we
could see, to the north, the brilliant flames of large grass fires,
which had only recently been started by some prowling sons of the soil,
upon their becoming aware of our presence in their domain. The nights
now were usually very cold. One night some wild man or beast must have
been prowling around our camp, for my little dog Monkey exhibited signs
of great perturbation for several hours. We kept awake, listening for
some sounds that might give us an idea of the intruders; and being sure
that we heard the tones of human voices, we got our rifles in readiness.
The little dog barked still more furiously, but the sounds departed: we
heard them no more: and the rest of the night passed in silence&mdash;in
silence and beautiful rest.

<p>We had not yet even sighted the Finke, upon my north-west course; but
I determined to continue, and was rewarded by coming suddenly upon it
under the foot of high sandhills. Its course now was a good deal to the
north. The horses being heavily packed, and the spinifex distressing
them so much, we found a convenient spot where the animals could water
without bogging, and camped. Hard by, were some clumps of the
fine-looking casuarinas; they grow to a height of twenty to twenty-five
feet of barrel without a branch, and then spread out to a fine umbrella
top; they flourish out of pure red sand. The large sheet of water at the
camp had wild ducks on it: some of these we shot. The day was very
agreeable, with cool breezes from the north-west. A tributary joins the
Finke here from the west, and a high dark hill forms its southern
embankment: the western horizon is bounded by broken lines of hills, of
no great elevation. As we ascend the river, the country gradually rises,
and we are here about 250 feet above the level of the Charlotte Waters
Station.

<p>Finding the river now trended not only northerly, but even east of
north, we had to go in that direction, passing over some very high
sandhills, where we met the Finke at almost right angles. Although the
country was quite open, it was impossible to see the river channel, even
though fringed with rows of splendid gum-trees, for any distance, as it
became hidden by the high sandhills. I was very reluctant to cross, on
account of the frightfully boggy bed of the creek, but, rather than
travel several miles roundabout, I decided to try it. We got over,
certainly, but to see one's horses and loads sinking bodily in a mass of
quaking quicksand is by no means an agreeable sight, and it was only by
urging the animals on with stock-whips, to prevent them delaying, that
we accomplished the crossing without loss. Our riding horses got the
worst of it, as the bed was so fearfully ploughed up by the pack-horses
ahead of them. The whole bed of this peculiar creek appears to be a
quicksand, and when I say it was nearly a quarter of a mile wide, its
formidable nature will be understood. Here a stream of slightly brackish
water was trickling down the bed in a much narrower channel, however,
than its whole width; and where the water appears upon the surface,
there the bog is most to be apprehended. Sometimes it runs under one
bank, sometimes under the opposite, and again, at other places the water
occupies the mid-channel. A horse may walk upon apparently firm sand
towards the stream, when, without a second's warning, horse and rider
may be engulfed in quicksand; but in other places, where it is firmer,
it will quake for yards all round, and thus give some slight warning.

<p>Crossing safely, and now having the river on my right hand, we
continued our journey, sighting a continuous range of hills to the
north, which ran east and west, and with the glasses I could see the
river trending towards them. I changed my course for a conspicuous hill
in this new line, which brought me to the river again at right angles;
and, having so successfully crossed in the morning, I decided to try it
again. We descended to the bank, and after great trouble found a spot
firm enough and large enough to allow all the horses to stand upon it at
one time, but we could not find a place where they could climb the
opposite bank, for under it was a long reach of water, and a quagmire
extending for more than a mile on either side. Two of our riding-horses
were badly bogged in trying to find a get-away: finally, we had to cut
boughs and sticks, and bridge the place over with them. Thus we
eventually got the horses over one by one without accident or loss. In
four miles we touched on a bend of the river again, but had no occasion
to recross, as it was not in our road. This day, having wasted so much
time in the crossings, we travelled only fifteen miles. The horizon from
this camp was bounded from south-west, and west, round by north, to
north-west, by ranges; which I was not sorry to perceive. Those to the
west, and south-west, were the highest and most pointed. It appears that
the Finke must come under or through some of those to the north-west.
To-day I observed a most beautiful pigeon, quite new to me; it was of a
dark-brown colour, mottled under the throat and on the breast; it had
also a high top-knot. It is considerably smaller than the Sturt pigeon
of his Central Australian expedition.

<p>It was now the 28th of August, and the temperature of the atmosphere
was getting warmer. Journeying now again about north-west, we reached a
peculiar pointed hill with the Finke at its foot. We passed over the
usual red sandhill country covered with the porcupine grass,
characteristic of the Finke country, and saw a shallow sheet of yellow
rain water in a large clay pan, which is quite an unusual feature in
this part of the world, clay being so conspicuous by its absence. The
hill, when we reached it, assumed the appearance of a high pinnacle;
broken fragments of rock upon its sides and summit showed it too rough
and precipitous to climb with any degree of pleasure. I named it
Christopher's Pinnacle, after a namesake of mine. The range behind it I
named Chandler's Range. For some miles we had seen very little porcupine
grass, but here we came into it again, to the manifest disgust of our
horses. We had now a line of hills on our right, with the river on our
left hand, and in six or seven miles came to the west end of Chandler's
Range, and could see to the north and north-west another, and much
higher the line running parallel to Chandler's Range, but extending to
the west as far as I could see. The country hereabouts has been nearly
all burnt by the natives, and the horses endeavour to pick roads where
the dreaded triodia has been destroyed.

<p>We passed a few clumps of casuarinas and a few stunted trees with
broad, poplar-like leaves. Travelling for twelve miles on this bearing,
we struck the Finke again, running nearly north and south. Here the
river had a stony bed with a fine reach of water in it; so to-night at
least our anxiety as regards the horses bogging is at an end. The stream
purling over its stony floor produces a most agreeable sound, such as I
have not heard for many a day. Here I might say, &ldquo;Brightly the
brook through the green leaflets, giddy with joyousness, dances
along.&rdquo;

<p>Soon after we had unpacked and let go our horses, we were accosted by
a native on the opposite side of the creek. Our little dog became
furious; then two natives appeared. We made an attempt at a long
conversation, but signally failed, for neither of us knew many of the
words the other was saying. The only bit of information I obtained from
them was their name for the river&mdash;as they kept continually
pointing to it and repeating the word Larapinta. This word, among the
Peake and Charlotte natives, means a snake, and from the continual
serpentine windings of this peculiar and only Central Australian river,
no doubt the name is derived. I shot a hawk for them, and they departed.
The weather to-day was fine, with agreeable cool breezes; the sky has
become rather overcast; the flies are very numerous and troublesome; and
it seems probable we may have a slight fall of rain before long.

<p>A few drops of rain fell during the night, which made me regret that
I had not our tarpaulins erected, though no more fell. In the morning
there was sultriness in the air though the sky was clear; the
thermometer stood at 52&deg;, and at sunrise a smoky haze pervaded the
whole sky. Whilst we were packing up the horses this morning, the same
two natives whom we saw last night, again made their appearance,
bringing with them a third, who was painted, feathered, greased, and
red-ochred, in, as they doubtless thought, the most alarming manner. I
had just mounted my horse, and rode towards them, thinking to get some
more information from the warrior as to the course of the creek, etc.,
but when they saw the horse approaching they scampered off, and the
bedizened warrior projected himself into the friendly branches of the
nearest tree with the most astonishing velocity. Perceiving that it was
useless to try to approach them, without actually running them to earth,
we left them; and crossing the river easily over its stony bed, we
continued north-west towards a mountain in the ranges that traversed the
horizon in that direction. The river appeared to come from the same
spot. A breeze from the north-west caused the dust raised by the
pack-horses, which we drove in a mob before us, travelling upon the
loose soil where the spinifex had all been lately burnt, to blow
directly in our faces. At five miles we struck on a bend of a river, and
we saw great volumes of smoke from burning grass and triodia rising in
all directions. The natives find it easier to catch game when the ground
is bare, or covered only with a short vegetation, than when it is
clothed with thick coarse grasses or pungent shrubs. A tributary from
the north, or east of north, joined the Finke on this course, but it was
destitute of water at the junction. Soon now the river swept round to
the westward, along the foot of the hills we were approaching. Here a
tributary from the west joined, having a slender stream of water running
along its bed. It was exceedingly boggy, and we had to pass up along it
for over two miles before we could find a place to cross to enable us to
reach the main stream, now to the north of us. I called this McMinn's
Creek.

<p>On reaching the Finke we encamped. In the evening I ascended a
mountain to the north-westward of us. It was very rough, stony, and
precipitous, and composed of red sandstone; its summit was some 800 feet
above our camp. It had little other vegetation upon it than huge plots
of triodia, of the most beautiful and vivid green, and set with the most
formidable spines. Whenever one moves, these spines enter the clothes in
all directions, making it quite a torture to walk about among them. From
here I could see that the Finke turned up towards these hills through a
glen, in a north-westerly direction. Other mountains appeared to the
north and north-west; indeed this seemed to be a range of mountains of
great length and breadth. To the eastwards it may stretch to the
telegraph line, and to the west as far as the eye could see. The sun had
gone down before I had finished taking bearings. Our road to-morrow will
be up through the glen from which the river issues. All day a most
objectionable hot wind has been blowing, and clouds of smoke and ashes
from the fires, and masses of dust from the loose soil ploughed up by
the horses in front of us, and blowing in our faces, made it one of the
most disagreeable days I ever passed. At night, however, a contrast
obtained&mdash;the wind dropped, and a calm, clear, and beautiful night
succeeded to the hot, smoky, and dusty day. Vega alone gave me my
latitude here, close to the mouth of the glen, as 24&deg; 25&acute;
12&acute;&acute;; and, though the day had been so hot and disagreeable,
the night proved cold and chilly, the thermometer falling to 24&deg; by
daylight, but there was no frost, or even any dew to freeze.

<hr>

<h4><a name="ch1.2">CHAPTER 1.2. FROM 30TH AUGUST TO 6TH SEPTEMBER, 1872.</a></h4>
<blockquote>
Milk thistle. 
In the glen. 
A serpentine and rocky road. 
Name a new creek. 
Grotesque hills. 
Caves and caverns. 
Cypress pines. 
More natives. 
Astonish them. 
Agreeable scenery. 
Sentinel stars. 
Pelicans. 
Wild and picturesque scenery. 
More natives. 
Palm-trees. 
A junction in the glen. 
High ranges to the north. 
Palms and flowers. 
The Glen of Palms. 
Slight rain. 
Rain at night. 
Plant various seeds. 
End of the glen. 
Its length. 
Krichauff Range. 
The northern range. 
Level country between. 
A gorge. 
A flooded channel. 
Cross a western tributary. 
Wild ducks. 
Ramble among the mountains. 
Their altitude.
A splendid panorama. 
Progress stopped by a torrent and impassable gorge. 
</blockquote>
<p>Our start this morning was late, some of our horses having wandered
in the night, the feed at the camp not being very good; indeed the only
green herb met by us, for some considerable distance, has been the sow
or milk thistle (Sonchus oleraceus), which grows to a considerable
height. Of this the horses are extremely fond: it is also very
fattening. Entering the mouth of the glen, in two miles we found
ourselves fairly enclosed by the hills, which shut in the river on both
sides. We had to follow the windings of the serpentine channel; the
mountains occasionally forming steep precipices overhanging the stream,
first upon one side, then upon the other. We often had to lead the
horses separately over huge ledges of rock, and frequently had to cut
saplings and lever them out of the way, continually crossing and
recrossing the river. On camping in the glen we had only made good
eleven miles, though to accomplish this we had travelled more than
double the distance. At the camp a branch creek came out of the
mountains to the westwards, which I named Phillip's Creek. The whole of
this line of ranges is composed of red sandstone in large or small
fragments, piled up into the most grotesque shapes. Here and there caves
and caverns exist in the sides of the hills.

<h5><a name="i4">ILLUSTRATION 4</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t04.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>VIEW IN THE GLEN OF PALMS.</h5>

<p>A few trees of the cypress pine (Callitris) were seen upon the
summits of the higher mounts. The hills and country generally seen in
this glen are more fertile than those outside, having real grass instead
of triodia upon their sides. I saw two or three natives just before
camping; they kept upon the opposite side of the water, according to a
slight weakness of theirs. Just at the time I saw them, I had my eye on
some ducks upon the water in the river bed, I therefore determined to
kill two birds with one stone; that is to say, to shoot the ducks and
astonish the natives at the same time. I got behind a tree, the natives
I could see were watching me most intently the while, and fired. Two
ducks only were shot, the remainder of the birds and the natives,
apparently, flying away together. Our travels to-day were very
agreeable; the day was fine, the breezes cool, and the scenery
continually changing, the river taking the most sinuous windings
imaginable; the bed of it, as might be expected in such a glen, is rough
and stony, and the old fear of the horses bogging has departed from us.
By bearings back upon hills at the mouth of the glen I found our course
was nearly north 23&deg; west. The night was clear and cold; the stars,
those sentinels of the sky, appeared intensely bright. To the explorer
they must ever be objects of admiration and love, as to them he is
indebted for his guidance through the untrodden wilderness he is
traversing. &ldquo;And sweet it is to watch them in the evening skies
weeping dew from their gentle eyes.&rdquo; Several hundred pelicans,
those antediluvian birds, made their appearance upon the water early
this morning, but seeing us they flew away before a shot could be fired.
These birds came from the north-west; indeed, all the aquatic birds that
I have seen upon the wing, come and go in that direction. I am in hopes
of getting through this glen to-day, for however wild and picturesque
the scenery, it is very difficult and bad travelling for the unshod
horses; consequently it is difficult to get them along. There was no
other road to follow than the windings of the river bed through this
mountain-bound glen, in the same manner as yesterday. Soon after
starting, I observed several natives ahead of us; immediately upon their
discovering us they raised a great outcry, which to our ears did not
exactly resemble the agreeable vibration of the melodious sound, it
being quite the opposite. Then of course signal fires were made which
raised great volumes of smoke, the natives thinking perhaps to
intimidate and prevent us from farther advance. Neither of these effects
was produced, so their next idea was to depart themselves, and they ran
ahead of us up the glen. I also saw another lot of some twenty or thirty
scudding away over the rocks and stony hills&mdash;these were probably
the women and children. Passing their last night's encampment, we saw
that they had left all their valuables behind them&mdash;these we left
untouched. One old gentleman sought the security of a shield of rock,
where this villain upon earth and fiend in upper air most vehemently
apostrophised us, and probably ordered us away out of his territory. To
the command in itself we paid little heed, but as it fell in with our
own ideas, we endeavoured to carry it out as fast as possible. This, I
trust, was satisfactory, as I always like to do what pleases others,
especially when it coincides with my own views.

<p class="poem">&ldquo;It's a very fine thing, and delightful to see
<br>Inclination and duty both join and agree.&rdquo;

<p>Some of the natives near him threatened us with their spears, and
waved knobbed sticks at us, but we departed without any harm being done
on either side.

<h5><a name="i5">ILLUSTRATION 5</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t05.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>THE PALM-TREE FOUND IN THE GLEN OF PALMS.</h5>

<p>Soon after leaving the natives, we had the gratification of
discovering a magnificent specimen of the Fan palm, a species of
Livistona, allied to one in the south of Arnhem's Land, and now
distinguished as the Maria Palm (Baron von Mueller), growing in the
channel of the watercourse with flood drifts against its stem. Its
dark-hued, dome-shaped frondage contrasted strangely with the paler
green foliage of the eucalyptus trees that surrounded it. It was a
perfectly new botanical feature to me, nor did I expect to meet it in
this latitude. &ldquo;But there's a wonderful power in latitude, it
alters a man's moral relations and attitude.&rdquo; I had noticed some
strange vegetation in the dry flood drifts lower down, and was on the
qui vive for something new, but I did not know that. This fine tree was
sixty feet long, or high, in the barrel. Passing the palms, we continued
amongst the defiles of this mountain glen, which appears to have no
termination, for no signs of a break or anything but a continuation of
the range could be observed from any of the hills I ascended.

<p>It was late in the afternoon when we left the palm-groves, and though
we travelled over twenty miles in distance could only make twelve good
from last camp. Although this glen was rough and rocky, yet the purling
of the water over its stony bed was always a delightful sound to me; and
when the winds of evening fanned us to repose, it seemed as though some
kindly spirit whispered that it would guard us while we slept and when
the sun declined the swift stream echoed on.

<p>The following day being Sunday, the 1st September, I made it a day of
rest, for the horses at least, whose feet were getting sore from
continued travel over rocks and boulders of stone. I made an excursion
into the hills, to endeavour to discover when and where this apparently
interminable glen ceased, for with all its grandeur, picturesqueness,
and variety, it was such a difficult road for the horses, that I was
getting heartily tired of it; besides this, I feared this range might be
its actual source, and that I should find myself eventually blocked and
stopped by impassable water-choked gorges, and that I should finally
have to retreat to where I first entered it. I walked and climbed over
several hills, cliffs, and precipices, of red sandstone, to the west of
the camp, and at length reached the summit of a pine-clad mountain
considerably higher than any other near it. Its elevation was over 1000
feet above the level of the surrounding country. From it I obtained a
view to all points of the compass except the west, and could descry
mountains, from the north-east round by north to the north-north west,
at which point a very high and pointed mount showed its top above the
others in its neighbourhood, over fifty miles away. To the north and
east of north a massive chain, with many dome-shaped summits, was
visible. Below, towards the camp, I could see the channel of the river
where it forced its way under the perpendicular sides of the hills, and
at a spot not far above the camp it seemed split in two, or rather was
joined by another watercourse from the northwards. From the junction the
course of the main stream was more directly from the west. Along the
course of the tributary at about ten miles I could see an apparently
open piece of country, and with the glasses there appeared a sheet of
water upon it. I was glad to find a break in the chain, though it was
not on the line I should travel. Returning to my companions, I imparted
to them the result of my observations.

<p>On Monday, the 2nd, there was a heaviness in the atmosphere that felt
like approaching rain. The thermometer during the night had not fallen
below 60&deg;; over 4&deg; higher than at our first night's camp from
the pillar. To-day, again following the mazy windings of the glen, we
passed the northern tributary noticed yesterday, and continued on over
rocks, under precipices, crossing and re-crossing the channel, and
turning to all points of the compass, so that nearly three miles had to
be travelled to make good one. Clumps of the beautiful palms were
occasionally passed, growing mostly in the river bed, and where they
appear, they considerably enliven the scenery. During my sojourn in this
glen, and indeed from first starting, I collected a great number of most
beautiful flowers, which grow in profusion in this otherwise desolate
glen. I was literally surrounded by fair flowers of every changing hue.
Why Nature should scatter such floral gems upon such a stony sterile
region it is difficult to understand, but such a variety of lovely
flowers of every kind and colour I had never met with previously. Nature
at times, indeed, delights in contrasts, for here exists a land
&ldquo;where bright flowers are all scentless, and songless bright
birds.&rdquo; The flowers alone would have induced me to name this Glen
Flora; but having found in it also so many of the stately palm trees, I
have called it the Glen of Palms. Peculiar indeed, and romantic too, is
this new-found watery glen, enclosed by rocky walls, &ldquo;Where
dial-like, to portion time, the palm-tree's shadow falls.&rdquo;

<p>While we were travelling to-day, a few slight showers fell, giving us
warning in their way that heavier falls might come. We were most anxious
to reach the northern mouth of the glen if possible before night, so
heartily tired were we of so continuously serpentine a track; we
therefore kept pushing on. We saw several natives to-day, but they
invariably fled to the fastnesses of their mountain homes, they raised
great volumes of smoke, and their strident vociferations caused a dull
and buzzing sound even when out of ear-shot. The pattering of the
rain-drops became heavier, yet we kept on, hoping at every turn to see
an opening which would free us from our prison-house; but night and
heavier rain together came, and we were compelled to remain another
night in the palmy glen. I found a small sloping, sandy, firm piece of
ground, probably the only one in the glen, a little off from the creek,
having some blood-wood or red gum-trees growing upon it, and above the
reach of any flood-mark&mdash;for it is necessary to be careful in
selecting a site on a watercourse, as, otherwise, in a single instant
everything might be swept to destruction. We were fortunate indeed to
find such a refuge, as it was large enough for the horses to graze on,
and there was some good feed upon it. By the time we had our tarpaulins
fixed, and everything under cover, the rain fell in earnest. The
tributary passed this morning was named Ellery's Creek. The actual
distance we travelled to-day was eighteen miles; to accomplish this we
travelled from morn till night. Although the rain continued at intervals
all night, no great quantity fell. In the morning the heavens were clear
towards the south, but to the north dense nimbus clouds covered the
hills and darkened the sky. Not removing the camp, I took another ramble
into the hills to the east of the camp, and from the first rise I saw
what I was most anxious to see, that is to say, the end, or rather the
beginning of the glen, which occurred at about two miles beyond our
camp. Beyond that the Finke came winding from the north-west, but clouds
obscured a distant view. It appeared that rain must still be falling
north of us, and we had to seek the shelter of our canvas home. At
midday the whole sky became overclouded, rain came slowly down, and when
the night again descended heavier still was then the fall. At an hour
after daylight on the morrow the greatest volume fell, and continued for
several hours. At midday it held up sufficiently to enable me to plant
some seeds of various trees, plants, vegetables, etc., given me
specially by Baron von Mueller. Among these were blue gum (tree),
cucumbers, melons, culinary vegetables, white maize, prairie grass,
sorghum, rye, and wattle-tree seeds, which I soaked before planting.
Although the rain lasted thirty-six hours in all, only about an inch
fell. It was with great pleasure that at last, on the 5th, we left the
glen behind us, and in a couple of miles debouched upon a plain, which
ran up to the foot of this line of ranges. The horses seemed to be
especially pleased to be on soft ground again. The length of this glen
is considerable, as it occupies 31 minutes of latitude. The main bearing
of it is nearly north 25&deg; west; it is the longest feature of the
kind I ever traversed, being over forty miles straight, and over a
hundred miles of actual travelling, and it appeared the only pass
through the range, which I named the Krichauff. To the north a higher
and more imposing chain existed, apparently about twenty miles away.
This northern chain must be the western portion of the McDonnell Range.
The river now is broader than in the glen; its bed, however, is stony,
and not boggy, the country level, sandy, and thinly timbered, mostly all
the vegetation being burnt by grass fires set alight by the natives.

<p>Travelling now upon the right bank of this stream, we cut off most of
the bends, which, however, were by no means so extensive or so
serpentine as in the glen or on the south side of it. Keeping near the
river bank, we met but little porcupine grass for the most part of the
day's stage, but there was abundance of it further off. The river took
us to the foot of the big mountains, and we camped about a mile below a
gorge through which it issues. As we neared the new hills, we became
aware that the late rains were raising the waters of the river. At six
miles before camping we crossed a tributary joining the Finke at right
angles from the west, where there are some ranges in that direction; a
slight stream was running down the bed. My next anxiety is to discover
where this river comes from, or whether its sources are to be found in
this chain. The day was delightfully fine and cool, the breezes seemed
to vibrate the echo of an air which Music, sleeping at her instrument,
had ceased to play. The ground is soft after the late rains. I said we
camped a mile below a gorge; at night I found my position to be in
latitude 23&deg; 40&acute;, and longitude 132&deg; 31&acute;, the
variation 3&deg; east. We shot a few ducks, which were very fat and
good. This morning I took a walk into the hills to discover the best
route to take next. The high ranges north seem to be formed of three
separate lines, all running east and west; the most northerly being the
highest, rising over 2000 feet above the level of the surrounding
country, and, according to my barometrical and boiling-point
measurements, I found that at the Charlotte Waters I was 900 feet above
the sea. From that point up to the foot of these mountains the country
had steadily risen, as we traced the Finke, over 1000 feet, so that the
highest points of that range are over 4000 feet above sea level; the
most southerly of the three lines is composed of sandstone, the middle
and highest tiers I think change to granite. I climbed for several hours
over masses of hills, but always found one just a little farther on to
shut out the view. At length I reached the summit of a high round
mountain in the middle tier, and a most varied and splendid panorama was
spread before me, or I was spread before it.

<p>To the north was the main chain, composed for the most part of
individual high mounts, there being a valley between them and the hill I
was on, and meandering along through this valley from the west I could
trace the course of the Finke by its timber for some miles. To the east
a mass of high and jumbled hills appeared, and one bluff-faced mount was
more conspicuous than the rest. Nearer to me, and almost under my feet,
was the gorge through which the river passes, and it appears to be the
only pass through this chain. I approached the precipice overlooking the
gorge, and found the channel so flooded by the late rains, that it was
impossible to get the horses up through it. The hills which enclosed it
were equally impracticable, and it was utterly useless to try to get
horses over them. The view to the west was gratifying, for the ranges
appeared to run on in undiminished height in that direction, or a little
north of it. From the face of several of the hills climbed to-day, I saw
streams of pure water running, probably caused by the late rains. One
hill I passed over I found to be composed of puddingstone, that is to
say, a conglomeration of many kinds of stone mostly rounded and mixed up
in a mass, and formed by the smothered bubblings of some ancient and
ocean-quenched volcano. The surface of the place now more particularly
mentioned had been worn smooth by the action of the passage of water, so
that it presented the appearance of an enormous tessellated pavement,
before which the celebrated Roman one at Bognor, in Sussex, which I
remember, when I was a boy, on a visit to Goodwood, though more
artistically but not more fantastically arranged, would be compelled to
hide its diminished head. In the course of my rambles I noticed a great
quantity of beautiful flowers upon the hills, of similar kinds to those
collected in the Glen of Palms, and these interested me so greatly, that
the day passed before I was aware, and I was made to remember the line,
&ldquo;How noiseless falls the foot of Time that only treads on
flowers.&rdquo; I saw two kangaroos and one rock wallaby, but they were
too wild to allow me to approach near enough to get a shot at them. When
I said I walked to-day, I really started on an old favourite horse
called Cocky, that had carried me for years, and many a day have I had
to thank him for getting me out of difficulties through his splendid
powers of endurance. I soon found the hills too rough for a horse, so
fixing up his bridle, I said, &ldquo;Now you stop there till I come
back.&rdquo; I believe he knew everything I said, for I used frequently
to talk to him. When I came back at night, not thinking he would stay,
as the other horses were all feeding within half a mile of him, there he
was just as I had left him. I was quite inclined to rest after my
scrambles in the hills. During the night nothing occurred to disturb our
slumbers, which indeed were aided by the sounds of the rippling stream,
which sang to us a soothing song.

<hr>

<h4><a name="ch1.3">CHAPTER 1.3. FROM 6TH TO 17TH SEPTEMBER, 1872.</a></h4>
<blockquote>
Progress stopped.
Fall back on a tributary.
River flooded.
A new range.
Rudall's Creek.
Reach the range.
Grass-trees.
Wild beauty of scene.
Scarcity of water.
A pea-like vetch.
Name the range.
A barren spot.
Water seen from it.
Follow a creek channel.
Other creeks join it.
A confined glen.
Scrubby and stony hills.
Strike a gum creek.
Slimy water.
A pretty tree.
Flies troublesome.
Emus.
An orange tree.
Tropic of Capricorn.
Melodious sounds.
Carmichael's Creek.
Mountains to the north.
Ponds of water.
A green plain.
Clay-pan water.
Fine herbage.
Kangaroos and emus numerous.
A new tree.
Agreeable encampment.
Peculiar mountains.
High peak.
Start to ascend it.
Game plentiful.
Racecourse plain.
Surrounded by scrubs.
A bare slope.
A yawning chasm.
Appearance of the peak.
Gleaming pools.
Cypress pines.
The tropic clime of youth.
Proceed westwards.
Thick scrubs.
Native method of procuring water.
A pine-clad hill.
A watercourse to the south.
A poor supply of water.
Skywards the only view.
Horses all gone.
Increasing temperature.
Attempt ascending high bluff.
Timberless mountains.
Beautiful flowers.
Sultry night.
Wretched encampment.
Depart from it.
</blockquote>
<p>I had come to the decision, as it was impossible to follow the Finke
through the gorge in consequence of the flood, and as the hills were
equally impracticable, to fall back upon the tributary I had noticed the
day before yesterday as joining the river from the west, thinking I
might in twenty or thirty miles find a gap in the northern range that
would enable me to reach the Finke again. The night was very cold, the
thermometer at daylight stood at 28&deg;. The river had risen still
higher in the night, and it was impossible to pass through the gorge. We
now turned west-south-west, in order to strike the tributary. Passing
first over rough stony ridges, covered with porcupine grass, we entered
a sandy, thickly-bushed country, and struck the creek in ten miles. A
new range lying west I expected to be the source of it, but it now
seemed to turn too much to the south. There was very poor grass, it
being old and dry, but as the new range to the west was too distant, we
encamped, as there was water. This watercourse was called Rudall's
Creek. A cold and very dewy night made all our packs, blankets, etc.,
wet and clammy; the mercury fell below freezing point, but instantly
upon the sun's appearance it went up enormously. The horses rambled, and
it was late when we reached the western range, as our road was beset by
some miles of dense scrubs. The range was isolated, and of some
elevation. As we passed along the creek, the slight flood became
slighter still; it had now nearly ceased running. The day was one of the
warmest we had yet experienced. The creek now seemed not to come from
the range, but, thinking water might be got there so soon after rains,
we travelled up to its foot. The country was sandy, and bedecked with
triodia, but near the range I saw for the first time on this expedition
a quantity of the Australian grass-tree (Xanthorrhoea) dotting the
landscape. They were of all heights, from two to twenty feet. The
country round the base of this range is not devoid of a certain kind of
wild beauty. A few blood-wood or red gum-trees, with their brilliant
green foliage, enlivened the scene.

<p>A small creek, lined with gum-trees, issued from an opening or glen,
up which I rode in search of water, but was perfectly unsuccessful, as
not a drop of the life-sustaining fluid was to be found. Upon returning
to impart this discouraging intelligence to my companions, I stumbled
upon a small quantity in a depression, on a broad, almost square boulder
of rock that lay in the bed of the creek. There was not more than two
quarts. As the horses had watered in the afternoon, and as there was a
quantity of a herb, much like a green vetch or small pea, we encamped. I
ascended a small eminence to the north, and with the glasses could
distinguish the creek last left, now running east and west. I saw water
gleaming in its channel, and at the junction of the little creek we were
now on; there was also water nearly east. As the horses were feeding
down the creek that way, I felt sure they would go there and drink in
the night. It is, however, very strange whenever one wants horses to do
a certain thing or feed a certain way, they are almost sure to do just
the opposite, and so it was in the present case. On returning to camp by
a circuitous route, I found in a small rocky crevice an additional
supply of water, sufficient for our own requirements&mdash;there was
nearly a bucketful&mdash;and felicity reigned in the camp. A few cypress
pines are rooted in the rocky shelving sides of the range, which is not
of such elevation as it appeared from a distance. The highest points are
not more than from 700 to 800 feet. I collected some specimens of
plants, which, however, are not peculiar to this range. I named it
Gosse's range, after Mr. Harry Gosse. The late rains had not visited
this isolated mass. It is barren and covered with spinifex from turret
to basement, wherever sufficient soil can be found among the stones to
admit of its growth.

<p>The night of the 9th of September, like the preceding, was cold and
dewy. The horses wandered quite in the wrong direction, and it was
eleven o'clock before we got away from the camp and went north to the
sheet of water seen yesterday, where we watered the horses and followed
up the creek, as its course here appeared to be from the west. The
country was level, open, and sandy, but covered with the widely
pervading triodia (irritans). Some more Xanthorrhoea were seen, and
several small creeks joined this from the ranges to the north. Small
sheets of water were seen in the creek as we passed along, but whether
they existed before the late rains is very problematical. The weather is
evidently getting warmer. We had been following this creek for two days;
it now turned up into a confined glen in a more northerly direction. At
last its northern course was so pronounced we had to leave it, as it
evidently took its rise amongst the low hills in that direction, which
shut out any view of the higher ranges behind them. Our road was now
about west-north-west, over wretched, stony, barren, mallee (Eucalyptus)
covered low hills or stony rises; the mallee scrub being so thick, it
was difficult to drive the horses through it. Farther on we crested the
highest ground the horses had yet passed over. From here with the
glasses I fancied I saw the timber of a creek in a valley to the
north-west, in which direction we now went, and struck the channel of a
small dry watercourse, whose banks were lined with gum-trees. When there
is any water in its channel, its flow is to the west. The creek joined
another, in which, after following it for a mile or two, I found a small
pool of water, which had evidently lain there for many months, as it was
half slime, and drying up fast. It was evident the late rains had not
fallen here.

<p>In consequence of the windings of the creeks, we travelled upon all
points of the compass, but our main course was a little west of
north-west. The day was warm enough, and when we camped we felt the
benefit of what shade the creek timber could afford. Some of the small
vetch, or pea-like plant, of which the horses are so fond, existed here.
To-day we saw a single quandong tree (Fusanus; one of the sandal woods,
but not of commerce) in full bearing, but the fruit not yet ripe. I also
saw a pretty drooping acacia, whose leaves hung in small bunches
together, giving it an elegant and pendulous appearance. This tree grows
to a height of fifty feet; and some were over a foot through in the
barrel.

<p>The flies to-day were exceedingly troublesome: a sure sign of
increasing temperature. We saw some emus, but being continually hunted
by the natives, they were too shy to allow us to get within shot of
them. Some emu steaks would come in very handy now. Near our pool of
slime a so-called native orange tree (Capparis), of a very poor and
stunted habit, grew; and we allowed it to keep on growing.

<p>The stars informed me, in the night, that I was almost under the
tropic line, my latitude being 23&deg; 29&acute;. The horses fed well on
the purple vetch, their bells melodiously tinkling in the air the whole
night long. The sound of the animals' bells, in the night, is really
musical to the explorer's ear. I called the creek after Mr. Carmichael;
and hoping it would contain good water lower down, decided to follow it,
as it trended to the west. We found, however, in a few miles, it went
considerably to the south of west, when it eventually turned up again to
the north-west.

<p>We still had the main line of mountains on our right, or north of us:
and now, to the south, another line of low hills trended up towards
them; and there is evidently a kind of gap between the two lines of
ranges, about twenty-five miles off. The country along the banks of
Carmichael's Creek was open and sandy, with plenty of old dry grass, and
not much triodia; but to the south, the latter and mallee scrub
approached somewhat near. We saw several small ponds of water as we
passed along, but none of any size. In seven or eight miles it split
into several channels, and eventually exhausted itself upon an open
grassy swamp or plain. The little plain looked bright and green. I found
some rain water, in clay pans, upon it. A clay pan is a small area of
ground, whose top soil has been washed or blown away, leaving the hard
clay exposed; and upon this surface, one, two, three, or (scarcely) more
inches of rain water may remain for some days after rain: the longer it
remains the thicker it gets, until at last it dries in cakes which shine
like tiles; these at length crumble away, and the clay pan is swept by
winds clean and ready for the next shower. In the course of time it
becomes enlarged and deepened. They are very seldom deep enough for
ducks.

<p>The grass and herbage here were excellent. There were numerous
kangaroos and emus on the plain, but they preferred to leave us in
undisturbed possession of it. There were many evidences of native
camping places about here; and no doubt the natives look upon this
little circle as one of their happy hunting grounds. To-day I noticed a
tree in the mallee very like a Currajong tree. This being the most
agreeable and fertile little spot I had seen, we did not shift the camp,
as the horses were in clover. Our little plain is bounded on the north
by peculiar mountains; it is also fringed with scrub nearly all round.
The appearance of the northern mountains is singular, grotesque, and
very difficult to describe. There appear to be still three distinct
lines. One ends in a bluff, to the east-north-east of the camp; another
line ends in a bluff to the north-north-east; while the third continues
along the northern horizon. One point, higher than the rest in that
line, bears north 26&deg; west from camp. The middle tier of hills is
the most strange-looking; it recedes in the distance eastwards, in
almost regular steps or notches, each of them being itself a bluff, and
all overlooking a valley. The bluffs have a circular curve, are of a red
colour, and in perspective appear like a gigantic flat stairway, only
that they have an oblique tendency to the southward, caused, I presume,
by the wash of ocean currents that, at perhaps no greatly distant
geological period, must have swept over them from the north. My eyes,
however, were mostly bent upon the high peak in the northern line; and
Mr. Carmichael and I decided to walk over to, and ascend it. It was
apparently no more than seven or eight miles away.

<p>As my reader is aware, I left the Finke issuing through an
impracticable gorge in these same ranges, now some seventy-five miles
behind us, and in that distance not a break had occurred in the line
whereby I could either get over or through it, to meet the Finke again;
indeed, at this distance it was doubtful whether it were worth while to
endeavour to do so, as one can never tell what change may take place, in
even the largest of Australian streams, in such a distance. When last
seen, it was trending along a valley under the foot of the highest of
three tiers of hills, and coming from the west; but whether its sources
are in those hills, or that it still runs on somewhere to the north of
us, is the question which I now hope to solve. I am the more anxious to
rediscover the Finke, if it still exists, because water has been by no
means plentiful on the route along which I have lately been travelling;
and I believe a better country exists upon the other side of the
mountains.

<p>At starting, Carmichael and I at first walked across the plain, we
being encamped upon its southern end. It was beautifully grassed, and
had good soil, and it would make an excellent racecourse, or ground for
a kangaroo hunt. We saw numbers of kangaroos, and emus too, but could
get no shots at them. In three miles the plain ended in thick, indeed
very dense, scrub, which continued to the foot of the hills; in it the
grass was long, dry, and tangled with dead and dry burnt sticks and
timber, making it exceedingly difficult to walk through. Reaching the
foot of the hills, I found the natives had recently burnt all the
vegetation from their sides, leaving the stones, of which it was
composed, perfectly bare. It was a long distance to the top of the first
ridge, but the incline was easy, and I was in great hopes, if it
continued so, to be able to get the horses over the mountains at this
spot. Upon arriving at the top of the slope, I was, however, undeceived
upon that score, for we found the high mount, for which we were
steering, completely separated from us by a yawning chasm, which lay,
under an almost sheer precipice, at our feet. The high mountain beyond,
near the crown, was girt around by a solid wall of rock, fifty or sixty
feet in height, from the edge of which the summit rose. It was quite
unapproachable, except, perhaps, in one place, round to the northward.

<p>The solid rock of which it had formerly been composed had, by some
mighty force of nature, been split into innumerable fissures and
fragments, both perpendicularly and horizontally, and was almost
mathematically divided into pieces or squares, or unequal cubes, simply
placed upon one another, like masons' work without mortar. The lower
strata of these divisions were large, the upper tapered to pieces not
much larger than a brick, at least they seemed so from a distance. The
whole appearance of this singular mount was grand and awful, and I could
not but reflect upon the time when these colossal ridges were all at
once rocking in the convulsive tremblings of some mighty volcanic shock,
which shivered them into the fragments I then beheld. I said the hill we
had ascended ended abruptly in a precipice; by going farther round we
found a spot, which, though practicable, was difficult enough to
descend. At the bottom of some of the ravines below I could see several
small pools of water gleaming in little stony gullies.

<p>The afternoon had been warm, if not actually hot, and our walking and
climbing had made us thirsty; the sight of water made us all the more
so. It was now nearly sundown, and it would be useless to attempt the
ascent of the mountain, as by the time we could reach its summit, the
sun would be far below the horizon, and we should obtain no view at all.

<p>It was, however, evident that no gap or pass existed by which I could
get my horses up, even if the country beyond were ever so promising. A
few of the cypress or Australian pines (Callitris) dotted the summits of
the hills, they also grew on the sides of some of the ravines below us.
We had, at least I had, considerable difficulty in descending the almost
perpendicular face to the water below. Carmichael got there before I
did, and had time to sit, laving his feet and legs in a fine little rock
hole full of pure water, filled, I suppose, by the late rains. The
water, indeed, had not yet ceased to run, for it was trickling from hole
to hole. Upon Mr. Carmichael inquiring what delayed me so long, I
replied: &ldquo;Ah, it is all very easy for you; you have two
circumstances in your favour. You are young, and therefore able to
climb, and besides, you are in the tropic.&rdquo; To which he very
naturally replies, &ldquo;If I am in the tropic you must be also.&rdquo;
I benignly answer, &ldquo;No, you are in the tropic clime of
youth.&rdquo; While on the high ground no view of any kind, except along
the mountains for a mile or two east and west, could be obtained. I was
greatly disappointed at having such a toilsome walk for so little
purpose. We returned by a more circuitous route, eventually reaching the
camp very late at night, thoroughly tired out with our walk. I named
this mountain Mount Musgrave. It is nearly 1700 feet above the level of
the surrounding country, and over 3000 feet above the sea. The next day
Mr. Carmichael went out to shoot game; there were kangaroos, and in the
way of birds there were emus, crows, hawks, quail, and bronze-winged
pigeons; but all we got from his expedition was nil. The horses now
being somewhat refreshed by our stay here, we proceeded across the
little plain towards another high bluff hill, which loomed over the
surrounding country to the west-north-west. Flies were troublesome, and
very busy at our eyes; soon after daylight, and immediately after
sunrise, it became quite hot.

<p>Traversing first the racecourse plain, we then entered some mulga
scrub; the mulga is an acacia, the wood extremely hard. It grows to a
height of twenty to thirty feet, but is by no means a shady or even a
pretty tree; it ranges over an enormous extent of Australia. The scrub
we now entered had been recently burnt near the edge of the plain; but
the further we got into it, the worse it became. At seven miles we came
to stones, triodia, and mallee, a low eucalyptus of the gumtree family,
growing generally in thick clumps from one root: its being rooted close
together makes it difficult travelling to force one's way through. It
grows about twenty feet high. The higher grade of eucalypts or gum-trees
delight in water and a good soil, and nearly always line the banks of
watercourses. The eucalypts of the mallee species thrive in deserts and
droughts, but contain water in their roots which only the native
inhabitants of the country can discover. A white man would die of thirst
while digging and fooling around trying to get the water he might know
was preserved by the tree, but not for him; while an aboriginal, upon
the other hand, coming to a mallee-tree, after perhaps travelling miles
through them without noticing one, will suddenly make an exclamation,
look at a tree, go perhaps ten or twelve feet away, and begin to dig. In
a foot or so he comes upon a root, which he shakes upwards, gradually
getting more and more of it out of the ground, till he comes to the foot
of the tree; he then breaks it off, and has a root perhaps fifteen feet
long&mdash;this, by the way, is an extreme length. He breaks the root
into sections about a foot long, ties them into bundles, and stands them
up on end in a receptacle, when they drain out a quantity of beautifully
sweet, pure water. A very long root such as I have mentioned might give
nearly a bucketful of water; but woe to the white man who fancies he can
get water out of mallee. There are a few other trees of different kinds
that water is also got from, as I have known it obtained from the mulga,
acacia trees, and from some casuarina trees; it depends upon the region
they are in, as to what trees give the most if any water, but it is an
aboriginal art at any time or place to find it.

<p>The mallee we found so dense that not a third of the horses could be
seen together, and with great difficulty we managed to reach the foot of
a small pine-clad hill lying under the foot of the high bluff before
mentioned&mdash;there a small creek lined with eucalypts ran under its
foot. Though our journey to-day was only twelve miles, that distance
through such horrible scrubs took us many hours. From the top of the
piny hill I could see a watercourse to the south two or three miles
away; it is probably Carmichael's Creek, reformed, after splitting on
the plain behind; Carmichael found a little water-hole up this channel,
with barely sufficient water for our use. The day had been disagreeably
warm. I rode over to the creek to the south, and found two small puddles
in its bed; but there was evidently plenty of water to be got by
digging, as by scratching with my hands I soon obtained some. The camp
which Carmichael and Robinson had selected, while I rode over to the
other creek, was a most wretched place, in the midst of dense mallee and
amidst thick plots of triodia, which we had to cut away before we could
sit down.

<p>The only direction in which we could see a yard ahead of us was up
towards the sky; and as we were not going that way, it gave us no idea
of our next line of route. The big bluff we had been steering for all
day was, I may say, included in our skyward view, for it towered above
us almost overhead. Being away when the camp was selected, I was sorry
to hear that the horses had all been let go without hobbles; as they had
been in such fine quarters for three nights at the last camp on the
plain, it was more than probable they would work back through the scrub
to it in the night. The following morning not a horse was to be found!
Robinson and I went in search of them, and found they had split into
several mobs. I only got three, and at night Robinson returned with only
six, the remainder had been missed in the dense scrubs. The thermometer
stood at 95&deg; in the shade, and there was a warm wind blowing.
Robinson had a fine day's work, as he had to walk back to the camp on
the plain for the horses he got. In the afternoon I attempted the high
bluff immediately overlooking the camp. I had a bit of cliff-climbing,
and reached the summit of one hill of some elevation, 1300 feet, and
then found that a vast chasm, or ravine, separated me from the main
mountain chain. It would be dark before I could&mdash;if I
could&mdash;reach the summit, and then I should get no view, so I
returned to the camp. The height was considerable, as mountains in this
part of the world go, as it towered above the hill I was upon, and was
500 or 600 feet higher. These mountains appear to be composed of a kind
of conglomerate granite; very little timber existed upon them, but they
were splendidly supplied with high, strong, coarse spinifex. I slipped
down a gully, fell into a hideous bunch of this horrid stuff, and got
pricked from head to foot; the spiny points breaking off in my clothes
and flesh caused me great annoyance and pain for many days after. Many
beautiful flowers grew on the hillsides, in gullies and ravines; of
these I collected several. We secured what horses we had, for the night,
which was warm and sultry. In the morning Robinson and I rode after the
still missing ones; at the plain camp we found all except one, and by
the time we returned it was night.

<p>Not hobbling the horses in general, we had some difficulty in finding
a pair of hobbles for each, and not being able to do so, I left one in
the mob without. This base reptile surreptitiously crawled away in the
night by himself. As our camp was the most wretched dog-hole it was
possible for a man to get into, in the midst of dense mallee, triodia,
and large stones, I determined to escape from it, before looking for the
now two missing animals. The water was completely exhausted. We moved
away south-westerly for about three miles, to the creek I had scratched
in some days ago; now we had to dig a big hole with a shovel, and with a
good deal of labour we obtained a sufficient supply for a few days.

<hr>

<h4><a name="ch1.4">CHAPTER 1.4. FROM 17TH SEPTEMBER TO 1ST OCTOBER, 1872.</a></h4>
<blockquote>
Search for the missing horses.
Find one.
Hot wind and flying sand.
Last horse recovered.
Annoyed by flies.
Mountains to the west.
Fine timber.
Gardiner's Range.
Mount Solitary.
Follow the creek.
Dig a tank.
Character of the country.
Thunderstorms.
Mount Peculiar.
A desolate region.
Sandhills.
Useless rain.
A bare granite hill.
No water.
Equinoctial gales.
Search for water.
Find a rock reservoir.
Native fig-trees.
Gloomy and desolate view.
The old chain.
Hills surrounded by scrubs.
More hills to the west.
Difficult watering-place.
Immortelles.
Cold weather.
View from a hill.
Renewed search for water.
Find a small supply.
Almost unapproachable.
Effects of the spinifex on the horses.
Pack-horses in scrubs.
The Mus conditor.
Glistening micaceous hills.
Unsuccessful search.
Waterless hill nine hundred feet high.
Oceans of scrub.
Retreat to last reservoir.
Natives' smokes.
Night without water.
Unlucky day.
Two horses lost.
Recover them.
Take a wrong turn.
Difficulty in watering the horses.
An uncomfortable camp.
Unsuccessful searches.
Mount Udor.
Mark a tree.
Tender-footed horses.
Poor feed.
Sprinkling rain.
Flies again troublesome.
Start for the western ranges.
No water.
Difficult scrubs. 
Lonely camp. 
Horses away. 
Reach the range. 
No water.
Retreat to Mount Udor.
Slight rain.
Determine to abandon this region.
Corkwood trees.
Ants' nests.
Glow-worms.
Native poplar trees.
Peculiar climate.
Red gum-trees.
A mare foals.
Depart for the south.
Remarks on the country.
</blockquote>
<p>Having fixed our camp at a new place, in the afternoon of the 17th
September, Robinson and I again went to look after the horses. At three
miles above the camp we found some water; soon after we got the tracks
of one horse and saw that he had been about there for a day or two, as
the tracks were that age. We made a sweep out round some hills, found
the tracks again, much fresher, and came upon the horse about seven
miles from the camp. The other horse was left for to-morrow. Thermometer
96&deg;, sky overcast, rain imminent.

<p>During the night of the 18th of September a few heat-drops of rain
fell. I sent Robinson away to the plain camp, feeling sure he would find
the rover there. A hot wind blew all day, the sand was flying about in
all directions. Robinson got the horse at last at the plain, and I took
special care to find a pair of hobbles for him for this night at all
events. The flies were an intolerable nuisance, not that they were
extraordinarily numerous, but so insufferably pertinacious. I think the
tropic fly of Australia the most abominable insect of its kind. From the
summit of the hill I ascended on Sunday, I found the line of mountains
still ran on to the west, the furthest hills appeared fifty miles away.
As they extend so far, and are the principal features in sight, I shall
follow them, in hopes of meeting some creek, or river, that may carry me
on to the west. It is a remarkable fact that such high hills as I have
been following should send out no creek whose course extends farther
than ten or twelve miles. I could trace the creek I am now on by its
timber for only a few miles, its course appearing south of west. The
country in its immediate neighbourhood is open, and timbered with fine
casuarina trees; the grass is dry and long, and the triodia approaches
to within a quarter of a mile of it. The line of hills I previously
mentioned as running along to the south of us, we had now run out. I
named them Gardiner's Range, after a friend of Mr. Carmichael's. There
is, however, one small isolated hill, the furthest outpost of that line,
some three miles away to the south-west; the creek may probably take a
bend down towards it. I called it Mount Solitary. This creek is rather
well timbered, the gum-trees look fresh and young, and there is some
green herbage in places, though the surface water has all disappeared.

<p>There was so little water at the camp tank, we had to send the horses
up the creek three miles to water, and on their return I was not sorry
to be moving again, for our stay at these two last camps had been
compulsory, and the anxiety, trouble, and annoyance we had, left no very
agreeable reminiscences of the locality in our minds.

<p>We travelled along the creek all day, cutting off the bends, but
without seeing any signs of water: towards evening we set to work to try
if we could get any by digging. In about four feet, water began to drain
in, but, the sand being so loose, we had to remove an enormous quantity
to enable a horse to drink. Some of the horses would not go into it, and
had to be watered with a canvas bucket. The supply seemed good, but it
only drained in from the sides. Every time a horse drank we had to clear
out the sand for the next; it therefore took until late before all were
satisfied. The country was still open, and timbered with fine black oak,
or what is so called in Australia. It is a species of casuarina, of the
same family but distinct from the beautiful desert oak. Triodia reigned
supreme within half a mile. At this camp the old grass had been burnt,
and fresh young green shoots appeared in its place; this was very good
for the horses. A few drops of rain fell; distant rumblings of thunder
and flashes of lightning now cooled the air. While we were at breakfast
the next morning, a thunderstorm came up to us from the west, then
suddenly turned away, only just sprinkling us, though we could see the
rain falling heavily a few yards to the south. We packed up and went
off, hoping to find a better watered region at the hills westwards.
There was an extraordinary mount a little to the west of north from us;
it looked something like a church; it was over twenty miles away: I
called it Mount Peculiar. Leaving the creek on our left, to run itself
out into some lonely flat or dismal swamp, known only to the wretched
inhabitants of this desolate region&mdash;over which there seems to
brood an unutterable stillness and a dread repose&mdash;we struck into
sandhill country, rather open, covered with the triodia or spinifex, and
timbered with the casuarina or black oak trees. We had scarcely gone two
miles when our old thunderstorm came upon us&mdash;it had evidently
missed us at first, and had now come to look for us&mdash;and it rained
heavily. The country was so sandy and porous that no water remained on
the surface. We travelled on and the storm travelled with us&mdash;the
ground sucking up every drop that fell. Continuing our course, which was
north 67&deg; west, we travelled twenty-five miles. At this distance we
came in sight of the mountains I was steering for, but they were too
distant to reach before night, so, turning a little northward to the
foot of a low, bare, white granite hill, I hoped to find a creek, or at
least some ledges in the rocks, where we might get some water. Not a
drop was to be found. Though we had been travelling in the rain all day
and accomplished thirty miles, we were obliged to camp without water at
last. There was good feed for the horses, and, as it was still raining,
they could not be very greatly in want of water. We fixed up our tent
and retired for the night, the wind blowing furiously, as might
reasonably be expected, for it was the eve of the vernal equinox, and
this I supposed was our share of the equinoctial gales. We were
compelled in the morning to remove the camp, as we had not a drop of
water, and unless it descended in sheets the country could not hold it,
being all pure red sand. The hill near us had no rocky ledges to catch
water, so we made off for the higher mountains for which we were
steering yesterday. Their nearest or most eastern point was not more
than four miles away, and we went first to it. I walked on ahead of the
horses with the shovel, to a small gully I saw with the glasses, having
some few eucalypts growing in it. I walked up it, to and over rocky
ledges, down which at times, no doubt, small leaping torrents roar. Very
little of yesterday's rain had fallen here; but most fortunately I found
one small rock reservoir, with just sufficient water for all the horses.
There was none either above or below in any other basin, and there were
many better-looking places, but all were dry. The water in this one must
have stood for some time, yesterday's rain not having affected it in the
least. The place at which I found the water was the most difficult for
horses to reach; it was almost impracticable. After finding this
opportune though awkwardly situated supply, I climbed to the summit of
the mount. On the top was a native fig-tree in full bearing; the fruit
was ripe and delicious. It is the size of an ordinary marble, yellow
when unripe, and gradually becoming red, then black: it is full of small
seeds. I was disturbed from my repast by seeing the horses, several
hundred feet below me, going away in the wrong direction. And I had to
descend before I had time to look around; but the casual glance I
obtained gave me the most gloomy and desolate view imaginable; one,
almost enough to daunt the explorer from penetrating any farther into
such a dreadful region. To the eastward, I found I had now long outrun
the old main chain of mountains, which had turned up to the north, or
rather north-north-westward; between me and it a mass of jumbled and
broken mounts appeared; each separate one, however, was almost
surrounded by scrubs, which ran up to the foot of the hill I was upon.
Northward the view was similar. To the west the picture was the same,
except that a more defined range loomed above the intervening
scrubs&mdash;the hills furthest away in that direction being probably
fifty miles distant. The whole horizon looked dark and gloomy&mdash;I
could see no creeks of any kind, the most extensive water channels were
mere gullies, and not existing at all at a mile from the hills they
issued from.

<p>Watering our horses proved a difficult and tedious task; as many of
them would not approach the rocky basin, the water had to be carried up
to them in canvas buckets. By the time they were all watered, and we had
descended from the rocky gully, the day had passed with most miraculous
celerity. The horses did not finish the water, there being nearly
sufficient to give them another drink. The grass was good here, as a
little flat, on which grew some yellow immortelles, had recently been
burnt. I allowed the horses to remain and drink up the balance of the
water, while I went away to inspect some other gorges or gullies in the
hills to the west of us, and see whether any more water could be found.
The day was cool and fine.

<p>I climbed to the summit of a hill about 800 feet from its base. The
view was similar to yesterday's, except that I could now see these hills
ran on west for twelve or fifteen miles, where the country was entirely
covered with scrubs. Little gullies, with an odd, and stunted, gum-tree
here and there, were seen. Few of these gullies were more than six feet
wide, and the trumpery little streams that descend, in even their most
flooded state, would be of but little service to anybody. I had wandered
up and down hills, in and out of gullies, all the morning, but had met
no single drop of water, and was returning disappointed to the camp
when, on trying one more small scrubby, dreadfully-rocky little gully
which I had missed, or rather passed by, in going out, I was fortunate
enough to discover a few small rocky holes full of the purest fluid.
This treasure was small indeed, but my gratitude was great; for what
pleased me most was the rather strange fact that the water was trickling
from one basin to another, but with the weakest possible flow. Above and
below where I found this water the gully and the rocks were as dry as
the desert around. Had the supply not been kept up by the trickling,
half my horses would have emptied all the holes at a draught.

<p>The approach to this water was worse, rougher, rockier, and more
impracticable than at the camp; I was, however, most delighted to have
found it, otherwise I should have had to retreat to the last creek. I
determined, however, not to touch it now, but to keep it as a reserve
fund, should I be unable to find more out west. Returning to camp, we
gave the horses all the water remaining, and left the spot perfectly
dry.

<p>We now had the line of hills on our right, and travelled nearly
west-north-west. Close to the foot of the hills the country is open, but
covered with large stones, between the interstices of which grow huge
bunches of the hideous spinifex, which both we and the horses dread like
a pestilence. We have encountered this scourge for over 200 miles. All
around the coronets of most of the horses, in consequence of their being
so continually punctured with the spines of this terrible grass, it has
caused a swelling, or tough enlargement of the flesh and skin, giving
them the appearance of having ring-bones. Many of them have the flesh
quite raw and bleeding; they are also very tender-footed from traversing
so much stony ground, as we have lately had to pass over. Bordering upon
the open stony triodia ground above-mentioned is a bed of scrubs,
composed chiefly of mulga, though there are various other trees, shrubs,
and plants amongst it. It is so dense and thick that in it we cannot see
a third of the horses at once; they, of course, continually endeavour to
make into it to avoid the stones and triodia; for, generally speaking,
the pungent triodia and the mulga acacia appear to be antagonistic
members of the vegetable kingdom. The ground in the scrubs is generally
soft, and on that account also the horses seek it. Out of kindness, I
have occasionally allowed them to travel in the scrubs, when our direct
course should have been on the open, until some dire mishap forces us
out again; for, the scrubs being so dense, the horses are compelled to
crash through them, tearing the coverings of their loads, and frequently
forcing sticks in between their backs or sides and their saddles,
sometimes staking themselves severely. Then we hear a frantic crashing
through the scrubs, and the sounds of the pounding of horse-hoofs are
the first notice we receive that some calamity has occurred. So soon as
we ourselves can force our way through, and collect the horses the best
way we can, yelling and howling to one another to say how many each may
have got, we discover one or two missing. Then they have to be tracked;
portions of loads are picked up here and there, and, in the course of an
hour or more, the horse or horses are found, repacked, and on we push
again, mostly for the open, though rough and stony spinifex ground,
where at least we can see what is going on. These scrubs are really
dreadful, and one's skin and clothes get torn and ripped in all
directions. One of these mishaps occurred to-day.

<p>In these scrubs are met nests of the building rat (Mus conditor).
They form their nests with twigs and sticks to the height of four feet,
the circumference being fifteen to twenty. The sticks are all lengths up
to three feet, and up to an inch in diameter. Inside are chambers and
galleries, while in the ground underneath are tunnels, which are carried
to some distance from their citadel. They occur in many parts of
Australia, and are occasionally met with on plains where few trees can
be found. As a general rule, they frequent the country inhabited by the
black oak (casuarina). They can live without water, but, at times, build
so near a watercourse as to have their structures swept away by floods.
Their flesh is very good eating.

<p>In ten miles we had passed several little gullies, and reached the
foot of other hills, where a few Australian pines were scattered here
and there. These hills have a glistening, sheening, laminated
appearance, caused by the vast quantities of mica which abounds in them.
Their sides are furrowed and corrugated, and their upper portions almost
bare rock. Time was lost here in unsuccessful searches for water, and we
departed to another range, four or five miles farther on, and apparently
higher; therefore perhaps more likely to supply us with water. Mr.
Carmichael and I ascended the range, and found it to be 900 feet from
its base; but in all its gullies water there was none. The view from the
summit was just such as I have described before&mdash;an ocean of
scrubs, with isolated hills or ranges appearing like islands in most
directions. Our horses had been already twenty-four hours without water.
I wanted to reach the far range to the west, but it was useless to push
all the pack-horses farther into such an ocean of scrubs, as our rate of
progress in them was so terribly slow. I decided to return to the small
supply I had left as a reserve, and go myself to the far range, which
was yet some thirty miles away. The country southward seemed to have
been more recently visited by the natives than upon our line of march,
which perhaps was not to be wondered at, as what could they get to live
on out of such a region as we had got into? Probably forty or fifty
miles to the south, over the tops of some low ridges, we saw the
ascending smoke of spinifex fires, still attended to by the natives; and
in the neighbourhood, no doubt, they had some watering places. On our
retreat we travelled round the northern face of the hills, upon whose
south side we had arrived, in hopes of finding some place having water,
where I might form a depot for a few days. By night we could find none,
and had to encamp without, either for ourselves or our horses.

<p>The following day seemed foredoomed to be unlucky; it really appeared
as though everything must go wrong by a natural law. In the first place,
while making a hobble peg, while Carmichael and Robinson were away after
the horses, the little piece of wood slipped out of my hand, and the
sharp blade of the knife went through the top and nail of my third
finger and stuck in the end of my thumb. The cut bled profusely, and it
took me till the horses came to sew my mutilated digits up. It was late
when we left this waterless spot. As there was a hill with a
prepossessing gorge, I left Carmichael and Robinson to bring the horses
on, and rode off to see if I could find water there. Though I rode and
walked in gullies and gorges, no water was to be found. I then made down
to where the horses should have passed along, and found some of them
standing with their packs on, in a small bit of open ground, surrounded
by dense scrubs, which by chance I came to, and nobody near. I called
and waited, and at last Mr. Carmichael came and told me that when he and
Robinson debouched with the horses on this little open space, they found
that two of the animals were missing, and that Robinson had gone to pick
up their tracks. The horse carrying my papers and instruments was one of
the truants. Robinson soon returned, not having found the track. Neither
of them could tell when they saw the horses last. I sent Mr. Carmichael
to another hill two or three miles away, that we had passed, but not
inspected yesterday, to search for water, while Robinson and I looked
for the missing horses. And lest any more should retreat during our
absence, we tied them up in two mobs. Robinson tied his lot up near a
small rock. We then separately made sweeps round, returning to the
horses on the opposite side, without success. We then went again in
company, and again on opposite sides singly, but neither tracks nor
horses could be found. Five hours had now elapsed since I first heard of
their absence. I determined to make one more circuit beyond any we had
already taken, so as to include the spot we had camped at; this occupied
a couple of hours. When I returned I was surprised to hear that Robinson
had found the horses in a small but extra dense bunch of scrub not
twenty yards from the spot where he had tied his horses up. While I was
away he had gone on top of the little stony eminence close by, and from
its summit had obtained a bird's-eye view of the ground below, and thus
perceived the two animals, which had never been absent at all. It seemed
strange to me that I could not find their tracks, but the reason was
there were no tracks to find. I took it for granted when Carmichael told
me of their absence that they were absent, but he and Robinson were both
mistaken.

<p>It was now nearly evening, and I had been riding my horse at a fast
pace the whole day; I was afraid we could not reach the reserve water by
night. But we pushed on, Mr. Carmichael joining us, not having found any
water. At dusk we reached the small creek or gully, up in whose rocks I
had found the water on Sunday. At a certain point the creek split in
two, or rather two channels joined, and formed one, and I suppose the
same ill fate that had pursued me all day made me mistake the proper
channel, and we drove the unfortunate and limping horses up a wretched,
rocky, vile, scrubby, almost impenetrable gully, where there was not a
sup of water.

<p>On discovering my error, we had to turn them back over the same
horrible places, all rocks, dense scrubs, and triodia, until we got them
into the proper channel. When near the first little hole I had formerly
seen, I dismounted, and walked up to see how it had stood during my
absence, and was grieved to discover that the lowest and largest hole
was nearly dry. I bounded up the rocks to the next, and there, by the
blessing of Providence, was still a sufficient quantity, as the slow
trickling of the water from basin to basin had not yet entirely ceased,
though its current had sadly diminished since my last visit only some
seventy hours since.

<p>By this time it was dark, and totally impossible to get the horses up
the gully. We had to get them over a horrible ridge of broken and
jumbled rocks, having to get levers and roll away huge boulders, to make
something like a track to enable the animals to reach the water.

<p>Time (and labour) accomplishes all things, and in time the last
animal's thirst was quenched, and the last drop of water sucked up from
every basin. I was afraid it would not be replenished by morning. We had
to encamp in the midst of a thicket of a kind of willow acacia with pink
bark all in little curls, with a small and pretty mimosa-like leaf. This
bush is of the most tenacious nature&mdash;you may bend it, but break it
won't. We had to cut away sufficient to make an open square, large
enough for our packs, and to enable us to lie down, also to remove the
huge bunches of spinifex that occupied the space; then, when the stones
were cleared away, we had something like a place for a camp. By this
time it was midnight, and we slept, all heartily tired of our day's
work, and the night being cool we could sleep in comfort. Our first
thought in the morning was to see how the basins looked. Mr. Carmichael
went up with a keg to discover, and on his return reported that they had
all been refilled in the night, and that the trickling continued, but
less in volume. This was a great relief to my mind; I trust the water
will remain until I return from those dismal-looking mountains to the
west. I made another search during the morning for more water, but
without success, and I can only conclude that this water was permitted
by Providence to remain here in this lonely spot for my especial
benefit, for no more rain had fallen here than at any of the other hills
in the neighbourhood, nor is this one any higher or different from the
others which I visited, except that this one had a little water and all
the rest none. In gratitude therefore to this hill I have called it
Mount Udor. Mount Udor was the only spot where water was to be found in
this abominable region, and when I left it the udor had departed also. I
got two of my riding-horses shod to-day, as the country I intended to
travel over is about half stones and half scrub. I have marked a
eucalyptus or gum-tree in this gully close to the foot of the rock where
I found the water [EG/21], as this is my twenty-first camp from
Chambers' Pillar. My position here is in latitude 23&deg; 14&acute;,
longitude 130&deg; 55&acute;, and variation 3&deg; east nearly. I could
not start to-day as the newly shod horses are so tender-footed that they
seem to go worse in their shoes; they may be better to-morrow. The water
still holds out. The camp is in a confined gully, and warm, though it is
comparatively a cool day. The grass here is very poor, and the horses
wander a great deal to look for feed. Four of them could not be found in
the morning. A slight thunderstorm passed over in the night, with a
sprinkling of rain for nearly an hour, but not sufficient fell to damp a
pocket-handkerchief. It was, however, quite sufficient to damp my hopes
of a good fall. The flies are very numerous here and troublesome. After
watering my two horses I started away by myself for the ranges out west.
I went on our old tracks as far as they went, then I visited some other
hills on my line of march. As usual, the country alternated between open
stones at the foot of the hills and dense scrubs beyond. I thought one
of the beds of scrubs I got into the densest I had ever seen, it was
actually impenetrable without cutting one's way, and I had to turn
around and about in all directions. I had the greatest difficulty to get
the horse I was leading to come on at all; I had no power over him
whatever. I could not use either a whip or a stick, and he dragged so
much that he nearly pulled me out of my saddle, so that I could hardly
tell which way I was going, and it was extremely difficult to keep
anything like a straight course. Night overtook me, and I had to encamp
in the scrubs, having travelled nearly forty miles. A few drops of rain
fell; it may have benefited the horses, but to me it was a nuisance. I
was up, off my sandy couch early enough, but had to wait for daylight
before I could get the horses; they had wandered away for miles back
towards the camp, and I had the same difficulties over again when
getting them back to where the saddles were. In seven or eight miles
after starting I got out of the scrubs. At the foot of the mountain for
which I was steering there was a little creek or gully, with some
eucalypts where I struck it. It was, as all the others had been,
scrubby, rocky, and dry. I left the horses and ascended to the top,
about 900 feet above the scrubs which surrounded it. The horizon was
broken by low ranges nearly all round, but scrubs as usual intervened
between them. I descended and walked into dozens of gullies and rocky
places, and I found some small holes and basins, but all were dry. At
this spot I was eighty miles from a sufficient supply of water; that at
the camp, forty-five miles away, may be gone by the time I return. Under
these circumstances I could not go any farther west. It was now evening
again. I left these desolate hills, the Ehrenberg Ranges of my map, and
travelled upon a different line, hoping to find a better or less thick
route through the scrubs, but it was just the same, and altogether
abominable. Night again overtook me in the direful scrubs, not very far
from the place at which I had slept the previous night; the most of the
day was wasted in an ineffectual search for water.

<p>On Sunday morning, the 29th September, having hobbled my horses so
short, although the scrubs were so thick, they were actually in sight at
dawn; I might as well have tied them up. Starting at once, I travelled
to one or two hills we had passed by, but had not inspected before. I
could find no water anywhere. It was late when I reached the camp, and I
was gladdened to find the party still there, and that the water supply
had held out so long. On the following morning, Monday, the 30th of
September, it was at a very low ebb; the trickling had ceased in the
upper holes, though it was still oozing into the lower ones, so that it
was absolutely necessary to pack up and be off from this wretched place.
It was an expedition in itself to get water for the camp, from the rock
basins above. The horses dreaded to approach it on account of their
tender feet. It required a lot of labour to get sufficient firewood to
boil a quart pot, for, although we were camped in a dense thicket, the
small wood of which it was composed was all green, and useless for
firewood.

<p>I intended to retreat from here to-day, but just as Robinson was
starting to find the horses a shower of rain came on, and hoping it
might end in a heavier fall, I decided to remain until to-morrow, to
give the rain a chance,&mdash;especially as, aided by the slight rain,
the horses could do without a drink, there now being only one drink
remaining, as the trickling had entirely ceased, though we yet had the
little holes full. The rain fell in a slight and gentle shower two or
three hours, but it left no trace of its fall, even upon the rocks, so
that our water supply was not increased by one pint.

<p>To-morrow I am off; it is useless to remain in a region such as this.
But where shall I go next? The creek I had last got water in, might even
now be dry. I determined to try and reach it farther down its channel.
If it existed beyond where I left it, I expected, in twenty-five to
thirty miles, in a southerly direction, to strike it again: therefore, I
decided to travel in that direction. A few quandongs, or native peach
trees, exist amongst these gullies; also a tree that I only know by the
name of the corkwood tree. (&ldquo;Sesbania grandiflora,&rdquo; Baron
Mueller says, &ldquo;North-Western Australia; to the verge of the
tropics; Indian Archipelago; called in Australia the corkwood tree;
valuable for various utilitarian purposes. The red-flowered variety is
grandly ornamented. Dr. Roxburgh recommends the leaves and young pods as
an exquisite spinach; the plant is shy of frost.&rdquo;) The wood is
soft, and light in weight and colour. It is by no means a handsome tree.
It grows about twenty feet high. Generally two or three are huddled
together, as though growing from one stem. Those I saw were nearly all
dead. They grow in the little water channels. The ants here, as in
nearly the whole of Tropical Australia, build nests from four to six
feet high&mdash;in some other parts I have known them twenty&mdash;to
escape, I suppose, from the torrents of rain that at times fall in these
regions: the height also protects their eggs and stores from the fires
the natives continually keep burning. This burning, perhaps, accounts
for the conspicuous absence of insects and reptiles. One night, however,
I certainly saw glowworms. These I have only seen in one other region in
Australia&mdash;near Geelong, in Victoria. A tree called the native
poplar (Codonocarpus cotinifolius) is also found growing in the scrubs
and water-channels of this part of the country. The climate of this
region appears very peculiar. Scarcely a week passes without
thunderstorms and rain; but the latter falls in such small quantities
that it is almost useless. It is evidently on this account that there
are no waters or watercourses deserving of the name. I should like to
know how much rain would have to fall here before any could be
discovered lying on the ground. All waters found in this part of the
country must be got out of pure sand, in a water channel or pure rock.
The native orange-tree grows here, but the specimens I have met are very
poor and stunted. The blood-wood-trees, or red gum-trees, which always
enliven any landscape where they are found, also occur. They are not,
however, the magnificent vegetable structures which are known in
Queensland and Western Australia, but are mostly gnarled and stunted.
They also grow near the watercourses.

<p>The 1st October broke bright and clear, and I was only too thankful
to get out of this horrible region and this frightful encampment, into
which the fates had drawn me, alive. When the horses arrived, there was
only just enough water for all to drink; but one mare was away, and
Robinson said she had foaled. The foal was too young to walk or move;
the dam was extremely poor, and had been losing condition for some time
previously; so Robinson went back, killed the foal, and brought up the
mare. Now there was not sufficient water to satisfy her when she did
come. Mr. Carmichael and I packed up the horses, while Robinson was away
upon his unpleasant mission. When he brought her up, the mare looked the
picture of misery. At last I turned my back upon this wretched camp and
region; and we went away to the south. It was half-past two o'clock when
we got clear from our prison.

<p>It is almost a work of supererogation to make many further remarks on
the character of this region&mdash;I mean, of course, since we left the
Finke. I might, at a word, condemn it as a useless desert. I will,
however, scarcely use so sweeping a term. I can truly say it is dry,
stony, scrubby, and barren, and this in my former remarks any one who
runs can read. I saw very few living creatures, but it is occasionally
visited by its native owners, to whom I do not grudge the possession of
it. Occasionally the howls of the native dog (Canis familiaris)&mdash;or
dingo as he is usually called&mdash;were heard, and their footprints in
sandy places seen. A small species of kangaroo, known as the scrub
wallaby, were sometimes seen, and startled from their pursuit of
nibbling at the roots of plants, upon which they exist; but the scrubs
being so dense, and their movements so rapid, it was utterly impossible
to get a shot at them. Their greatest enemy&mdash;besides the wild black
man and the dingo&mdash;is the large eagle-hawk, which, though flying at
an enormous height, is always on the watch; but it is only when the
wallaby lets itself out, on to the stony open, that the enemy can swoop
down upon it. The eagle trusses it with his talons, smashes its head
with its beak to quiet it, and, finally, if a female, flies away with
the victim to its nest for food for its young, or if a male bird, to
some lonely rock or secluded tarn, to gorge its fill alone. I have
frequently seen these eagles swoop on to one, and, while struggling with
its prey, have galloped up and secured it myself, before the dazed
wallaby could collect its senses. Other birds of prey, such as
sparrow-hawks, owls, and mopokes (a kind of owl), inhabit this region,
but they are not numerous. Dull-coloured, small birds, that exist
entirely without water, are found in the scrubs; and in the mornings
they are sometimes noisy, but not melodious, when there is a likelihood
of rain; and the smallest of Australian ornithology, the diamond bird
(Amadina) of Gould, is met with at almost every watering place. Reptiles
and insects, as I have said, are scarce, on account of the continual
fires the natives use in their perpetual hunt for food.

<hr>

<h4><a name="ch1.5">CHAPTER 1.5. FROM 1ST TO 15TH OCTOBER, 1872.</a></h4>
<blockquote>
A bluff hill. 
Quandong trees. 
The mulga tree. 
Travel South-south-east. 
Mare left behind. 
Native peaches. 
Short of water. 
Large tree. 
Timbered ridges. 
Horses suffer from thirst. 
Pine-trees. 
Native encampments. 
Native paintings in caves. 
Peculiar crevice. 
A rock tarn. 
A liquid prize. 
Caverns and caves. 
A pretty oasis. 
Ripe figs. 
Recover the mare. 
Thunder and lightning. 
Ornamented caves. 
Hands of glory. 
A snake in a hole. 
Heavy dew. 
Natives burning the country. 
A rocky eminence. 
Waterless region. 
Cheerless view. 
A race of Salamanders. 
Circles of fire. 
Wallaby and pigeons. 
Wallaby traps. 
Return to depot. 
Water diminishing. 
Glen Edith. 
Mark trees. 
The tarn of Auber. 
Landmarks to it. 
Seeds sown. 
Everything in miniature. 
Journey south. 
Desert oaks. 
A better region. 
Kangaroos and emus. 
Desert again. 
A creek channel. 
Water by scratching. 
Find more. 
Splendid grass. 
Native signs. 
Farther south. 
Beautiful green. 
Abundance of water. 
Follow the channel. 
Laurie's Creek. 
Vale of Tempe. 
A gap or pass. 
Without water. 
Well-grassed plain. 
Native well. 
Dry rock holes. 
Natives' fires. 
New ranges. 
High mountain. 
Return to creek. 
And Glen Edith. 
Description of it. 
</blockquote>
<p>On starting from Mount Udor, on the 1st October, our road lay at
first over rocks and stones, then for two or three miles through thick
scrubs. The country afterwards became a trifle less scrubby, and
consisted of sandhills, timbered with casuarina, and covered, as usual,
with triodia. In ten miles we passed a low bluff hill, and camped near
it, without any water. On the road we saw several quandong trees, and
got some of the ripe fruit. The day was warm and sultry; but the night
set in cool, if not cold. Mr. Carmichael went to the top of the low
bluff, and informed me of the existence of low ridges, bounding the
horizon in every direction except to the south-south-east, and that the
intervening country appeared to be composed of sandhills, with
casuarinas, or mulga scrubs.

<p>In Baron von Mueller's extraordinary work on Select Extra-tropical
Plants, with indications of their native countries, and some of their
uses, these remarks occur:&mdash; &ldquo;Acacia aneura, Ferd. v.
Mueller. Arid desert&mdash;interior of extra tropic Australia. A tree
never more than twenty-five feet high. The principal &lsquo;mulga&rsquo;
tree. Mr. S. Dixon praises it particularly as valuable for fodder of
pasture animals; hence it might locally serve for ensilage. Mr. W.
Johnson found in the foliage a considerable quantity of starch and gum,
rendering it nutritious. Cattle and sheep browse on the twigs of this,
and some allied species, even in the presence of plentiful grass; and
are much sustained by such acacias in seasons of protracted drought.
Dromedaries in Australia crave for the mulga as food. Wood excessively
hard, dark-brown; used, preferentially, by the natives for boomerangs,
sticks with which to lift edible roots, and shafts of phragmites,
spears, wommerahs, nulla-nullas, and jagged spear ends. Mr. J.H. Maiden
determined the percentage of mimosa tannic acid in the perfectly dry
bark as 8.62.&rdquo; The mulga bears a small woody fruit called the
mulga apple. It somewhat resembles the taste of apples, and is sweet. If
crab apples, as is said, were the originals of all the present kinds, I
imagine an excellent fruit might be obtained from the mulga by
cultivation. As this tree is necessarily so often mentioned in my
travels, the remarks of so eminent a botanist upon it cannot be
otherwise than welcome.

<p>In the direction of south-south-east Mr. Carmichael said the country
appeared most open. A yellow flower, of the immortelle species, which I
picked at this little bluff, was an old Darling acquaintance; the
vegetation, in many respects, resembles that of the River Darling. There
was no water at this bluff, and the horses wandered all over the country
during the night, in mobs of twos and threes. It was midday before we
got away. For several hours we kept on south-south-east, over sandhills
and through casuarina timber, in unvarying monotony. At about five
o'clock the little mare that had foaled yesterday gave in, and would
travel no farther. We were obliged to leave her amongst the sandhills.

<p>We continued until we had travelled forty miles from Mount Udor, but
no signs of a creek or any place likely to produce or hold water had
been found. The only difference in the country was that it was now more
open, though the spinifex was as lively as ever.

<p>We passed several quandong trees in full fruit, of which we ate a
great quantity; they were the most palatable, and sweetest I have ever
eaten. We also passed a few Currajong-trees (Brachychiton). At this
point we turned nearly east. It was, however, now past sundown, too dark
to go on any farther, and we had again to encamp without water, our own
small supply being so limited that we could have only a third of a pint
each, and we could not eat anything in consequence. The horses had to be
very short-hobbled to prevent their straying, and we passed the night
under the umbrage of a colossal Currajong-tree. The unfortunate horses
had now been two days and nights without water, and could not feed;
being so short-hobbled, they were almost in sight of the camp in the
morning. From the top of a sandhill I saw that the eastern horizon was
bounded by timbered ridges, and it was not very probable that the creek
I was searching for could lie between us and them. Indeed, I concluded
that the creek had exhausted itself, not far from where we had left it.
The western horizon was now bounded by low ridges, continuous for many
miles. I decided to make for our last camp on the creek, distant some
five-and-twenty miles north-east. At five miles after starting, we came
upon a mass of eucalypts which were not exactly gum-trees, though of
that family, and I thought this might be the end of the exhausted creek
channel, only the timber grew promiscuously on the tops of the
sandhills, as in the lower ground between them. There was no appearance
of any flow of water ever having passed by these trees, and indeed they
looked more like gigantic mallee-trees than gums, only that they grew
separately. They covered a space of about half a mile wide. From here I
saw that some ridges were right before me, at a short distance, but
where our line of march would intersect them they seemed so scrubby and
stony I wished to avoid them. At one point I discerned a notch or gap.
The horses were now very troublesome to drive, the poor creatures being
very bad with thirst. I turned on the bearing that would take me back to
the old creek, which seemed the only spot in this desolate region where
water could be found, and there we had to dig to get it. At one place on
the ridges before us appeared a few pine-trees (Callitris) which enliven
any region they inhabit, and there is usually water in their
neighbourhood. The rocks from which the pines grew were much broken;
they were yet, however, five or six miles away. We travelled directly
towards them, and upon approaching, I found the rocks upheaved in a most
singular manner, and a few gum-trees were visible at the foot of the
ridge. I directed Carmichael and Robinson to avoid the stones as much as
possible, while I rode over to see whether there was a creek or any
other place where water might be procured. On approaching the rocks at
the foot of the ridge, I found several enormous overhanging ledges of
sandstone, under which the natives had evidently been encamped long and
frequently; and there was the channel of a small watercourse scarcely
more than six feet wide. I rode over to another overhanging ledge and
found it formed a verandah wide enough to make a large cave; upon the
walls of this, the natives had painted strange devices of snakes,
principally in white; the children had scratched imperfect shapes of
hands with bits of charcoal. The whole length of this cave had
frequently been a large encampment. Looking about with some hopes of
finding the place where these children of the wilderness obtained water,
I espied about a hundred yards away, and on the opposite side of the
little glen or valley, a very peculiar looking crevice between two huge
blocks of sandstone, and apparently not more than a yard wide. I rode
over to this spot, and to my great delight found a most excellent little
rock tarn, of nearly an oblong shape, containing a most welcome and
opportune supply of the fluid I was so anxious to discover. Some green
slime rested on a portion of the surface, but the rest was all clear and
pure water. My horse must have thought me mad, and any one who had seen
me might have thought I had suddenly espied some basilisk, or
cockatrice, or mailed saurian; for just as the horse was preparing to
dip his nose in the water he so greatly wanted, I turned him away and
made him gallop off after his and my companions, who were slowly passing
away from this liquid prize. When I hailed, and overtook them, they
could scarcely believe that our wants were to be so soon and so
agreeably relieved. There was abundance of water for all our
requirements here, but the approach was so narrow that only two horses
could drink at one time, and we had great difficulty in preventing some
of the horses from precipitating themselves, loads and all, into the
inviting fluid. No one who has not experienced it, can imagine the
pleasure which the finding of such a treasure confers on the thirsty,
hungry, and weary traveller; all his troubles for the time are at an
end. Thirst, that dire affliction that besets the wanderer in the
Australian wilds, at last is quenched; his horses, unloaded, are allowed
to roam and graze and drink at will, free from the encumbrance of
hobbles, and the traveller's other appetite of hunger is also at length
appeased, for no matter what food one may carry, it is impossible to eat
it without water. This was truly a mental and bodily relief. After our
hunger had been satisfied I took a more extended survey of our
surroundings, and found that we had dropped into a really very pretty
little spot.

<p>Low sandstone hills, broken and split into most extraordinary shapes,
forming huge caves and caverns, that once no doubt had been some of the
cavernous depths of the ocean, were to be seen in every direction;
little runnels, with a few gum-trees upon them, constituted the creeks.
Callitris or cypress pines, ornamented the landscape, and a few
blood-wood or red gum-trees also enlivened the scene. No porcupine, but
real green grass made up a really pretty picture, to the explorer at
least. This little spot is indeed an oasis. I had climbed high hills,
traversed untold miles of scrub, and gone in all directions to try and
pick up the channel of a wretched dry creek, when all of a sudden I
stumbled upon a perfect little paradise. I found the dimensions of this
little tarn are not very large, nor is the quantity of water in it very
great, but untouched and in its native state it is certainly a permanent
water for its native owners. It has probably not been filled since last
January or February, and it now contains amply sufficient water to
enable it to last until those months return, provided that no such
enormous drinkers as horses draw upon it; in that case it might not last
a month. I found the actual water was fifty feet long, by eight feet
wide, and four feet deep; the rocks in which the water lies are more
than twenty feet high. The main ridges at the back are between 200 and
300 feet high. The native fig-tree (Ficus orbicularis) grows here most
luxuriantly; there are several of them in full fruit, which is delicious
when thoroughly ripe. I had no thought of deserting this welcome little
spot for a few days. On the following morning Mr. Carmichael and I
loaded a pack-horse with water and started back into the scrub to where
we left the little mare the day before yesterday. With protractor and
paper I found the spot we left her at bore from this place south 70&deg;
west, and that she was now no more than thirteen or fourteen miles away,
though we had travelled double the distance since we left her. We
therefore travelled upon that bearing, and at thirteen and a half miles
we cut our former track at about a quarter of a mile from where we left
the mare. We soon picked up her track and found she had wandered about a
mile, although hobbled, from where we left her. We saw her standing,
with her head down, under an oak tree truly distressed. The poor little
creature was the picture of misery, her milk was entirely gone&mdash;she
was alive, and that was all that could be said of her. She swallowed up
the water we brought with the greatest avidity; and I believe could have
drank as much as a couple of camels could have carried to her. We let
her try to feed for a bit with the other three horses, and then started
back for the tarn. On this line we did not intersect any of the
eucalyptus timber we had passed through yesterday. The mare held up very
well until we were close to the camp, when she gave in again; but we had
to somewhat severely persuade her to keep moving, and at last she had
her reward by being left standing upon the brink of the water, where she
was [like Cyrus when Queen Thomeris had his head cut off into a
receptacle filled with blood] enabled to drink her fill.

<p>In the night heavy storm-clouds gathered o'er us, and vivid
lightnings played around the rocks near the camp: a storm came up and
seemed to part in two, one half going north and the other south; but
just before daybreak we were awakened by a crash of thunder that seemed
to split the hills; and we heard the wrack as though the earth and sky
would mingle; but only a few drops of rain fell, too little to leave any
water, even on the surface of the flat rocks close to the camp. This is
certainly an extraordinary climate. I do not believe a week ever passes
without a shower of rain, but none falls to do any good: one good fallen
in three or even six months, beginning now, would be infinitely more
gratifying, to me at least; but I suppose I must take it as I find it.
The rain that does fall certainly cools the atmosphere a little, which
is a partial benefit.

<p>I found several more caves to-day up in the rocks, and noticed that
the natives here have precisely the same method of ornamenting them as
the natives of the Barrier Range and mountains east of the Darling. You
see the representation of the human hand here, as there, upon the walls
of the caves: it is generally coloured either red or black. The drawing
is done by filling the mouth with charcoal powder if the device is to be
black, if red with red ochre powder, damping the wall where the mark is
to be left, and placing the palm of the hand against it, with the
fingers stretched out; the charcoal or ochre powder is then blown
against the back of the hand; when it is withdrawn, it leaves the space
occupied by the hand and fingers clean, while the surrounding portions
of the wall are all black or red, as the case may be. One device
represents a snake going into a hole: the hole is actually in the rock,
while the snake is painted on the wall, and the spectator is to suppose
that its head is just inside the hole; the body of the reptile is curled
round and round the hole, though its breadth is out of all proportion to
its length, being seven or eight inches thick, and only two or three
feet long. It is painted with charcoal ashes which had been mixed up
with some animal's or reptile's fat. Mr. Carmichael left upon the walls
a few choice specimens of the white man's art, which will help, no
doubt, to teach the young native idea, how to shoot either in one
direction or another.

<p>To-day it rained in light and fitful shallows, which, as usual, were
of no use, except indeed to cause a heavy dew which wet all our blankets
and things, for we always camp without tent or tarpaulin whenever it
does not actually rain. The solar beams of morning soon evaporated the
dew. To the west-south-west the natives were hunting, and as usual
burning the spinifex before them. They do not seem to care much for our
company; for ever since we left the Glen of Palms, the cave-dwelling,
reptile-eating Troglodytes have left us severely alone. As there was a
continuous ridge for miles to the westward, I determined to visit it;
for though this little tarn, that I had so opportunely found, was a most
valuable discovery, yet the number of horses I had were somewhat rapidly
reducing the water supply, and I could plainly perceive that, with such
a strain upon it, it could not last much more than a month, if that; I
must therefore endeavour to find some other watered place, where next I
may remove.

<p>On the morning of the 7th October it was evident a warm day was
approaching. Mr. Carmichael and I started away to a small rocky
eminence, which bore a great resemblance to the rocks immediately behind
this camp, and in consequence we hoped to find more water there. The
rocks bore south 62&deg; west from camp; we travelled over sandhills,
through scrub, triodia, and some casuarina country, until we reached the
hill in twenty miles. It was composed of broken red sandstone rock,
being isolated from the main ridge; other similar heaps were in the
vicinity.

<p>We soon discovered that there was neither water nor any place to hold
it. Having searched all about, we went away to some other ridges, with
exactly the same result; and at dark we had to encamp in the scrubs,
having travelled forty miles on fifty courses. The thermometer had stood
at 91&deg; in the shade, where we rested the horses in the middle of the
day. Natives' smokes were seen mostly round the base of some other
ridges to the south-east, which I determined to visit to-morrow; as the
fires were there, natives must or should be also; and as they require
water to exist, we might find their hidden springs. It seemed evident
that only in the hills or rocky reservoirs water could be found.

<p>We slept under the shadow of a hill, and mounted to its top in the
morning. The view was anything but cheering; ridges, like islands in a
sea of scrub, appeared in connection with this one; some distance away
another rose to the south-east. We first searched those near us, and
left them in disgust, for those farther away. At eight or nine miles we
reached the latter, and another fruitless search was gone through. We
then went to another and another, walking over the stones and riding
through the scrubs. We found some large rocky places, where water might
remain for many weeks, after being filled; but when such an occurrence
ever had taken place, or ever would take place again, it was impossible
to tell. We had wandered into and over such frightful rocky and ungodly
places, that it appeared useless to search farther in such a region, as
it seemed utterly impossible for water to exist in it all. Nevertheless,
the natives were about, burning, burning, ever burning; one would think
they were of the fabled salamander race, and lived on fire instead of
water. The fires were starting up here and there around us in fresh and
narrowing circles; it seems as though the natives can only get water
from the hollow spouts of some trees and from the roots of others, for
on the surface of the earth there is none. We saw a few rock wallaby, a
different variety to the scrub or open sandhill kinds. Bronze-winged
pigeons also were occasionally startled as we wandered about the rocks;
these birds must have water, but they never drink except at sundown, and
occasionally just before sunrise, then they fly so swiftly, with
unerring precision, on their filmy wings, to the place they know so well
will supply them; and thirty, forty, or fifty miles of wretched scrub,
that would take a poor human being and his horse a whole day to
accomplish, are passed over with the quickness of thought. The birds we
flushed up would probably dart across the scrubs to the oasis we had so
recently found. Our horses were getting bad and thirsty; the day was
warm; 92&deg; in the shade, in thirst and wretchedness, is hot enough,
for any poor animal or man either. But man enters these desolate regions
to please himself or satisfy his desire for ambition to win for
himself&mdash;what? a medal, a record, a name? Well, yes, dear reader,
these may enter into his thoughts as parts of a tangible recognition of
his labours; but a nobler idea also actuates him&mdash;either to find,
for the benefit of those who come after him, some beauteous spots where
they may dwell; or if these regions can't supply them, of deserts only
can he tell; but the unfortunate lower is forced into such frightful
privations to please the higher animals. We now turned up towards the
north-west, amongst scrubs, sandhills, and more stony ridges, where
another fruitless search ended as before. Now to the east of us rose a
more continuous ridge, which we followed under its (base) foot, hoping
against hope to meet some creek or gully with water. Gullies we saw, but
neither creeks or water. We continued on this line till we struck our
outgoing track, and as it was again night, we encamped without water. We
had travelled in a triangle. To-day's march was forty-three miles, and
we were yet twenty-nine from the tarn&mdash;apparently the only water
existing in this extraordinary and terrible region.

<p>In one or two places to-day, passing through some of the burning
scrubs and spinifex, we had noticed the fresh footprints of several
natives. Of course they saw us, but they most perseveringly shunned us,
considering us probably far too low a type of animal for their society.
We also saw to-day dilapidated old yards, where they had formerly yarded
emu or wallaby, though we saw none of their wurleys, or mymys, or
gunyahs, or whatever name suits best. The above are all names of the
same thing, of tribes of natives, of different parts of the
Continent&mdash;as <i>Lubra</i>, <i>Gin</i>, <i>Nungo</i>, etc., are for
woman. No doubt these natives carry water in wallaby or other animals'
skins during their burning hunts, for they travel great distances in a
day, walking and burning, and picking up everything alive or roasted as
they go, and bring the game into the general camp at night. We passed
through three different lines of conflagrations to-day. I only wish I
could catch a native, or a dozen, or a thousand; it would be better to
die or conquer in a pitched battle for water, than be for ever fighting
these direful scrubs and getting none. The following morning the poor
horses looked wretched in the extreme; to remain long in such a region
without water is very severe upon them; it is a wonder they are able to
carry us so well. From this desert camp our depot bore north 40&deg;
east. The horses were so exhausted that, though we started early enough,
it was late in the afternoon when we had accomplished the twenty-nine or
thirty miles that brought us at last to the tarn. Altogether they had
travelled 120 miles without a drink. The water in the tarn had evidently
shrunk. The day was warm&mdash;thermometer 92&deg; in shadiest place at
the depot. A rest after the fatigue of the last few days was absolutely
necessary before we made a fresh attempt in some new locality.

<h5><a name="i6">ILLUSTRATION 6</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t06.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>GLEN EDITH.</h5>

<p>It is only partly a day's rest&mdash;for I, at least, have plenty to do; but it is a respite, and we can drink our fill of water. And oh! what a pleasure, what a luxury that is! How few in civilisation will drink water when they can get anything else. Let them try going without, in the explorer's sense of the expression, and then see how they will long for it! The figs on the largest tree, near the cave opposite, are quite ripe and falling; neither Carmichael nor Robinson care for them, but I eat a good many, though I fancy they are not quite wholesome for a white man's digestive organs; at first, they act as an aperient, but subsequently have an opposite effect. I called this charming little oasis Glen Edith, after one of my nieces. I marked two gum-trees at this camp, one &ldquo;Giles 24&rdquo;, and another &ldquo;Glen Edith 24 Oct 9, 72&rdquo;. Mr. Carmichael and Robinson also marked one with their names. The receptacle in which I found the water I have called the Tarn of Auber, after Allan Poe's beautiful lines, in which that name appears, as I thought them appropriate to the spot. He says:&mdash;

<p class="poem">&ldquo;It was in the drear month of October, 
<br>The leaves were all crisped and sere, 
<br>Adown by the Tarn of Auber, 
<br>In the misty mid regions of Weir.&rdquo;

<p>If these are not the misty mid regions of Weir, I don't know where
they are. There are two heaps of broken sandstone rocks, with cypress
pines growing about them, which will always be a landmark for any future
traveller who may seek the wild seclusion of these sequestered caves.
The bearing of the water from them is south 51&deg; west, and it is
about a mile on that bearing from the northern heap; that with a glance
at my map would enable any ordinary bushman to find it. I sowed a
quantity of vegetable seeds here, also seeds of the Tasmanian blue
gum-tree, some wattles and clover, rye and prairie-grass. In the bright
gleams of the morning, in this Austral land of dawning, it was beautiful
to survey this little spot; everything seemed in miniature
here&mdash;little hills, little glen, little trees, little tarn, and
little water. Though the early mornings were cool and pleasant, the days
usually turned out just the opposite. On the 11th Mr. Carmichael and I
got fresh horses, and I determined to try the country more to the south,
and leaving Alec Robinson and the little dog Monkey again in charge of
glen, and camp, and tarn, away we went in that direction. At first we
travelled over sandhills, timbered with the fine Casuarina decaisneana,
or desert oak; we then met some eucalyptus-trees growing promiscuously
on the tops of the sandhills, as well as in the hollows. At twelve miles
we rode over a low ridge; the country in advance appeared no more
inviting than that already travelled. Descending to the lower ground,
however, we entered upon a bit of better country, covered with green
grass, there was also some thick mulga scrub upon it. Here we saw a few
kangaroos and emus, but could not get a shot at them. Beyond this we
entered timbered country again, the desert oak being quite a desert
sign. In a few miles farther another ridge fronted us, and a trifle on
our left lay a hollow, or valley, which seemed to offer the best road,
but we had to ride through some very scrubby gullies, stony, and covered
with spinifex. It eventually formed the valley of a small creek, which
soon had a few gum-trees on it. After following this about four miles,
we saw a place where the sand was damp, and got some water by scratching
with our hands. The supply was insufficient, and we went farther down
and found a small hole with just enough for our three horses, and now,
having found a little, we immediately wanted to find a great deal more.
At twenty-six miles from the tarn we found a place where the natives had
dug, and there seemed a good supply, so we camped there for the night.
The grass along this creek was magnificent, being about eight inches
high and beautifully green, the old grass having been burnt some time
ago. It was a most refreshing sight to our triodia-accustomed eyes; at
twelve o'clock the thermometer stood at 94&deg; in the shade. The trend
of this little creek, and the valley in which it exists, is to the
south-east. Having found water here, we were prepared to find numerous
traces of natives, and soon saw old camps and wurleys, and some recent
footmarks. I was exceedingly gratified to find this water, as I hoped it
would eventually enable me to get out of the wretched bed of sand and
scrub into which we had been forced since leaving the Finke, and which
evidently occupies such an enormous extent of territory. Our horses fed
all night close at hand, and we were in our saddles early enough. I
wanted to go west, and the further west the better; but we decided to
follow the creek and see what became of it, and if any more waters
existed in it. We found that it meandered through a piece of open plain,
splendidly grassed, and delightful to gaze upon. How beautiful is the
colour of green! What other colour could even Nature have chosen with
which to embellish the face of the earth? How, indeed, would red, or
blue, or yellow pall upon the eye! But green, emerald green, is the
loveliest of all Nature's hues. The soil of this plain was good and
firm. The creek had now worn a deep channel, and in three miles from
where we camped we came upon the top of a high red bank, with a very
nice little water-hole underneath. There was abundance of water for 100
or 200 horses for a month or two, and plenty more in the sand below.
Three other ponds were met lower down, and I believe water can always be
got by digging. We followed the creek for a mile or two farther, and
found that it soon became exhausted, as casuarina and triodia sandhills
environed the little plain, and after the short course of scarcely ten
miles, the little creek became swallowed up by those water-devouring
monsters. This was named Laurie's Creek.

<p>There was from 6000 to 10,000 acres of fine grass land in this little
plain, and it was such a change from the sterile, triodia, and sandy
country outside it, I could not resist calling it the Vale of Tempe. We
left the exhausted creek, and in ten miles from our camp we entered on
and descended into another valley, which was open, but had no signs of
any water. From a hill I saw some ridges stretching away to the south
and south-west, and to the west also appeared broken ridges. I decided
to travel about south-west, as it appeared the least stony. In eight
miles we had met the usual country. At eighteen we turned the horses out
for an hour on a burnt patch, during which the thermometer stood at
94&deg; in the shade; we then left for some ridges through a small gap
or pass between two hills, which formed into a small creek-channel. As
it was now dark, we camped near the pass, without water, having
travelled thirty-five miles. In the morning we found the country in
front of us to consist of a small well grassed plain, which was as
green, as at the last camp. The horses rambled in search of water up
into a small gully, which joins this one; it had a few gum-trees on it.
We saw a place where the natives had dug for water, but not very
recently. We scratched out a lot of sand with our hands, and some water
percolated through, but the hole was too deep to get any out for the
horses, as we had no means of removing the sand, having no shovel. Upon
searching farther up the gully we found some good-sized rock-holes, but
unfortunately they were all dry. We next ascended a hill to view the
surrounding country, and endeavour to discover if there was any feature
in any direction to induce us to visit, and where we might find a fresh
supply of water. There were several fires raging in various directions
upon the southern horizon, and the whole atmosphere was thick with a
smoky haze. After a long and anxious scrutiny through the smoke far,
very far away, a little to the west of south, I descried the outline of
a range of hills, and right in the smoke of one fire an exceedingly high
and abruptly-ending mountain loomed. To the south east-wards other
ranges appeared; they seemed to lie nearly north and south.

<p>The high mountain was very remote; it must be at least seventy or
seventy-five miles away, with nothing apparently between but a country
similar to that immediately before and behind us; that is to say,
sandhills and scrub. I was, however, delighted to perceive any feature
for which to make as a medium point, and which might help to change the
character and monotony of the country over which I have been wandering
so long. I thought it not improbable that some extensive watercourses
may proceed from these new ranges which might lead me at last away to
the west. For the present, not being able to get water at this little
glen, although I believe a supply can be obtained with a shovel, I
decided to return to the tarn at Glen Edith, which was now fifty-five
miles away, remove the camp to the newly-found creek at the Vale of
Tempe, and then return here, open out this watering place with a shovel,
and make a straight line for the newly-discovered high mountain to the
south. By the time these conclusions had been arrived at, and our
wanderings about the rocks completed, it was nearly midday; and as we
had thirty-five miles to travel to get back to the creek, it took us all
the remainder of the day to do so; and it was late when we again
encamped upon its friendly banks. The thermometer to-day had stood at
96&deg;. We now had our former tracks to return upon to the tarn. The
morning was cool and pleasant, and we arrived at the depot early. Alec
Robinson informed me that he believed some natives had been prowling
about the camp in our absence, as the little dog had been greatly
perturbed during two of the nights we were away. It was very possible
that some natives had come to the tarn for water, as well as to spy out
who and what and how many vile and wicked intruders had found their way
into this secluded spot; but as they must have walked about on the rocks
they left no traces of their visit.

<p>OCTOBER 15TH.

<p>This morning's meal was to be the last we should make at our friendly
little tarn, whose opportune waters, ripe figs, miniature mountains, and
imitation fortresses, will long linger in my recollection. Opposite the
rocks in which the water lies, and opposite the camp also, is a series
of small fort-like stony eminences, standing apart; these form one side
of the glen; the other is formed by the rocks at the base of the main
ridge, where the camp and water are situated. This really was a most
delightful little spot, though it certainly had one great nuisance,
which is almost inseparable from pine-trees, namely ants. These horrid
pests used to crawl into and over everything and everybody, by night as
well as by day. The horses took their last drink at the little
sweet-watered tarn, and we moved away for our new home to the south.

<hr>

<h4><a name="ch1.6">CHAPTER 1.6. FROM 15TH OCTOBER, 1872 TO 31ST JANUARY, 1873.</a></h4>
<blockquote>
Move the camp to new creek. 
Revisit the pass. 
Hornets and diamond birds. 
More ornamented caves. 
Map study. 
Start for the mountain. 
A salt lake. 
A barrier. 
Brine ponds. 
Horses nearly lost. 
Exhausted horses. 
Follow the lake. 
A prospect wild and weird. 
Mount Olga. 
Sleepless animals. 
A day's rest. 
A National Gallery. 
Signal for natives. 
The lake again. 
High hill westward. 
Mount Unapproachable. 
McNicol's range. 
Heat increasing. 
Sufferings and dejection of the horses. 
Worrill's Pass. 
Glen Thirsty. 
Food all gone. 
Review of our situation. 
Horse staked. 
Pleasure of a bath. 
A journey eastward. 
Better regions. 
A fine creek. 
Fine open country. 
King's Creek. 
Carmichael's Crag. 
Penny's Creek. 
Stokes's Creek. 
A swim. 
Bagot's Creek. 
Termination of the range. 
Trickett's Creek. 
George Gill's range. 
Petermann's Creek. 
Return. 
Two natives. 
A host of aborigines. 
Break up the depot. 
Improvement in the horses. 
Carmichael's resolve. 
Levi's Range. 
Follow the Petermann. 
Enter a glen. 
Up a tree. 
Rapid retreat. 
Escape glen. 
A new creek. 
Fall over a bank. 
Middleton's Pass. 
Good country. 
Friendly natives. 
Rogers's Pass. 
Seymour's Range. 
A fenced-in water-hole. 
Briscoe's Pass. 
The Finke. 
Resight the pillar. 
Remarks on the Finke. 
Reach the telegraph line. 
Native boys. 
I buy one. 
The Charlotte Waters. 
Colonel Warburton. 
Arrive at the Peake. 
News of Dick. 
Reach Adelaide. 
</blockquote>
<p>It was late in the day when we left Glen Edith, and consequently very
much later by the time we had unpacked all the horses at the end of our
twenty-nine mile stage; it was then too dark to reach the lower or best
water-holes. To-day there was an uncommon reversal of the usual order in
the weather&mdash;the early part of the day being hot and sultry, but
towards evening the sky became overcast and cloudy, and the evening set
in cold and windy. Next morning we found that one horse had staked
himself in the coronet very severely, and that he was quite lame. I got
some mulga wood out of the wound, but am afraid there is much still
remaining. This wood, used by the natives for spear-heads, contains a
virulent poisonous property, and a spear or stake wound with it is very
dangerous. The little mare that foaled at Mount Udor, and was such an
object of commiseration, has picked up wonderfully, and is now in good
working condition. I have another mare, Marzetti, soon to foal; but as
she is fat, I do not anticipate having to destroy her progeny. We did
not move the camp to-day. Numbers of bronze-winged pigeons came to
drink, and we shot several of them. The following day Mr. Carmichael and
I again mounted our horses, taking with us a week's supply of rations,
and started off intending to visit the high mountain seen at our last
farthest point. We left Alec Robinson again in charge of the camp, as he
had now got quite used to it, and said he liked it. He always had my
little dog Monkey for a companion. When travelling through the spinifex
we carried the little animal. He is an excellent watchdog, and not a
bird can come near the camp without his giving warning. Alec had plenty
of firearms and ammunition to defend himself with, in case of an attack
from the natives. This, however, I did not anticipate; indeed, I wished
they would come (in a friendly way), and had instructed Alec to
endeavour to detain one or two of them until my return if they should
chance to approach. Alec was a very strange, indeed disagreeable and
sometimes uncivil, sort of man; he had found our travels so different
from his preconceived ideas, as he thought he was going on a picnic, and
he often grumbled and declared he would like to go back again. However,
to remain at the camp, with nothing whatever to do and plenty to eat,
admirably suited him, and I felt no compunction in leaving him by
himself. I would not have asked him to remain if I were in any way
alarmed at his position.

<p>We travelled now by a slightly different route, more easterly, as
there were other ridges in that direction, and we might find another and
better watering place than that at the pass. It is only at or near
ridges in this strange region that the traveller can expect to find
water, as in the sandy beds of scrub intervening between them, water
would simply sink away. We passed through some very thick mulga, which,
being mostly dead, ripped our pack-bags, clothes, and skin, as we had
continually to push the persistent boughs and branches aside to
penetrate it. We reached a hill in twenty miles, and saw at a glance
that no favourable signs of obtaining water existed, for it was merely a
pile of loose stones or rocks standing up above the scrubs around. The
view was desolate in the extreme; we had now come thirty miles, but we
pushed on ten miles for another hill, to the south-east, and after
penetrating the usual scrub, we reached its base in the dark, and
camped. In the morning I climbed the hill, but no water could be seen or
procured. This hill was rugged with broken granite boulders, scrubby
with mulga and bushes, and covered with triodia to its summit. To the
south a vague and strange horizon was visible; it appeared flat, as
though a plain of great extent existed there, but as the mirage played
upon it, I could not make anything of it. My old friend the high
mountain loomed large and abrupt at a great distance off, and it bore
8&deg; 30&acute; west from here, too great a distance for us to proceed
to it at once, without first getting water for our horses, as it was
possible that no water might exist even in the neighbourhood of such a
considerable mountain. The horses rambled in the night; when they were
found we started away for the little pass and glen where we knew water
was to be got, and which was now some thirty miles away to the
west-north-west. We reached it somewhat late. The day was hot,
thermometer 98&deg; in shade, and the horses very thirsty, but they
could get no water until we had dug a place for them. Although we had
reached our camping ground our day's work was only about to commence. We
were not long in obtaining enough water for ourselves, such as it
was&mdash;thick and dirty with a nauseous flavour&mdash;but first we had
to tie the horses up, to prevent them jumping in on us. We found to our
grief that but a poor supply was to be expected, and though we had not
to dig very deep, yet we had to remove an enormous quantity of sand, so
as to create a sufficient surface to get water to run in, and had to dig
a tank twenty feet long by six feet deep, and six feet wide at the
bottom, though at the top it was much wider. I may remark&mdash;and what
I now say applies to almost every other water I ever got by digging in
all my wanderings&mdash;that whenever we commenced to dig, a swarm of
large and small red hornets immediately came around us, and, generally
speaking, diamond birds (Amadina) would also come and twitter near, and
when water was got, would drink in great numbers. With regard to the
hornets, though they swarmed round our heads and faces in clouds, no one
was ever stung by them, nature and instinct informing them that we were
their friends. We worked and waited for two hours before one of our
three horses could obtain a drink. The water came so slowly in that it
took nearly all the night before the last animal's thirst was assuaged,
as by the time the third got a drink, the first was ready to begin
again, and they kept returning all through the night. We rested our
horses here to-day to allow them to fill themselves with food, as no
doubt they will require all the support they can get to sustain them in
their work before we reach the distant mountain. We passed the day in
enlarging the tank, and were glad to find that, though no increase in
the supply of water was observable, still there seemed no diminution, as
now a horse could fill himself at one spell. We took a stroll up into
the rocks and gullies of the ridges, and found a Troglodytes' cave
ornamented with the choicest specimens of aboriginal art. The rude
figures of snakes were the principal objects, but hands, and devices for
shields were also conspicuous. One hieroglyph was most striking; it
consisted of two Roman numerals&mdash;a V and an I, placed together and
representing the figure VI; they were both daubed over with spots, and
were painted with red ochre. Several large rock-holes were seen, but
they had all long lain dry. A few cypress pines grew upon the rocks in
several places. The day was decidedly hot; the thermometer stood at
100&deg; in the shade at three o'clock, and we had to fix up a cloth for
an awning to get sufficient shade to sit under. Our only intellectual
occupation was the study of a small map of Australia, showing the routes
of the Australian explorers. How often we noted the facility with which
other and more fortunate travellers dropped upon fine creeks and large
rivers. We could only envy them their good fortune, and hope the future
had some prizes in store for us also. The next morning, after taking
three hours to water our horses, we started on the bearing of the high
mount, which could not be seen from the low ground, the bearing being
south 18&deg; west. We got clear of the low hills of the glen, and
almost immediately entered thick scrubs, varied by high sandhills, with
casuarina and triodia on them. At twelve miles I noticed the sandhills
became denuded of timber, and on our right a small and apparently grassy
plain was visible; I took these signs as a favourable indication of a
change of country. At three miles farther we had a white salt channel
right in front of us, with some sheets of water in it; upon approaching
I found it a perfect bog, and the water brine itself. We went round this
channel to the left, and at length found a place firm enough to cross.
We continued upon our course, and on ascending a high sandhill I found
we had upon our right hand, and stretching away to the west, an enormous
salt expanse, and it appeared as if we had hit exactly upon the eastern
edge of it, at which we rejoiced greatly for a time. Continuing on our
course over treeless sandhills for a mile or two, we found we had not
escaped this feature quite so easily, for it was now right in our road;
it appeared, however, to be bounded by sandhills a little more to the
left, eastwards; so we went in that direction, but at each succeeding
mile we saw more and more of this objectionable feature; it continually
pushed us farther and farther to the east, until, having travelled about
fifteen miles, and had it constantly on our right, it swept round under
some more sandhills which hid it from us, till it lay east and west
right athwart our path. It was most perplexing to me to be thus
confronted by such an obstacle. We walked a distance on its surface, and
to our weight it seemed firm enough, but the instant we tried our horses
they almost disappeared. The surface was dry and encrusted with salt,
but brine spurted out at every step the horses took. We dug a well under
a sandhill, but only obtained brine.

<p>This obstruction was apparently six or seven miles across, but
whether what we took for its opposite shores were islands or the main, I
could not determine. We saw several sandhill islands, some very high and
deeply red, to which the mirage gave the effect of their floating in an
ocean of water. Farther along the shore eastwards were several high red
sandhills; to these we went and dug another well and got more brine. We
could see the lake stretching away east or east-south-east as far as the
glasses could carry the vision. Here we made another attempt to cross,
but the horses were all floundering about in the bottomless bed of this
infernal lake before we could look round. I made sure they would be
swallowed up before our eyes. We were powerless to help them, for we
could not get near owing to the bog, and we sank up over our knees,
where the crust was broken, in hot salt mud. All I could do was to crack
my whip to prevent the horses from ceasing to exert themselves, and
although it was but a few moments that they were in this danger, to me
it seemed an eternity. They staggered at last out of the quagmire,
heads, backs, saddles, everything covered with blue mud, their mouths
were filled with salt mud also, and they were completely exhausted when
they reached firm ground. We let them rest in the shade of some quandong
trees, which grew in great numbers round about here. From Mount Udor to
the shores of this lake the country had been continually falling. The
northern base of each ridge, as we travelled, seemed higher by many feet
than the southern, and I had hoped to come upon something better than
this. I thought such a continued fall of country might lead to a
considerable watercourse or freshwater basin; but this salt bog was
dreadful, the more especially as it prevented me reaching the mountain
which appeared so inviting beyond.

<p>Not seeing any possibility of pushing south, and thinking after all
it might not be so far round the lake to the west, I turned to where we
had struck the first salt channel, and resolved to try what a more
westerly line would produce. The channel in question was now some
fifteen miles away to the north-westward, and by the time we got back
there the day was done and &ldquo;the darkness had fallen from the wings
of night.&rdquo; We had travelled nearly fifty miles, the horses were
almost dead; the thermometer stood at 100&deg; in the shade when we
rested under the quandongs. In the night blankets were unendurable. Had
there been any food for them the horses could not eat for thirst, and
were too much fatigued by yesterday's toil to go out of sight of our
camping place. We followed along the course of the lake north of west
for seven miles, when we were checked by a salt arm running
north-eastwards; this we could not cross until we had gone up it a
distance of three miles. Then we made for some low ridges lying
west-south-west and reached them in twelve miles. There was neither
watercourse, channel, nor rock-holes; we wandered for several miles
round the ridges, looking for water, but without success, and got back
on our morning's tracks when we had travelled thirty miles. From the top
of these ridges the lake could be seen stretching away to the west or
west-south-west in vast proportions, having several salt arms running
back from it at various distances. Very far to the west was another
ridge, but it was too distant for me to reach now, as to-night the
horses would have been two nights without water, and the probability was
they would get none there if they reached it. I determined to visit it,
however, but I felt I must first return to the tank in the little glen
to refresh the exhausted horses. From where we are, the prospect is wild
and weird, with the white bed of the great lake sweeping nearly the
whole southern horizon. The country near the lake consists of open
sandhills, thickly bushed and covered with triodia; farther back grew
casuarinas and mulga scrubs.

<p>It was long past the middle of the day when I descended from the
hill. We had no alternative but to return to the only spot where we knew
water was to be had; this was now distant twenty-one miles to the
north-east, so we departed in a straight line for it. I was heartily
annoyed at being baffled in my attempt to reach the mountain, which I
now thought more than ever would offer a route out of this terrible
region; but it seemed impossible to escape from it. I named this
eminence Mount Olga, and the great salt feature which obstructed me Lake
Amadeus, in honour of two enlightened royal patrons of science. The
horses were now exceedingly weak; the bogging of yesterday had taken a
great deal of strength out of them, and the heat of the last two days
had contributed to weaken them (the thermometer to-day went up to
101&deg; in shade). They could now only travel slowly, so that it was
late at night when we reached the little tank. Fifty miles over such
disheartening country to-day has been almost too much for the poor
animals. In the tank there was only sufficient water for one horse; the
others had to be tied up and wait their turns to drink, and the water
percolated so slowly through the sand it was nearly midnight before they
were all satisfied and begun to feed. What wonderful creatures horses
are! They can work for two and three days and go three nights without
water, but they can go for ever without sleep; it is true they do sleep,
but equally true that they can go without sleeping. If I took my choice
of all creation for a beast to guard and give me warning while I slept,
I would select the horse, for he is the most sleepless creature Nature
has made. Horses seem to know this; for if you should by chance catch
one asleep he seems very indignant either with you or himself.

<p>It was absolutely necessary to give our horses a day's rest, as they
looked so much out of sorts this morning. A quarter of the day was spent
in watering them, and by that time it was quite hot, and we had to erect
an awning for shade. We were overrun by ants, and pestered by flies, so
in self-defence we took another walk into the gullies, revisited the
aboriginal National Gallery of paintings and hieroglyphics, and then
returned to our shade and our ants. Again we pored over the little
German map, and again envied more prosperous explorers. The thermometer
had stood at 101&deg; in the shade, and the greatest pleasure we
experienced that day was to see the orb of day descend. The atmosphere
had been surcharged all day with smoke, and haze hung over all the land,
for the Autochthones were ever busy at their hunting fires, especially
upon the opposite side of the great lake; but at night the blaze of
nearer ones kept up a perpetual light, and though the fires may have
been miles away they appeared to be quite close. I also had fallen into
the custom of the country, and had set fire to several extensive beds of
triodia, which had burned with unabated fury; so brilliant, indeed, was
the illumination that I could see to read by the light. I kindled these
fires in hopes some of the natives might come and interview us, but no
doubt in such a poorly watered region the native population cannot be
great, and the few who do inhabit it had evidently abandoned this
particular portion of it until rains should fall and enable them to hunt
while water remained in it.

<p>Last night, the 23rd October, was sultry, and blankets utterly
useless. The flies and ants were wide awake, and the only thing we could
congratulate ourselves upon, was the absence of mosquitoes. At dawn the
thermometer stood at 70&deg; and a warm breeze blew gently from the
north. The horses were found early, but as it took nearly three hours to
water them we did not leave the glen till past eight o'clock. This time
I intended to return to the ridges we had last left, and which now bore
a little to the west of south-west, twenty-one miles away. We made a
detour so as to inspect some other ridges near where we had been last.
Stony and low ridgy ground was first met, but the scrubs were all
around. At fifteen miles we came upon a little firm clayey plain with
some salt bushes, and it also had upon it some clay pans, but they had
long been dry. We found the northern face of the ridges just as
waterless as the southern, which we had previously searched. The far
hills or ridges to the west, which I now intended to visit, bore nearly
west. Another salt bush plain was next crossed; this was nearly three
miles long. We now gave the horses an hour's spell, the thermometer
showing 102&deg; in the shade; then, re-saddling, we went on, and it was
nine o'clock at night when we found ourselves under the shadows of the
hills we had steered for, having them on the north of us.

<p>I searched in the dark, but could find no feature likely to supply us
with water; we had to encamp in a nest of triodia without any water,
having travelled forty-eight miles through the usual kind of country
that occupies this region's space. At daylight the thermometer
registered 70&deg;, that being the lowest during the night. On ascending
the hill above us, there was but one feature to gaze upon&mdash;the lake
still stretching away, not only in undiminished, but evidently
increasing size, towards the west and north-west. Several lateral
channels were thrown out from the parent bed at various distances, some
broad and some narrow. A line of ridges, with one hill much more
prominent than any I had seen about this country, appeared close down
upon the shores of the lake; it bore from the hill I stood upon south
68&deg; west, and was about twenty miles off. A long broad salt arm,
however, ran up at the back of it between it and me, but just opposite
there appeared a narrow place that I thought we might cross to reach it.

<p>The ridge I was on was red granite, but there was neither creek nor
rock-hole about it. We now departed for the high hill westward, crossing
a very boggy salt channel with great difficulty, at five miles; in five
more we came to the arm. It appeared firm, but unfortunately one of the
horses got frightfully bogged, and it was only by the most frantic
exertions that we at length got him out. The bottom of this dreadful
feature, if it has a bottom, seems composed entirely of hot, blue, briny
mud. Our exertions in extricating the horse made us extremely thirsty;
the hill looked more inviting the nearer we got to it, so, still hoping
to reach it, I followed up the arm for about seven miles in a north west
direction. It proved, however, quite impassable, and it seemed utterly
useless to attempt to reach the range, as we could not tell how far we
might have to travel before we could get round the arm. I believe it
continues in a semicircle and joins the lake again, thus isolating the
hill I wished to visit. This now seemed an island it was impossible to
reach. We were sixty-five miles away from the only water we knew of,
with no likelihood of any nearer; there might certainly be water at the
mount I wished to reach, but it was unapproachable, and I called it by
that name; no doubt, had I been able to reach it, my progress would
still have been impeded to the west by the huge lake itself. I could get
no water except brine upon its shores, and I had no appliances to distil
that; could I have done so, I would have followed this feature, hideous
as it is, as no doubt sooner or later some watercourses must fall into
it either from the south or the west. We were, however, a hundred miles
from the camp, with only one man left there, and sixty-five from the
nearest water. I had no choice but to retreat, baffled, like Eyre with
his Lake Torrens in 1840, at all points. On the southern shore of the
lake, and apparently a very long way off, a range of hills bore south
30&deg; west; this range had a pinkish appearance and seemed of some
length. Mr. Carmichael wished me to call it McNicol's Range, after a
friend of his, and this I did. We turned our wretched horses' heads once
more in the direction of our little tank, and had good reason perhaps to
thank our stars that we got away alive from the lone unhallowed shore of
this pernicious sea. We kept on twenty-eight miles before we camped, and
looked at two or three places, on the way ineffectually, for some signs
of water, having gone forty-seven miles; thermometer in shade 103&deg;,
the heat increasing one degree a day for several days. When we camped we
were hungry, thirsty, tired, covered all over with dry salt mud; so that
it is not to be wondered at if our spirits were not at a very high
point, especially as we were making a forced retreat. The night was hot,
cloudy, and sultry, and rain clouds gathered in the sky. At about 1 a.m.
the distant rumblings of thunder were heard to the west-north-west, and
I was in hopes some rain might fall, as it was apparently approaching;
the thunder was not loud, but the lightning was most extraordinarily
vivid; only a few drops of rain fell, and the rest of the night was even
closer and more sultry than before.

<p>Ere the stars had left the sky we were in our saddles again; the
horses looked most pitiable objects, their flanks drawn in, the natural
vent was distended to an open and extraordinary cavity; their eyes
hollow and sunken, which is always the case with horses when greatly in
want of water. Two days of such stages will thoroughly test the finest
horse that ever stepped. We had thirty-six miles yet to travel to reach
the water. The horses being so jaded, it was late in the afternoon when
they at last crawled into the little glen; the last few miles being over
stones made the pace more slow. Not even their knowledge of the near
presence of water availed to inspirit them in the least; probably they
knew they would have to wait for hours at the tank, when they arrived,
before their cravings for water could be appeased. The thermometer
to-day was 104&deg; in the shade. When we arrived the horses had walked
131 miles without a drink, and it was no wonder that the poor creatures
were exhausted. When one horse had drank what little water there was, we
had to re-dig the tank, for the wind or some other cause had knocked a
vast amount of the sand into it again. Some natives also had visited the
place while we were away, their fresh tracks were visible in the sand
around, and on the top of the tank. They must have stared to see such a
piece of excavation in their territory. When the horses did get water,
two of them rolled, and groaned, and kicked, so that I thought they were
going to die; one was a mare, she seemed the worst, another was a strong
young horse which had carried me well, the third was my old favourite
riding-horse; this time he had only carried the pack, and was badly
bogged; he was the only one that did not appear distressed when filled
with water, the other two lay about in evident pain until morning. About
the middle of the night thunder was again heard, and flash after flash
of even more vivid lightnings than that of the previous night
enlightened the glen; so bright were the flashes, being alternately fork
and sheet lightning, that for nearly an hour the glare never ceased. The
thunder was much louder than last night's, and a slight mizzling rain
for about an hour fell. The barometer had fallen considerably for the
last two days, so I anticipated a change. The rain was too slight to be
of any use; the temperature of the atmosphere, however, was quite
changed, for by the morning the thermometer was down to 48&deg;.

<p>The horses were not fit to travel, so we had to remain, with nothing
to do, but consult the little map again, and lay off my position on it.
My farthest point I found to be in latitude 24&deg; 38&acute; and
longitude 130&deg;. For the second time I had reached nearly the same
meridian. I had been repulsed at both points, which were about a hundred
miles apart, in the first instance by dry stony ranges in the midst of
dense scrubs, and in the second by a huge salt lake equally destitute of
fresh water. It appears to me plain enough that a much more northerly or
else more southerly course must be pursued to reach the western coast,
at all events in such a country, it will be only by time and
perseverance that any explorer can penetrate it. I think I remarked
before that we entered this little glen through a pass about half-a-mile
long, between two hills of red sandstone. I named this Worrill's Pass,
after another friend of Mr. Carmichael. The little glen in which we dug
out the tank I could only call Glen Thirsty, for we never returned to it
but ourselves and our horses, were choking for water. Our supply of
rations, although we had eked it out with the greatest possible economy,
was consumed, for we brought only a week's supply, and we had now been
absent ten days from home, and we should have to fast all to-morrow,
until we reached the depot; but as the horses were unable to carry us,
we were forced to remain.

<p>During the day I had a long conversation with Mr. Carmichael upon our
affairs in general, and our stock of provisions in particular; the
conclusion we arrived at was, that having been nearly three months out,
we had not progressed so far in the time as we had expected. We had
found the country so dry that until rains fell, it seemed scarcely
probable that we should be able to penetrate farther to the west, and if
we had to remain in depot for a month or two, it was necessary by some
means to economise our stores, and the only way to do so was to dispense
with the services of Alec Robinson. It would be necessary, of course, in
the first place, to find a creek to the eastward, which would take him
to the Finke, and by the means of the same watercourse we might
eventually get round to the southern shores of Lake Amadeus, and reach
Mount Olga at last.

<p>In our journey up the Finke two or three creeks had joined from the
west, and as we were now beyond the sources of any of these, it would be
necessary to discover some road to one or the other before Robinson
could be parted with. By dispensing with his services, as he was willing
to go, we should have sufficient provisions left to enable us to hold
out for some months longer: even if we had to wait so long as the usual
rainy season in this part of the country, which is about January and
February, we should still have several months' provisions to start again
with. In all these considerations Mr. Carmichael fully agreed, and it
was decided that I should inform Alec of our resolution so soon as we
returned to the camp. After the usual nearly three hours' work to water
our horses, we turned our backs for the last time upon Glen Thirsty,
where we had so often returned with exhausted and choking horses.

<p>I must admit that I was getting anxious about Robinson and the state
of things at the camp. In going through Worrill's Pass, we noticed that
scarcely a tree had escaped from being struck by the lightning; branches
and boughs lay scattered about, and several pines from the summits of
the ridges had been blasted from their eminence. I was not very much
surprised, for I expected to be lightning-struck myself, as I scarcely
ever saw such lightning before. We got back to Robinson and the camp at
5 p.m. My old horse that carried the pack had gone quite lame, and this
caused us to travel very slowly. Robinson was alive and quite well, and
the little dog was overjoyed to greet us. Robinson reported that natives
had been frequently in the neighbourhood, and had lit fires close to the
camp, but would not show themselves. Marzetti's mare had foaled, the
progeny being a daughter; the horse that was staked was worse, and I
found my old horse had also ran a mulga stake into his coronet. I probed
the wounds of both, but could not get any wood out. Carmichael and I
both thought we would like a day's rest; and if I did not do much work,
at least I thought a good deal.

<p>The lame horses are worse: the poisonous mulga must be in the wounds,
but I can't get it out. What a pleasure it is, not only to have plenty
of water to drink, but actually to have sufficient for a bath! I told
Robinson of my views regarding him, but said he must yet remain until
some eastern waters could be found. On the 30th October, Mr. Carmichael
and I, with three fresh horses, started again. In my travels southerly I
had noticed a conspicuous range of some elevation quite distinct from
the ridges at which our camp was fixed, and lying nearly east, where an
almost overhanging crag formed its north-western face. This range I now
decided to visit. To get out of the ridges in which our creek exists, we
had to follow the trend of a valley formed by what are sometimes called
reaphook hills; these ran about east-south-east. In a few miles we
crossed an insignificant little creek with a few gum-trees; it had a
small pool of water in its bed: the valley was well grassed and open,
and the triodia was also absent. A small pass ushered us into a new
valley, in which were several peculiar conical hills. Passing over a
saddle-like pass, between two of them, we came to a flat, open valley
running all the way to the foot of the new range, with a creek channel
between. The range appeared very red and rocky, being composed of
enormous masses of red sandstone; the upper portion of it was bare, with
the exception of a few cypress pines, moored in the rifled rock, and, I
suppose, proof to the tempest's shock. A fine-looking creek, lined with
gum-trees, issued from a gorge. We followed up the channel, and Mr.
Carmichael found a fine little sheet of water in a stony hole, about 400
yards long and forty yards wide. This had about four feet of water in
it; the grass was green, and all round the foot of the range the country
was open, beautifully grassed, green, and delightful to look at. Having
found so eligible a spot, we encamped: how different from our former
line of march! We strolled up through the rocky gorge, and found several
rock reservoirs with plenty of water; some palm-like Zamias were seen
along the rocks. Down the channel, about south-west, the creek passed
through a kind of low gorge about three miles away. Smoke was seen
there, and no doubt it was an encampment of the natives. Since the heavy
though dry thunderstorm at Glen Thirsty, the temperature has been much
cooler. I called this King's Creek. Another on the western flat beyond
joins it. I called the north-west point of this range Carmichael's Crag.
The range trended a little south of east, and we decided to follow along
its southern face, which was open, grassy, and beautifully green; it was
by far the most agreeable and pleasant country we had met.

<h5><a name="i7">ILLUSTRATION 7</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t07.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>PENNY'S CREEK.</h5>

<p>At about five miles we crossed another creek coming immediately out
of the range, where it issued from under a high and precipitous wall of
rock, underneath which was a splendid deep and pellucid basin of the
purest water, which came rushing into and out of it through fissures in
the mountain: it then formed a small swamp thickly set with reeds, which
covered an area of several acres, having plenty of water among them. I
called this Penny's Creek. Half a mile beyond it was a similar one and
reed bed, but no such splendid rock reservoir. Farther along the range
other channels issued too, with fine rock water-holes. At eighteen miles
we reached a much larger one than we had yet seen: I hoped this might
reach the Finke. We followed it into the range, where it came down
through a glen: here we found three fine rock-holes with good supplies
of water in them. The glen and rock is all red sandstone: the place
reminded me somewhat of Captain Sturt's Depot Glen in the Grey ranges of
his Central Australian Expedition, only the rock formation is different,
though a cliff overhangs both places, and there are other points of
resemblance. I named this Stokes's Creek.

<p>We rested here an hour and had a swim in one of the rocky basins. How
different to regions westward, where we could not get enough water to
drink, let alone to swim in! The water ran down through the glen as far
as the rock-holes, where it sank into the ground. Thermometer 102&deg;
to-day. We continued along the range, having a fine stretch of open
grassy country to travel upon, and in five miles reached another creek,
whose reed beds and water filled the whole glen. This I named Bagot's
Creek. For some miles no other creek issued, till, approaching the
eastern end of the range, we had a piece of broken stony ground and some
mulga for a few miles, when we came to a sudden fall into a lower
valley, which was again open, grassy, and green. We could then see that
the range ended, but sent out one more creek, which meandered down the
valley towards some other hills beyond; this valley was of a clayey
soil, and the creek had some clay holes with water in them. Following it
three miles farther, we found that it emptied itself into a much larger
stony mountain stream; I named this Trickett's Creek, after a friend of
Mr. Carmichael's. The range which had thrown out so many creeks, and
contained so much water, and which is over forty miles in length, I
named George Gill's Range, after my brother-in-law. The country round
its foot is by far the best I have seen in this region; and could it be
transported to any civilised land, its springs, glens, gorges, ferns,
Zamias, and flowers, would charm the eyes and hearts of toil-worn men
who are condemned to live and die in crowded towns.

<p>The new creek now just discovered had a large stony water-hole
immediately above and below the junction of Trickett's Creek, and as we
approached the lower one, I noticed several native wurleys just
deserted; their owners having seen us while we only thought of them, had
fled at our approach, and left all their valuables behind. These
consisted of clubs, spears, shields, drinking vessels, yam sticks, with
other and all the usual appliances of well-furnished aboriginal
gentlemen's establishments. Three young native dog-puppies came out,
however, to welcome us, but when we dismounted and they smelt us, not
being used to such refined odours as our garments probably exhaled, they
fled howling. The natives had left some food cooking, and when I cooeyed
they answered, but would not come near. This creek was of some size; it
seemed to pass through a valley in a new range further eastwards. It
came from the north-west, apparently draining the northern side of
Gill's Range. I called it Petermann's Creek. We were now sixty-five
miles from our depot, and had been most successful in our efforts to
find a route to allow of the departure of Robinson, as it appeared that
this creek would surely reach the Finke, though we afterwards found it
did not. I intended upon returning here to endeavour to discover a line
of country round the south-eastern extremity of Lake Amadeus, so as to
reach Mount Olga at last. We now turned our horses' heads again for our
home camp, and continued travelling until we reached Stokes's Creek,
where we encamped after a good long day's march.

<p>This morning, as we were approaching Penny's Creek, we saw two
natives looking most intently at our outgoing horse tracks, along which
they were slowly walking, with their backs towards us. They neither saw
nor heard us until we were close upon their heels. Each carried two
enormously long spears, two-thirds mulga wood and one-third reed at the
throwing end, of course having the instrument with which they project
these spears, called by some tribes of natives only, but
indiscriminately all over the country by whites, a wommerah. It is in
the form of a flat ellipse, elongated to a sort of tail at the holding
end, and short-pointed at the projecting end; a kangaroo's claw or wild
dog's tooth is firmly fixed by gum and gut-strings. The projectile force
of this implement is enormous, and these spears can be thrown with the
greatest precision for more than a hundred yards. They also had narrow
shields, three to four feet long, to protect themselves from hostile
spears, with a handle cut out in the centre. These two natives had their
hair tied up in a kind of chignon at the back of the head, the hair
being dragged back off the forehead from infancy. This mode gave them a
wild though somewhat effeminate appearance; others, again, wear their
hair in long thick curls reaching down the shoulders, beautifully
elaborated with iguanas' or emus' fat and red ochre. This applies only
to the men; the women's hair is worn either cut with flints or bitten
off short. So soon as the two natives heard, and then looking round saw
us, they scampered off like emus, running along as close to the ground
as it is possible for any two-legged creature to do. One was quite a
young fellow, the other full grown. They ran up the side of the hills,
and kept travelling along parallel to us; but though we stopped and
called, and signalled with boughs, they would not come close, and the
oftener I tried to come near them on foot, the faster they ran. They
continued alongside us until King's Creek was reached, where we rested
the horses for an hour. We soon became aware that a number of natives
were in our vicinity, our original two yelling and shouting to inform
the others of our advent, and presently we saw a whole nation of them
coming from the glen or gorge to the south-west, where I had noticed
camp-fires on my first arrival here. The new people were also shouting
and yelling in the most furious and demoniacal manner; and our former
two, as though deputed by the others, now approached us much nearer than
before, and came within twenty yards of us, but holding their spears
fixed in their wommerahs, in such a position that they could use them
instantly if they desired. The slightest incident might have induced
them to spear us, but we appeared to be at our ease, and endeavoured to
parley with them. The men were not handsome or fat, but were very well
made, and, as is the case with most of the natives of these parts, were
rather tall, namely five feet eight and nine inches. When they had come
close enough, the elder began to harangue us, and evidently desired us
to know that we were trespassers, and were to be off forthwith, as he
waved us away in the direction we had come from. The whole host then
took up the signal, howled, yelled, and waved their hands and weapons at
us. Fortunately, however, they did not actually attack us; we were not
very well prepared for attack, as we had only a revolver each, our guns
and rifles being left with Robinson. As our horses were frightened and
would not feed, we hurried our departure, when we were saluted with
rounds of cheers and blessings, i.e. yells and curses in their charming
dialect, until we were fairly out of sight and hearing. On reaching the
camp, Alec reported that no natives had been seen during our absence. On
inspecting the two lame horses, it appeared they were worse than ever.

<p>We had a very sudden dry thunderstorm, which cooled the air. Next day
I sent Alec and Carmichael over to the first little five-mile creek
eastwards with the two lame horses, so that we can pick them up en route
to-morrow. They reported that the horses could scarcely travel at all; I
thought if I could get them to Penny's Creek I would leave them there.
This little depot camp was at length broken up, after it had existed
here from 15th October to 5th November. I never expected, after being
nearly three months out, that I should be pushing to the eastwards, when
every hope and wish I had was to go in exactly the opposite direction,
and I could only console myself with the thought that I was going to the
east to get to the west at last. I have great hopes that if I can once
set my foot upon Mount Olga, my route to the west may be unimpeded. I
had not seen all the horses together for some time, and when they were
mustered this morning, I found they had all greatly improved in
condition, and almost the fattest among them was the little mare that
had foaled at Mount Udor. Marzetti's mare looked very well also.

<p>It was past midday when we turned our backs upon Tempe's Vale. At the
five-mile creek we got the two lame horses, and reached King's Creek
somewhat late in the afternoon. As we neared it, we saw several natives'
smokes, and immediately the whole region seemed alive with aborigines,
men, women, and children running down from the highest points of the
mountain to join the tribe below, where they all congregated. The
yelling, howling, shrieking, and gesticulating they kept up was, to say
the least, annoying. When we began to unpack the horses, they crowded
closer round us, carrying their knotted sticks, long spears, and other
fighting implements. I did not notice any boomerangs among them, and I
did not request them to send for any. They were growing very
troublesome, and evidently meant mischief. I rode towards a mob of them
and cracked my whip, which had no effect in dispersing them. They made a
sudden pause, and then gave a sudden shout or howl. It seemed as if they
knew, or had heard something, of white men's ways, for when I unstrapped
my rifle, and holding it up, warning them away, to my great astonishment
they departed; they probably wanted to find out if we possessed such
things, and I trust they were satisfied, for they gave us up apparently
as a bad lot.

<p>It appeared the exertion of travelling had improved the go of the
lame horses, so I took them along with the others in the morning; I did
not like the idea of leaving them anywhere on this range, as the natives
would certainly spear, and probably eat them. We got them along to
Stokes's Creek, and encamped at the swimming rock-hole.

<p>After our frugal supper a circumstance occurred which completely put
an end to my expedition. Mr. Carmichael informed me that he had made up
his mind not to continue in the field any longer, for as Alec Robinson
was going away, he should do so too. Of course I could not control him;
he was a volunteer, and had contributed towards the expenses of the
expedition. We had never fallen out, and I thought he was as ardent in
the cause of exploration as I was, so that when he informed me of his
resolve it came upon me as a complete surprise. My arguments were all in
vain; in vain I showed how, with the stock of provisions we had, we
might keep the field for months. I even offered to retreat to the Finke,
so that we should not have such arduous work for want of water, but it
was all useless.

<p>It was with distress that I lay down on my blankets that night, after
what he had said. I scarcely knew what to do. I had yet a lot of horses
heavily loaded with provisions; but to take them out into a waterless,
desert country by myself, was impossible. We only went a short
distance&mdash;to Bagot's Creek, where I renewed my arguments. Mr.
Carmichael's reply was, that he had made up his mind and nothing should
alter it; the consequence was that with one companion I had, so to
speak, discharged, and another who discharged himself, any further
exploration was out of the question. I had no other object now in view
but to hasten my return to civilisation, in hopes of reorganising my
expedition. We were now in full retreat for the telegraph line; but as I
still traversed a region previously unexplored, I may as well continue
my narrative to the close. Marzetti's foal couldn't travel, and had to
be killed at Bagot's Creek.

<p>On Friday, the 8th November, the party, now silent, still moved under
my directions. We travelled over the same ground that Mr. Carmichael and
I had formerly done, until we reached the Petermann in the Levi Range.
The natives and their pups had departed. The hills approached this creek
so close as to form a valley; there were several water-holes in the
creek; we followed its course as far as the valley existed. When the
country opened, the creek spread out, and the water ceased to appear in
its bed. We kept moving all day; towards evening I saw some gum-trees
under some hills two or three miles southwards, and as some smoke
appeared above the hills, I knew that natives must have been there
lately, and that water might be got there. Accordingly, leaving
Carmichael and Robinson to go on with the horses, I rode over, and found
there was the channel of a small creek, which narrowed into a kind of
glen the farther I penetrated. The grass was burning on all the
hillsides, and as I went still farther up, I could hear the voices of
the natives, and I felt pretty sure of finding water. I was, however,
slightly anxious as to what reception I should get. I soon saw a single
native leisurely walking along in front of me with an iguana in his
hand, taking it home for supper. He carried several spears, a wommerah,
and a shield, and had long curled locks hanging down his shoulders. My
horse's nose nearly touched his back before he was aware of my presence,
when, looking behind him, he gave a sudden start, held up his two hands,
dropped his iguana and his spears, uttered a tremendous yell as a
warning to his tribe, and bounded up the rocks in front of us like a
wallaby. I then passed under a eucalyptus-tree, in whose foliage two
ancient warriors had hastily secreted themselves. I stopped a second and
looked up at them, they also looked at me; they presented a most
ludicrous appearance. A little farther on there were several rows of
wurleys, and I could perceive the men urging the women and children
away, as they doubtless supposed many more white men were in company
with me, never supposing I could possibly be alone. While the women and
children were departing up the rocks, the men snatched up spears and
other weapons, and followed the women slowly towards the rocks. The glen
had here narrowed to a gorge, the rocks on either side being not more
than eighty to a hundred feet high. It is no exaggeration to say that
the summits of the rocks on either side of the glen were lined with
natives; they could almost touch me with their spears. I did not feel
quite at home in this charming retreat, although I was the cynosure of a
myriad eyes. The natives stood upon the edge of the rocks like statues,
some pointing their spears menacingly towards me, and I certainly
expected that some dozens would be thrown at me. Both parties seemed
paralysed by the appearance of the other. I scarcely knew what to do; I
knew if I turned to retreat that every spear would be launched at me. I
was, metaphorically, transfixed to the spot. I thought the only thing to
do was to brave the situation out, as

<p class="poem">&ldquo;Cowards, 'tis said, in certain situations
<br>Derive a sort of courage from despair; 
<br>And then perform, from downright desperation,
<br>Much bolder deeds than many a braver man would dare.&rdquo;

<h5><a name="i8">ILLUSTRATION 8</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t08.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>ESCAPE GLEN&mdash;THE ADVANCE.</h5>

<h5><a name="i9">ILLUSTRATION 9</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t09.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>ESCAPE GLEN&mdash;THE RETREAT.</h5>
 
<h5><a name="i10">ILLUSTRATION 10</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t10.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>MIDDLETON'S PASS AND FISH PONDS.</h5>

<p>I was choking with thirst, though in vain I looked for a sheet of
water; but seeing where they had dug out some sand, I advanced to one or
two wells in which I could see water, but without a shovel only a native
could get any out of such a funnel-shaped hole. In sheer desperation I
dismounted and picked up a small wooden utensil from one of the wurleys,
thinking if I could only get a drink I should summon up pluck for the
last desperate plunge. I could only manage to get up a few mouthfuls of
dirty water, and my horse was trying to get in on top of me. So far as I
could see, there were only two or three of these places where all those
natives got water. I remounted my horse, one of the best and fastest I
have. He knew exactly what I wanted because he wished it also, and that
was to be gone. I mounted slowly with my face to the enemy, but the
instant I was on he sprang round and was away with a bound that almost
left me behind; then such demoniacal yells greeted my ears as I had
never heard before and do not wish to hear again; the echoes of the
voices of these now indignant and infuriated creatures reverberating
through the defiles of the hills, and the uncouth sounds of the voices
themselves smote so discordantly on my own and my horse's ears that we
went out of that glen faster, oh! ever so much faster, than we went in.
I heard a horrid sound of spears, sticks, and other weapons, striking
violently upon the ground behind me, but I did not stop to pick up any
of them, or even to look round to see what caused it. Upon rejoining my
companions, as we now seldom spoke to one another, I merely told them I
had seen water and natives, but that it was hardly worth while to go
back to the place, but that they could go if they liked. Robinson asked
me why I had ridden my horse West Australian&mdash;shortened to W.A.,
but usually called Guts, from his persistent attention to his
&ldquo;inwards&rdquo;&mdash;so hard when there seemed no likelihood's of
our getting any water for the night? I said, &ldquo;Ride him back and
see.&rdquo; I called this place Escape Glen. In two or three miles after
I overtook them, the Petermann became exhausted on the plains. We pushed
on nearly east, as now we must strike the Finke in forty-five to fifty
miles; but we had to camp that night without water. The lame horses went
better the farther they were driven. I hoped to travel the lameness out
of them, as instances of that kind have occurred with me more than once.
We were away from our dry camp early, and had scarcely proceeded two
miles when we struck the bank of a broad sandy-bedded creek, which was
almost as broad as the Finke itself: just where we struck it was on top
of a red bank twenty or thirty feet high. The horses naturally looking
down into the bed below, one steady old file of a horse, that carried my
boxes with the instruments, papers, quicksilver, etc., went too close,
the bank crumbled under him, and down he fell, raising a cloud of red
dust. I rode up immediately, expecting to see a fine smash, but no,
there he was, walking along on the sandy bed below, as comfortable as he
had been on top, not a strap strained or a box shifted in the least. The
bed here was dry. Robinson rode on ahead and shortly found two fine
large ponds under a hill which ended abruptly over them. On our side a
few low ridges ran to meet it, thus forming a kind of pass. Here we
outspanned; it was a splendid place. Carmichael and Robinson caught a
great quantity of fish with hook and line. I called these Middleton's
Pass and Fish Ponds. The country all round was open, grassy, and fit for
stock. The next day we got plenty more fish; they were a species of
perch, the largest one caught weighed, I dare say, three pounds; they
had a great resemblance to Murray cod, which is a species of perch. I
saw from the hill overhanging the water that the creek trended
south-east. Going in that direction we did not, however, meet it; so
turning more easterly, we sighted some pointed hills, and found the
creek went between them, forming another pass, where there was another
water-hole under the rocks. This, no doubt, had been of large
dimensions, but was now gradually getting filled with sand; there was,
however, a considerable quantity of water, and it was literally alive
with fish, insomuch that the water had a disagreeable and fishy taste.
Great numbers of the dead fish were floating upon the water. Here we met
a considerable number of natives, and although the women would not come
close, several of the men did, and made themselves useful by holding
some of the horses' bridles and getting firewood. Most of them had names
given them by their godfathers at their baptism, that is to say, either
by the officers or men of the Overland Telegraph Construction parties.
This was my thirty-second camp; I called it Rogers's Pass; twenty-two
miles was our day's stage. From here two conspicuous semi-conical hills,
or as I should say, truncated cones, of almost identical appearance,
caught my attention; they bore nearly south 60&deg; east.

<h5><a name="i11">ILLUSTRATION 11</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t11.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>JUNCTION OF THE PALMER AND FINKE.</h5>

<p>Bidding adieu to our sable friends, who had had breakfast with us and
again made themselves useful, we started for the twins. To the south of
them was a range of some length; of this the twins formed a part. I
called it Seymour's Range, and a conic hill at its western end Mount
Ormerod. We passed the twins in eleven miles, and found some water in
the creek near a peculiar red sandstone hill, Mount Quin; the general
course of the creek was south 70&deg; east. Seymour's Range, together
with Mounts Quin and Ormerod, had a series of watermarks in horizontal
lines along their face, similar to Johnston's Range, seen when first
starting, the two ranges lying east and west of one another; the
latter-named range we were again rapidly approaching. Not far from Mount
Quin I found some clay water-holes in a lateral channel. The creek now
ran nearly east, and having taken my latitude this morning by Aldeberan,
I was sure of what I anticipated, namely, that I was running down the
creek I had called Number 2. It was one that joined the Finke at my
outgoing Number 2 camp. We found a water-hole to-day, fenced in by the
natives. There was a low range to the south-west, and a tent-shaped hill
more easterly. We rested the horses at the fenced-in water-hole. I
walked to the top of the tent hill, and saw the creek went through
another pass to the north-east. In the afternoon I rode over to this
pass and found some ponds of water on this side of it. A bullock whose
tracks I had seen further up the creek had got bogged here. We next
travelled through the pass, which I called Briscoe's Pass, the creek now
turning up nearly north-east; in six miles further it ran under a hill,
which I well remembered in going out; at thirteen miles from the camp it
ended in the broader bosom of the Finke, where there was a fine
water-hole at the junction, in the bed of the smaller creek, which was
called the Palmer. The Finke now appeared very different to when we
passed up. It then had a stream of water running along its channel, but
was now almost dry, except that water appeared at intervals upon the
surface of the white and sandy bed, which, however, was generally either
salty or bitter; others, again, were drinkable enough. Upon reaching the
river we camped.

<p>My expedition was over. I had failed certainly in my object, which
was to penetrate to the sources of the Murchison River, but not through
any fault of mine, as I think any impartial reader will admit. Our
outgoing tracks were very indistinct, but yet recognisable; we camped
again at Number 1. Our next line was nearly east, along the course of
the Finke, passing a few miles south of Chambers's Pillar. I had left it
but twelve weeks and four days; during that interval I had traversed and
laid down over a thousand miles of previously totally unknown country.
Had I been fortunate enough to have fallen upon a good or even a fair
line of country, the distance I actually travelled would have taken me
across the continent.

<p>I may here make a few remarks upon the Finke. It is usually called a
river, although its water does not always show upon the surface.
Overlanders, i.e. parties travelling up or down the road along the South
Australian Trans-Continental Telegraph line, where the water does show
on the surface, call them springs. The water is always running
underneath the sand, but in certain places it becomes impregnated with
mineral and salty formations, which gives the water a disagreeable
taste. This peculiar drain no doubt rises in the western portions of the
McDonnell Range, not far from where I traced it to, and runs for over
500 miles straight in a general south-westerly direction, finally
entering the northern end of Lake Eyre. It drains an enormous area of
Central South Australia, and on the parallels of 24, 25, 26&deg; of
south latitude, no other stream exists between it and the Murchison or
the Ashburton, a distance in either case of nearly 1,100 miles, and thus
it will be seen it is the only Central Australian river.

<p>On the 21st of November we reached the telegraph line at the junction
of the Finke and the Hugh. The weather during this month, and almost to
its close, was much cooler than the preceding one. The horses were
divided between us&mdash;Robinson getting six, Carmichael four, and I
five. Carmichael and Robinson went down the country, in company, in
advance of me, as fast as they could. I travelled more slowly by myself.
One night, when near what is called the Horse-shoe bend of the Finke, I
had turned out my horses, and as it seemed inclined to rain, was
erecting a small tent, and on looking round for the tomahawk to drive a
stake into the ground, was surprised to notice a very handsome little
black boy, about nine or ten years old, quite close to me. I patted him
on the head, whereupon he smiled very sweetly, and began to talk most
fluently in his own language. I found he interspersed his remarks
frequently with the words Larapinta, white fellow, and yarraman
(horses). He told me two white men, Carmichael and Robinson, and ten
horses, had gone down, and that white fellows, with horses and camel
drays (Gosse's expedition), had just gone up the line. While we were
talking, two smaller boys came up and were patted, and patted me in
return.

<p>The water on the surface here was bitter, and I had not been able to
find any good, but these little imps of iniquity took my tin billy,
scratched a hole in the sand, and immediately procured delicious water;
so I got them to help to water the horses. I asked the elder boy, whom I
christened Tommy, if he would come along with me and the yarramans; of
these they seemed very fond, as they began kissing while helping to
water them. Tommy then found a word or two of English, and said,
&ldquo;You master?&rdquo; The natives always like to know who they are
dealing with, whether a person is a master or a servant. I replied,
&ldquo;Yes, mine master.&rdquo; He then said, &ldquo;Mine (him) ridem
yarraman.&rdquo; &ldquo;Oh, yes.&rdquo; &ldquo;Which one?&rdquo;
&ldquo;That one,&rdquo; said I, pointing to old Cocky, and said,
&ldquo;That's Cocky.&rdquo; Then the boy went up to the horse, and said,
&ldquo;Cocky, you ridem me?&rdquo; Turning to me, he said, &ldquo;All
right, master, you and me Burr-r-r-r-r.&rdquo; I was very well pleased
to think I should get such a nice little fellow so easily. It was now
near evening, and knowing that these youngsters couldn't possibly be
very far from their fathers or mothers, I asked, &ldquo;Where black
fellow?&rdquo; Tommy said, quite nonchalantly, &ldquo;Black fellow come
up!&rdquo; and presently I heard voices, and saw a whole host of men,
women, and children. Then these three boys set up a long squeaky
harangue to the others, and three or four men and five or six boys came
running up to me. One was a middle-aged, good-looking man; with him were
two boys, and Tommy gave me to understand that these were his father and
brothers. The father drew Tommy towards him, and ranged his three boys
in a row, and when I looked at them, it was impossible to doubt their
relationship&mdash;they were all three so wonderfully alike. Dozens more
men, boys, and women came round&mdash;some of the girls being
exceedingly pretty. To feed so large a host, would have required all my
horses as well as my stock of rations, so I singled out Tommy, his two
brothers, and the other original little two, at the same time, giving
Tommy's father about half a damper I had already cooked, and told him
that Tommy was my boy. He shook his head slowly, and would not accept
the damper, walking somewhat sorrowfully away. However, I sent it to him
by Tommy, and told him to tell his father he was going with me and the
horses. The damper was taken that time. It did not rain, and the five
youngsters all slept near me, while the tribe encamped a hundred yards
away. I was not quite sure whether to expect an attack from such a
number of natives. I did not feel quite at ease; though these were, so
to say, civilised people, they were known to be great thieves; and I
never went out of sight of my belongings, as in many cases the more
civilised they are, the more villainous they may be. In the morning
Tommy's father seemed to have thought better of my proposal, thinking
probably it was a good thing for one of his boys to have a white master.
I may say nearly all the civilised youngsters, and a good many old ones
too, like to get work, regular rations, and tobacco, from the cattle or
telegraph stations, which of course do employ a good many. When one of
these is tired of his work, he has to bring up a substitute and inform
his employer, and thus a continual change goes on. The boys brought up
the horses, and breakfast being eaten, the father led Tommy up to me and
put his little hand in mine; at the same time giving me a small piece of
stick, and pretending to thrash him; represented to me that, if he
didn't behave himself, I was to thrash him. I gave the old fellow some
old clothes (Tommy I had already dressed up), also some flour, tea, and
sugar, and lifted the child on to old Cocky's saddle, which had a valise
in front, with two straps for the monkey to cling on by. A dozen or two
youngsters now also wanted to come on foot. I pretended to be very
angry, and Tommy must have said something that induced them to remain. I
led the horse the boy was riding, and had to drive the other three in
front of me. When we departed, the natives gave us some howls or cheers,
and finally we got out of their reach. The boy seemed quite delighted
with his new situation, and talked away at a great rate. As soon as we
reached the road, by some extraordinary chance, all my stock of wax
matches, carried by Badger, caught alight; a perfect volcano ensued, and
the novel sight of a pack-horse on fire occurred. This sent him mad, and
away he and the two other pack-horses flew down the road, over the
sandhills, and were out of sight in no time. I told the boy to cling on
as I started to gallop after them. He did so for a bit, but slipping on
one side, Cocky gave a buck, and sent Tommy flying into some stumps of
timber cut down for the passage of the telegraph line, and the boy fell
on a stump and broke his arm near the shoulder. I tied my horse up and
went to help the child, who screamed and bit at me, and said something
about his people killing me. Every time I tried to touch or pacify him
it was the same. I did not know what to do, the horses were miles away.
I decided to leave the boy where he was, go after the horses, and then
return with them to my last night's camp, and give the boy back to his
father. When he saw me mount, he howled and yelled, but I gave him to
understand what I was going to do and he lay down and cried. I was full
of pity for the poor little creature, and I only left him to return. I
started away, and not until I had been at full gallop for an hour did I
sight the runaway horses. Cocky got away when the accident occurred, and
galloped after and found the others, and his advent evidently set them
off a second time. Returning to the boy, I saw some smoke, and on
approaching close, found a young black fellow also there. He had bound
up the child's arm with leaves, and wrapped it up with bits of bark; and
when I came he damped it with water from my bag. I then suggested to
these two to return; but oh no, the new chap was evidently bound to seek
his fortune in London&mdash;that is to say, at the Charlotte Waters
Station&mdash;and he merely remarked, &ldquo;You, mine, boy,
Burr-r-r-r-r, white fellow wurley;&rdquo; he also said, &ldquo;Mine,
boy, walk, you, yarraman&mdash;mine, boy, sleep you wurley, you
Burr-r-r-r-r yarraman.&rdquo; All this meant that they would walk and I
might ride, and that they would camp with me at night. Off I went and
left them, as I had a good way to go. I rode and they walked to the
Charlotte. I got the little boy regular meals at the station; but his
arm was still bad, and I don't know if it ever got right. I never saw
him again.

<p>At the Charlotte Waters I met Colonel Warburton and his son; they
were going into the regions I had just returned from. I gave them all
the information they asked, and showed them my map; but they and Gosse's
expedition went further up the line to the Alice springs, in the
McDonnell Ranges, for a starting-point. I was very kindly received here
again, and remained a few days. My old horse Cocky had got bad again, in
consequence of his galloping with the packhorses, and I left him behind
me at the Charlotte, in charge of Mr. Johnston. On arrival at the Peake,
I found that Mr. Bagot had broken his collar-bone by a fall from a
horse. I drove him to the Blinman Mine, where we took the coach for
Adelaide. At Beltana, before we reached the Blinman Mine, I heard that
my former black boy Dick was in that neighbourhood, and Mr. Chandler,
whom I had met at the Charlotte Waters, and who was now stationed here,
promised to get and keep him for me until I either came or sent for him:
this he did. And thus ends the first book of my explorations.

<hr>

<h5><a name="m2">Map 2</a></h5>
<h5>Second Expedition, 1873-4.</h5>

<h4><a name="book2">BOOK 2.</a></h4>

<h5>NOTE TO THE SECOND EXPEDITION.</h5>

<p>In a former part of my narrative I mentioned, that so soon as I had
informed my kind friend Baron von Mueller by wire from the Charlotte
Waters Telegraph Station, of the failure and break up of my expedition,
he set to work and obtained a new fund for me to continue my labours.
Although the greatest despatch was used, and the money quickly obtained,
yet it required some months before I could again depart. I reached
Adelaide late in January, 1873, and as soon as funds were available I
set to work at the organisation of a new expedition. I obtained the
services of a young friend named William Henry Tietkins&mdash;who came
over from Melbourne to join me&mdash;and we got a young fellow named
James Andrews, or Jimmy as we always called him. I bought a light
four-wheeled trap and several horses, and we left Adelaide early in
March, 1873. We drove up the country by way of the Burra mines to Port
Augusta at the head of Spencer's Gulf, buying horses as we went; and
having some pack saddles on the wagon, these we put on our new purchases
as we got them.

<p>Before I left Adelaide I had instructed Messrs. Tassie &amp; Co., of
Port Augusta, to forward certain stores required for our journey, which
loading had already been despatched by teams to the Peake. We made a
leisurely journey up the country, as it was of no use to overtake our
stores. At Beltana Mr. Chandler had got and kept my black boy Dick, who
pretended to be overjoyed to see me, and perhaps he really was; but he
was extra effusive in his affection, and now declared he had been a
silly young fool, that he didn't care for wild blacks now a bit, and
would go with me anywhere. When Mr. Chandler got him he was half
starved, living in a blacks' camp, and had scarcely any clothes. Leaving
Beltana, in a few days we passed the Finniss Springs Station, and one of
the people there made all sorts of overtures to Dick, who was now
dressed in good clothes, and having had some good living lately, had got
into pretty good condition; some promises must have been made him, as
when we reached the Gregory, he bolted away, and I never saw him
afterwards.

<p>The Gregory was now running, and by simply dipping out a bucketful of
water, several dozens of minnows could be caught. In this way we got
plenty of them, and frying them in butter, just as they were, they
proved the most delicious food it was possible to eat, equal, if not
superior, to whitebait. Nothing of a very interesting nature occurred
during our journey up to the Peake, where we were welcomed by the
Messrs. Bagot at the Cattle Station, and Mr. Blood of the Telegraph
Department. Here we fixed up all our packs, sold Mr. Bagot the wagon,
and bought horses and other things; we had now twenty packhorses and
four riding ditto. Here a short young man accosted me, and asked me if I
did not remember him, saying at the same time that he was
&ldquo;Alf.&rdquo; I fancied I knew his face, but thought it was at the
Peake that I had seen him, but he said, &ldquo;Oh no, don't you remember
Alf with Bagot's sheep at the north-west bend of the Murray? my name's
Alf Gibson, and I want to go out with you.&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;Well,
can you shoe? can you ride? can you starve? can you go without water?
and how would you like to be speared by the blacks outside?&rdquo; He
said he could do everything I had mentioned, and he wasn't afraid of the
blacks. He was not a man I would have picked out of a mob, but men were
scarce, and as he seemed so anxious to come, and as I wanted somebody, I
agreed to take him. We got all our horses shod, and two extra sets of
shoes fitted for each, marked, and packed away. I had a little
black-and-tan terrier dog called Cocky, and Gibson had a little pup of
the same breed, which he was so anxious to take that at last I permitted
him to do so.

<p>Our horses' loads were very heavy at starting, the greater number of
the horses carrying 200 pounds. The animals were not in very good
condition; I got the horse I had formerly left here, Badger, the one
whose pack had been on fire at the end of my last trip. I had decided to
make a start upon this expedition from a place known as Ross's
Water-hole in the Alberga Creek, at its junction with the Stevenson, the
Alberga being one of the principal tributaries of the Finke. The
position of Ross's Water-hole is in latitude 27&deg; 8&acute; and
longitude 135&deg; 45&acute;, it lying 120 to 130 miles in latitude more
to the south than the Mount Olga of my first journey, which was a point
I was most desirous to reach. Having tried without success to reach it
from the north, I now intended to try from a more southerly line. Ross's
Water-hole is called ninety miles from the Peake, and we arrived there
without any difficulty. The nights now were exceedingly cold, as it was
near the end of July. When we arrived I left the others in camp and rode
myself to the Charlotte Waters, expecting to get my old horse Cocky, and
load him with 200 pounds of flour; but when I arrived there, the creek
water-hole was dry, and all the horses running loose on the Finke. I got
two black boys to go out and try to get the horse, but on foot in the
first place they could never have done it, and in the second place, when
they returned, they said they could not find him at all. I sent others,
but to no purpose, and eventually had to leave the place without getting
him, and returned empty-handed to the depot, having had my journey and
lost my time for nothing.

<p>There was but poor feed at the water-hole, every teamster and
traveller always camping there. Some few natives appeared at the camp,
and brought some boys and girls. An old man said he could get me a
flour-bag full of salt up the creek, so I despatched him for it; he
brought back a little bit of dirty salty gravel in one hand, and
expected a lot of flour, tea, sugar, meat, tobacco, and clothes for it;
but I considered my future probable requirements, and refrained from too
much generosity. A nice little boy called Albert agreed to come with us,
but the old man would not allow him&mdash;I suppose on account of the
poor reward he got for his salt. A young black fellow here said he had
found a white man's musket a long way up the creek, and that he had got
it in his wurley, and would give it to me for flour, tea, sugar,
tobacco, matches, and clothes. I only promised flour, and away he went
to get the weapon. Next day he returned, and before reaching the camp
began to yell, &ldquo;White fellow mukkety, white fellow mukkety.&rdquo;
I could see he had no such thing in his hands, but when he arrived he
unfolded a piece of dirty old pocket handkerchief, from which he
produced&mdash;what? an old discharged copper revolver cartridge. His
reward was commensurate with his prize.

<p>The expedition consisted of four members&mdash;namely, myself, Mr.
William Henry Tietkins, Alfred Gibson, and James Andrews, with
twenty-four horses and two little dogs. On Friday, the 1st of August,
1873, we were prepared to start, but rain stopped us; again on Sunday
some more fell. We finally left the encampment on the morning of Monday,
the 4th.

<hr>

<h4><a name="ch2.1">CHAPTER 2.1. FROM THE 4TH TO THE 22ND AUGUST, 1873.</a></h4>
<blockquote>
Leave for the west.
Ascend the Alberga.
An old building.
Rain, thunder, and lightning.
Leave Alberga for the north-west.
Drenched in the night.
Two lords of the soil.
Get their cong&eacute;.
Water-holes.
Pretty amphitheatre.
Scrubs on either side.
Watering the horses.
A row of saplings.
Spinifex and poplars.
Dig a tank.
Hot wind.
A broken limb.
Higher hills.
Flat-topped hills.
Singular cones.
Better country.
A horse staked.
Bluff-faced hills.
The Anthony Range.
Cool nights.
Tent-shaped hills.
Fantastic mounds.
Romantic valley.
Picturesque scene.
A gum creek.
Beautiful country.
Gusts of fragrance.
New and independent hills.
Large creek.
Native well.
Jimmy's report.
The Krichauff.
Cold nights.
Shooting blacks.
Labor omnia vincit.
Thermometer 28&deg;.
Dense scrubs.
Small creek.
Native pheasant's nest.
Beautiful open ground.
Charming view.
Rocks piled on rocks.
</blockquote>
<p>On Monday, the 4th August, 1873, my new expedition, under very
favourable circumstances, started from Ross's Water-hole in the Alberga.
The country through which the Alberga here runs is mostly open and
stony, but good country for stock of all kinds. The road and the
telegraph line are here thirteen miles apart. At that distance up the
creek, nearly west, we reached it. The frame of an old building was
convenient for turning into a house, with a tarpaulin for a roof, as
there appeared a likelihood of more rain. Some water was got in a
clay-pan in the neighbourhood.

<p>A misty and cloudy morning warned us to keep under canvas: rain fell
at intervals during the day, and at sundown heavy thunder and bright
lightning came from the north-west, with a closing good smart shower.
The next morning was fine and clear, though the night had been extremely
cold. The bed of this creek proved broad but ill-defined, and cut up
into numerous channels. Farther along the creek a more scrubby region
was found; the soil was soft after the rain, but no water was seen lying
about. The creek seemed to be getting smaller; I did not like its
appearance very much, so struck away north-west. The country now was all
thick mulga scrub and grassy sandhills; amongst these we found a
clay-pan with some water in it. At night we were still in the scrub,
without water, but we were not destined to leave it without any, for at
ten o'clock a thunderstorm from the north-west came up, and before we
could get half our things under canvas, we were thoroughly drenched. Off
our tarpaulins we obtained plenty of water for breakfast; but the ground
would not retain any. Sixteen miles farther along we came down out of
the sandhills on to a creek where we found water, and camped, but the
grass was very poor, dry, and innutritious. More rain threatened, but
the night was dry, and the morning clear and beautiful. This creek was
the Hamilton. Two of its native lords visited the camp this morning, and
did not appear at all inclined to leave it. The creek is here broad and
sandy: the timber is small and stunted. Towards evening the two
Hamiltonians put on airs of great impudence, and became very
objectionable; two or three times I had to resist their encroachments
into the camp, and at last they greatly annoyed me. I couldn't quite
make out what they said to one another; but I gathered they expected
more of their tribe, and were anxiously looking out for them in all
directions. Finally, as our guns wanted discharging and cleaning after
the late showers, we fired them off, and so soon as the natives saw us
first handle and then discharge them, off they went, and returned to
Balclutha no more.

<h5><a name="i12">ILLUSTRATION 12</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t12.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>AN INCIDENT OF TRAVEL.</h5>

<p>Going farther up the creek, we met some small tributaries with fine
little water-holes. Some ridges now approached the creek; from the top
of one many sheets of water glittered in stony clay-pans. More westerly
the creek ran under a hill. Crossing another tributary where there was
plenty of water, we next saw a large clay-hole in the main
creek&mdash;it was, however, dry. When there was some water in it, the
natives had fenced it round to catch any large game that might come to
drink; at present they were saved the trouble, for game and water had
both alike departed. Mr. Tietkens, my lieutenant and second in command,
found a very pretty amphitheatre formed by the hills; we encamped there,
at some clay-pans; the grass, however, was very poor; scrubs appeared on
the other side of the creek. A junction with another creek occurred near
here, beyond which the channel was broad, flat, sandy, and covered
indiscriminately with timber; scrubs existed on either bank. We had to
cross and recross the bed as the best road. We found a place in it where
the natives had dug, and where we got water, but the supply was very
unsatisfactory, an enormous quantity of sand having to be shifted before
the most willing horse could get down to it. We succeeded at length with
the aid of canvas buckets, and by the time the whole twenty four were
satisfied, we were also. The grass was dry as usual, but the horses ate
it, probably because there is no other for them. Our course to-day was
8&deg; south of west. Close to where we encamped were three or four
saplings placed in a row in the bed of the creek, and a diminutive
tent-frame, as though some one, if not done by native children, had been
playing at erecting a miniature telegraph line. I did not like this
creek much more than the Alberga, and decided to try the country still
farther north-west. This we did, passing through somewhat thick scrubs
for eighteen miles, when we came full upon the creek again, and here for
the first time since we started we noticed some bunches of spinifex, the
Festuca irritans, and some native poplar trees. These have a straight
stem, and are in outline somewhat like a pine-tree, but the foliage is
of a fainter green, and different-shaped leaf. They are very pretty to
the eye, but generally inhabit the very poorest regions; the botanical
name of this tree is Codonocarpus cotinifolius. At five miles farther we
dug in the bed of the creek, but only our riding-horses could be watered
by night. White pipeclay existed on the bed. The weather was oppressive
to-day. Here my latitude was 26&deg; 27&acute;, longitude 134&deg;. It
took all next day to water the horses. Thermometer 92&deg; in shade, hot
wind blowing. The dead limb of a tree, to which we fixed our tarpaulin
as an awning for shade, slipped down while we were at dinner; it first
fell on the head of Jimmy Andrews, which broke it in half; it also fell
across my back, tearing my waistcoat, shirt, and skin; but as it only
fell on Jimmy's head of course it couldn't hurt him. The country still
scrubby on both sides: we now travelled about north-north-west, and
reached a low stony rise in the scrubs, and from it saw the creek
stretching away towards some other ridges nearly on the line we were
travelling. We skirted the creek, and in eleven miles we saw other hills
of greater elevation than any we had yet seen.

<p>Reaching the first ridge, we got water by digging a few inches into
the pipeclay bed of the creek; a more extended view was here obtained,
and ranges appeared from west, round by north-west, to north; there were
many flat-topped hills and several singular cones, and the country
appeared more open. I was much pleased to think I had distanced the
scrubs. One cone in the new range bore north 52&deg; west, and for some
distance the creek trended that way. On reaching the foot of the new
hills, I found the creek had greatly altered its appearance, if indeed
it was the same. It is possible the main creek may have turned more to
the west, and that this is only a tributary, but as we found some
surface water in a clay-hole, we liked it better than having to dig in a
larger channel. Here for the first time for many weeks we came upon some
green grass, which the horses greedily devoured. The country here is
much better and more open. On mustering the horses this morning, one was
found to be dead lame, with a mulga stake in his coronet, and as he
could not travel we were forced to remain at the camp; at least the camp
was not shifted. This horse was called Trew; he was one of the best in
the mob, though then I had not found out all his good qualities&mdash;he
now simply carried a pack. Mr. Tietkens and I mounted our horses and
rode farther up the creek. The channel had partly recovered its
appearance, and it may be our old one after all. Above the camp its
course was nearly north, and a line of low bluff-faced hills formed its
eastern bank. The country towards the new ranges looked open and
inviting, and we rode to a prominent cone in it, to the west-north-west.
The country was excellent, being open and grassy, and having fine cotton
and salt bush flats all over it: there was surface water in clay-pans
lying about. I called this the Anthony Range. We returned much pleased
with our day's ride.

<p>The nights were now agreeably cool, sometimes very dewy. The lame
horse was still very bad, but we lightened his load, and after the first
mile he travelled pretty well. We steered for the singular cone in
advance. Most of the hills, however, of the Anthony Range were
flat-topped, though many tent-shaped ones exist also. I ascended the
cone in ten miles, west of north-west from camp. The view displayed
hills for miles in all directions, amongst which were many bare rocks of
red colour heaped into the most fantastically tossed mounds imaginable,
with here and there an odd shrub growing from the interstices of the
rocks; some small miniature creeks, with only myal and mulga growing in
them, ran through the valleys&mdash;all of these had recently been
running. We camped a mile or two beyond the cone in an extremely pretty
and romantic valley; the grass was green, and Nature appeared in one of
her smiling moods, throwing a gleam of sunshine on the minds of the
adventurers who had sought her in one of her wilderness recesses. The
only miserable creature in our party was the lame horse, but now indeed
he had a mate in misfortune, for we found that another horse, Giant
Despair, had staked himself during our day's march, though he did not
appear lame until we stopped, and his hobbles were about to be put on.
Mr. Tietkens extracted a long mulga stick from his fetlock: neither of
the two staked horses ever became sound again, although they worked well
enough. In the night, or rather by morning (daylight), the thermometer
had fallen to 30&deg;, and though there was a heavy dew there was
neither frost nor ice.

<p>We now passed up to the head of the picturesque valley, and from
there wound round some of the mounds of bare rocks previously mentioned.
They are composed of a kind of a red conglomerate granite. We turned in
and out amongst the hills till we arrived at the banks of a small creek
lined with eucalyptus or gum-trees, and finding some water we encamped
on a piece of beautiful-looking country, splendidly grassed and
ornamented with the fantastic mounds, and the creek timber as back and
fore grounds for the picture. Small birds twittered on each bough, sang
their little songs of love or hate, and gleefully fled or pursued each
other from tree to tree. The atmosphere seemed cleared of all grossness
or impurities, a few sunlit clouds floated in space, and a perfume from
Nature's own laboratory was exhaled from the flowers and vegetation
around. It might well be said that here were

<p class="poem">&ldquo;Gusts of fragrance on the grasses,
<br>In the skies a softened splendour; 
<br>Through the copse and woodland passes
<br>Songs of birds in cadence tender.&rdquo;

<p>The country was so agreeable here we had no desire to traverse it at
railway speed; it was delightful to loll and lie upon the land, in
abandoned languishment beneath the solar ray. Thirty or forty miles
farther away, west-north-westward, other and independent hills or ranges
stood, though I was grieved to remark that the intermediate region
seemed entirely filled with scrub. How soon the scenery changes!
Travelling now for the new hills, we soon entered scrubs, where some
plots of the dreaded triodia were avoided. In the scrubs, at ten miles
we came upon the banks of a large gum-timbered creek, whose trees were
fine and vigorous. In the bed we found a native well, with water at no
great depth; the course of this creek where we struck it, was
south-south-east, and we travelled along its banks in an opposite, that
is to say, north-north-west direction. That line, however, took us
immediately into the thick scrubs, so at four miles on this bearing I
climbed a tree, and saw that I must turn north to cut it again; this I
did, and in three miles we came at right angles upon a creek which I
felt sure was not the one we had left, the scrub being so thick one
could hardly see a yard ahead. Here I sent Jimmy Andrews up a tree;
having been a sailor boy, he is well skilled in that kind of
performance, but I am not. I told him to discover the whereabouts of the
main creek, and say how far off it appeared. That brilliant genius
informed me that it lay across the course we were steering, north, and
it was only a mile away; so we went on to it, as we supposed, but having
gone more than two miles and not reaching it, I asked Jimmy whether he
had not made some mistake. I said, &ldquo;We have already come two
miles, and you said it was scarcely one.&rdquo; He then kindly informed
me that I was going all wrong, and ought not to go that way at all; but
upon my questioning him as to which way I should go he replied,
&ldquo;Oh, I don't know <i>now</i>.&rdquo; My only plan was to turn
east, when we soon struck the creek. Then Jimmy declared if we had
<i>kept north long enough</i>, we would have come to it <i>agin</i>.

<p>Though Jimmy was certainly a bit of a fool, he was not perhaps quite
a fool of the greatest size. Little fools and young fools somehow seem
to pass muster in this peculiar world, but to be old and a fool is a
mistake which is difficult, if not impossible, to remedy. It was too
late to go any farther; we couldn't get any water, but we had to camp. I
intended to return in the morning to where we first struck this creek,
and where we saw water in the native well. I called this the Krichauff.
The mercury went down to 28&deg; by daylight the next morning, but
neither ice nor frost appeared. This morning Mr. Tietkens, when out
after the horses, found a rather deep native well some distance up the
creek, and we shifted the camp to it. On the way there I was behind the
party, and before I overtook them I heard the report of firearms. On
reaching the horses, Jimmy Andrews had his revolver in his hand, Mr.
Tietkens and Gibson being away. On inquiring of Jimmy the cause of the
reports and the reason of his having his revolver in his hand, he
replied that he thought Mr. Tietkens was shooting the blacks, and he had
determined to slaughter his share if they attacked him. Mr. Tietkens had
fired at some wallabies, which, however, did not appear at dinner. On
arrival at the new well, we had a vast amount of work to perform, and
only three or four horses got water by night.

<p>I told Mr. Tietkens not to work himself to death, as I would retreat
in the morning to where there was water, but he persisted in working
away by himself in the night, and was actually able to water all the
horses in the morning. Labor omnia vincit. Last night there was a heavy
fall of dew, thermometer 28&deg;, but no frost or ice. I was delighted
to turn my back upon this wretched place.

<p>The object of our present line was to reach the new hills seen from
the Anthony Range. Three of them appeared higher than, and isolated
from, the others. They now bore west of us&mdash;at least they should
have done so, and I hoped they did, for in such thick scrubs it was
quite impossible to see them. No matter for that, we steered west for
them and traversed a region of dense scrubs. I was compelled to ride in
advance with a bell on my stirrup to enable the others to hear which way
to come. In seventeen miles we struck a small gum creek without water,
but there was good herbage. In the scrubs to-day we saw a native
pheasant's nest, the Leipoa ocellata of Gould, but there were no eggs in
it. This bird is known by different names in different parts of
Australia. On the eastern half of the continent it is usually called the
Lowan, while in Western Australia it is known as the Gnow; both I
believe are native names. Another cold night, thermometer 26&deg;, with
a slight hoar frost. Moving on still west through scrubs, but not so
thick as yesterday, some beautiful and open ground was met till we
reached the foot of some low ridges.

<p>From the top of one of these, we had before us a most charming view,
red ridges of extraordinary shapes and appearance being tossed up in all
directions, with the slopes of the soil, from whence they seemed to
spring, rising gently, and with verdure clad in a garment of grass whose
skirts were fringed with flowers to their feet. These slopes were
beautifully bedecked with flowers of the most varied hues, throwing a
magic charm over the entire scene. Vast bare red

<p class="poem">&ldquo;Rocks piled on rocks stupendous hurled,
<br>Like fragments of an earlier world,&rdquo;

<p>appeared everywhere, but the main tier of ranges for which I had been
steering was still several miles farther away to the west. Thinking that
water, the scarcest here of Nature's gifts, must surely exist in such a
lovely region as this, it was more with the keen and critical eye of the
explorer in search of that element, than of the admirer of Nature in her
wildest grace, that I surveyed the scene. A small gum creek lay to the
south, to which Mr. Tietkens went. I sent Gibson to a spot about two
miles off to the west, as straight before us in that direction lay a
huge mass of rocks and bare slabs of stone, which might have rock
reservoirs amongst them. To the north lay a longer jumble of hills, with
overhanging ledges and bare precipices, which I undertook to search,
leaving Jimmy to mind the horses until some of us returned. Neither Mr.
Tietkens nor Gibson could find any water, and I was returning quite
disappointed, after wandering over hills and rocks, through gullies and
under ledges, when at length I espied a small and very fertile little
glen whose brighter green attracted my notice. Here a small gully came
down between two hills, and in the bed of the little channel I saw a
patch of blacker soil, and on reaching it I found a small but deep
native well with a little water at the bottom. It was an extraordinary
little spot, and being funnel shaped, I doubted whether any animal but a
bird or a black man could get down to it, and I also expected it would
prove a hideous bog; but my little friend (W.A.) seemed so determined to
test its nature, and though it was nearly four feet to the water, he
quietly let his forefeet slip down into it, and though his hindquarters
were high and dry above his head he got a good drink, which he told me
in his language he was very thankful for. I brought the whole party to
the spot, and we had immediately to set to work to enlarge the well. We
found the water supply by no means abundant, as, though we all worked
hard at it in turns with the shovel, it did not drain in as fast as one
horse could drink; but by making a large hole, we expected sufficient
would drain in during the night for the remainder of the horses. We did
not cease from our work until it was quite dark, when we retired to our
encampment, quite sufficiently tired to make us sleep without the aid of
any lullaby.

<hr>

<h4><a name="ch2.2">CHAPTER 2.2. FROM 22ND AUGUST TO 10TH SEPTEMBER, 1873.</a></h4>
<blockquote>
A poor water supply.
Seeds planted.
Beautiful country.
Ride westward.
A chopped log.
Magnetic hill.
Singular scenery.
Snail-shells.
Cheering prospect westward.
A new chain of hills.
A nearer mountain.
Vistas of green.
Gibson finds water.
Turtle backs.
Ornamented Troglodytes' caves.
Water and emus.
Beef-wood-trees.
Grassy lawns.
Gum creek.
Purple vetch.
Cold dewy night.
Jumbled turtle backs.
Tietkens returns.
I proceed.
Two-storied native huts.
Chinese doctrine.
A wonderful mountain.
Elegant trees.
Extraordinary ridge.
A garden.
Nature imitates her imitator.
Wild and strange view.
Pool of water.
A lonely camp.
Between sleeping and waking.
Extract from Byron for breakfast.
Return for the party.
Emus and water.
Arrival of Tietkens.
A good camp.
Tietkens's birthday creek.
Ascend the mountain.
No signs of water.
Gill's range.
Flat-topped hill.
The Everard range.
High mounts westward.
Snail shells.
Altitude of the mountain.
Pretty scenes.
Parrot soup.
The sentinel.
Thermometer 26&deg;.
Frost.
Lunar rainbow.
A charming spot.
A pool of water.
Cones of the main range.
A new pass.
Dreams realised.
A long glen.
Glen Ferdinand.
Mount Ferdinand.
The Reid.
Large creek.
Disturb a native nation.
Spears hurled.
A regular attack.
Repulse and return of the enemy.
Their appearance.
Encounter Creek.
Mount Officer.
The Currie.
The Levinger.
Excellent country.
Horse-play.
Mount Davenport.
Small gap.
A fairy space.
The Fairies' Glen.
Day dreams.
Thermometer 24&deg;.
Ice.
Mount Oberon.
Titania's spring.
Horses bewitched.
Glen Watson.
Mount Olga in view.
The Musgrave range.
</blockquote>
<p>Upon inspection this morning we found but a poor supply of water had
drained into our tank in the night, and that there was by no means
sufficient for the remaining horses; these had no water yesterday. We
passed the forenoon in still enlarging the tank, and as soon as a
bucketful drained in, it was given to one of the horses. We planted the
seeds of a lot of vegetables and trees here, such as Tasmanian blue gum,
wattle, melons, pumpkins, cucumbers, maize, etc.; and then Mr. Tietkens
and I got our horses and rode to the main hills to the west, in hopes of
discovering more water. We started late, and it was dark when we reached
the range. The country passed over between it and our encampment, was
exceedingly beautiful; hills being thrown up in red ridges of bare rock,
with the native fig-tree growing among the rocks, festooning them into
infinite groups of beauty, while the ground upon which we rode was a
perfect carpet of verdure. We were therefore in high anticipation of
finding some waters equivalent to the scene; but as night was advancing,
our search had to be delayed until the morrow. The dew was falling fast,
the night air was cool, and deliciously laden with the scented
exhalations from trees and shrubs and flowers. The odour of almonds was
intense, reminding me of the perfumes of the wattle blooms of the
southern, eastern, and more fertile portions of this continent. So
exquisite was the aroma, that I recalled to my mind Gordon's beautiful
lines:&mdash;

<p class="poem">&ldquo;In the spring when the wattle gold trembles,
<br>Twixt shadow and shine,
<br>When each dew-laden air draught resembles; 
<br>A long draught of wine.&rdquo;

<p>So delightful indeed was the evening that it was late when we gave
ourselves up to the oblivion of slumber, beneath the cool and starry
sky. We made a fire against a log about eighteen inches thick; this was
a limb from an adjacent blood-wood or red gum-tree, and this morning we
discovered that it had been chopped off its parent stem either with an
axe or tomahawk, and carried some forty or fifty yards from where it had
originally fallen. This seemed very strange; in the first place for
natives, so far out from civilisation as this, to have axes or
tomahawks; and in the second place, to chop logs or boughs off a tree
was totally against their practice. By sunrise we were upon the summit
of the mountain; it consisted of enormous blocks and boulders of red
granite, so riven and fissured that no water could possibly lodge upon
it for an instant. I found it also to be highly magnetic, there being a
great deal of ironstone about the rocks. It turned the compass needle
from its true north point to 10&deg; south of west, but the attraction
ceased when the compass was removed four feet from contact with the
rocks. The view from this mount was of singular and almost awful beauty.
The mount, and all the others connected with it, rose simply like
islands out of a vast ocean of scrub. The beauty of the locality lay
entirely within itself. Innumerable red ridges ornamented with
fig-trees, rising out of green and grassy slopes, met the eye everywhere
to the east, north, and northeast, and the country between each was just
sufficiently timbered to add a charm to the view. But the appearance of
water still was wanting; no signs of it, or of any basin or hollow that
could hold it, met the gaze in any direction, This alone was wanting to
turn a wilderness into a garden.

<p>There were four large mounts in this chain, higher than any of the
rest, including the one I was on. Here we saw a quantity of what I at
first thought were white sea-shells, but we found they were the bleached
shells of land snails. Far away to the north some ranges appeared above
the dense ocean of intervening scrubs. To the south, scrubs reigned
supreme; but to the west, the region for which I was bound, the prospect
looked far more cheering. The far horizon, there, was bounded by a very
long and apparently connected chain of considerable elevation, seventy
to eighty miles away. One conspicuous mountain, evidently nearer than
the longer chain, bore 15&deg; to the south of west, while an apparent
gap or notch in the more distant line bore 23&deg; south of west. The
intervening country appeared all flat, and very much more open than in
any other direction; I could discern long vistas of green grass, dotted
with yellow immortelles, but as the perspective declined, these all
became lost in lightly timbered country. These grassy glades were fair
to see, reminding one somewhat of Merrie England's glades and Sherwood
forests green, where errant knight in olden days rode forth in mailed
sheen; and memory oft, the golden rover, recalls the tales of old
romance, how ladie bright unto her lover, some young knight, smitten
with her glance, would point out some heroic labour, some unheard-of
deed of fame; he must carve out with his sabre, and ennoble thus his
name. He, a giant must defeat sure, he must free the land from tain, he
must kill some monstrous creature, or return not till 'twas slain. Then
she'd smile on him victorious, call him the bravest in the land, fame
and her, to win, how glorious&mdash;win and keep her heart and hand!

<p>Although no water was found here, what it pleases me to call my mind
was immediately made up. I would return at once to the camp, where water
was so scarce, and trust all to the newly discovered chain to the west.
Water must surely exist there, we had but to reach it. I named these
mounts Ayers Range. Upon returning to our camp, six or seven miles off,
I saw that a mere dribble of water remained in the tank. Gibson was away
after the horses, and when he brought them, he informed me he had found
another place, with some water lying on the rocks, and two native wells
close by with water in them, much shallower than our present one, and
that they were about three miles away. I rode off with him to inspect
his new discovery, and saw there was sufficient surface water for our
horses for a day or two.

<p>These rocks are most singular, being mostly huge red, rounded solid
blocks of stone, shaped like the backs of enormous turtles. I was much
pleased with Gibson's discovery, and we moved the camp down to this
spot, which we always after called the Turtle Back. The grass and
herbage were excellent, but the horses had not had sufficient water
since we arrived here. It is wonderful how in such a rocky region so
little water appears to exist. The surface water was rather difficult
for the horses to reach, as it lay upon the extreme summit of the rock,
the sides of which were very steep and slippery. There were plenty of
small birds; hawks and crows, a species of cockatoo, some pigeons, and
eagles soaring high above. More seeds were planted here, the soil being
very good. Upon the opposite or eastern side of this rock was a large
ledge or cave, under which the Troglodytes of these realms had
frequently encamped. It was ornamented with many of their rude
representations of creeping things, amongst which the serpent class
predominated; there were also other hideous shapes, of things such as
can exist only in their imaginations, and they are but the weak
endeavours of these benighted beings to give form and semblance to the
symbolisms of the dread superstitions, that, haunting the vacant
chambers of their darkened minds, pass amongst them in the place of
either philosophy or religion.

<p>Next morning, watering all our horses, and having a fine open-air
bath on the top of the Turtle Back, Mr. Tietkens and I got three of them
and again started for Ayers Range, nearly west. Reaching it, we
travelled upon the bearing of the gap which we had seen in the most
distant range. The country as we proceeded we found splendidly open,
beautifully grassed, and it rose occasionally into some low ridges. At
fifteen miles from the Turtle Back we found some clay-pans with water,
where we turned out our horses for an hour. A mob of emus came to
inspect us, and Mr. Tietkens shot one in a fleshy part of the neck,
which rather helped it to run away at full speed instead of detaining,
so that we might capture it. Next some parallel ridges lying north and
south were crossed, where some beefwood, or Grevillea trees, ornamented
the scene, the country again opening into beautiful grassy lawns. One or
two creek channels were crossed, and a larger one farther on, whose
timber indeed would scarcely reach our course; as it would not come to
us, we went to it. The gum-timber upon it was thick and
vigorous&mdash;it came from the north-westward. A quantity of the so
called tea-tree [Melaleuca] grew here. In two miles up the channel we
found where a low ridge crossed and formed a kind of low pass. An old
native well existed here, which, upon cleaning out with a quart pot,
disclosed the element of our search to our view at a depth of nearly
five feet. The natives always make these wells of such an abominable
shape, that of a funnel, never thinking how awkward they must be to
white men with horses&mdash;some people are so unfeeling! It took us a
long time to water our three horses. There was a quantity of the little
purple vetch here, of which all animals are so fond, and which is so
fattening. There was plenty of this herb at the Turtle Back, and
wherever it grows it gives the country a lovely carnation tinge; this,
blending with the bright green of the grass, and the yellow and other
tinted hues of several kinds of flowers, impresses on the whole region
the appearance of a garden.

<p>In the morning, in consequence of a cold and dewy night, the horses
declined to drink. Regaining our yesterday's course, we continued for
ten miles, when we noticed that the nearest mountain seen from Ayers
Range was now not more than thirty miles away. It appeared red, bald,
and of some altitude; to our left was another mass of jumbled turtle
backs, and we turned to search for water among them. A small gum creek
to the south-south-east was first visited and left in disgust, and all
the rocks and hills we searched, were equally destitute of water. We
wasted the rest of the day in fruitless search; Nature seemed to have
made no effort whatever to form any such thing as a rockhole, and we saw
no place where the natives had ever even dug. We had been riding from
morning until night, and we had neither found water nor reached the
mountain. We returned to our last night's camp, where the sand had all
fallen into the well, and we had our last night's performance with the
quart pot to do over again.

<p>In the morning I decided to send Mr. Tietkens back to the camp to
bring the party here, while I went to the mountain to search for water.
We now discovered we had brought but a poor supply of food, and that a
hearty supper would demolish the lot, so we had to be sadly economical.
When we got our horses the next morning we departed, each on his
separate errand&mdash;Mr. Tietkens for the camp, I for the mountain. I
made a straight course for it, and in three or four miles found the
country exceedingly scrubby. At ten miles I came upon a number of native
huts, which were of large dimensions and two-storied; by this I mean
they had an upper attic, or cupboard recess. When the natives return to
these, I suppose they know of some water, or else get it out of the
roots of trees. The scrubs became thicker and thicker, and only at
intervals could the mountain be seen. At a spot where the natives had
burnt the old grass, and where some new rich vegetation grew, I gave my
horse the benefit of an hour's rest, for he had come twenty-two miles.
The day was delightful; the thermometer registered only 76&deg; in the
shade. I had had a very poor breakfast, and now had an excellent
appetite for all the dinner I could command, and I could not help
thinking that there is a great deal of sound philosophy in the Chinese
doctrine, That the seat of the mind and the intellect is situate in the
stomach.

<p>Starting again and gaining a rise in the dense ocean of scrub, I got
a sight of the mountain, whose appearance was most wonderful; it seemed
so rifted and riven, and had acres of bare red rock without a shrub or
tree upon it. I next found myself under the shadow of a huge rock
towering above me amidst the scrubs, but too hidden to perceive until I
reached it. On ascending it I was much pleased to discover, at a mile
and a half off, the gum timber of a creek which meandered through this
wilderness. On gaining its banks I was disappointed to find that its
channel was very flat and poorly defined, though the timber upon it was
splendid. Elegant upright creamy stems supported their umbrageous tops,
whose roots must surely extend downwards to a moistened soil. On each
bank of the creek was a strip of green and open ground, so richly
grassed and so beautifully bedecked with flowers that it seemed like
suddenly escaping from purgatory into paradise when emerging from the
recesses of the scrubs on to the banks of this beautiful, I wish I might
call it, stream.

<p>Opposite to where I struck it stood an extraordinary hill or ridge,
consisting of a huge red turtle back having a number of enormous red
stones almost egg-shaped, traversing, or rather standing in a row upon,
its whole length like a line of elliptical Tors. I could compare it to
nothing else than an enormous oolitic monster of the turtle kind
carrying its eggs upon its back. A few cypress pine-trees grew in the
interstices of the rocks, giving it a most elegant appearance. Hoping to
find some rock or other reservoir of water, I rode over to this
creature, or feature. Before reaching its foot, I came upon a small
piece of open, firm, grassy ground, most beautifully variegated with
many-coloured vegetation, with a small bare piece of ground in the
centre, with rain water lying on it. The place was so exquisitely lovely
it seemed as if only rustic garden seats were wanting, to prove that it
had been laid out by the hand of man. But it was only an instance of one
of Nature's freaks, in which she had so successfully imitated her
imitator, Art. I watered my horse and left him to graze on this
delectable spot, while I climbed the oolitic's back. There was not
sufficient water in the garden for all my horses, and it was actually
necessary for me to find more, or else the region would be untenable.

<p>The view from this hill was wild and strange; the high, bald forehead
of the mountain was still four or five miles away, the country between
being all scrub. The creek came from the south-westward, and was lost in
the scrubs to the east of north. A thick and vigorous clump of eucalypts
down the creek induced me first to visit them, but the channel was
hopelessly dry. Returning, I next went up the creek, and came to a place
where great boulders of stone crossed the bed, and where several
large-sized holes existed, but were now dry. Hard by, however, I found a
damp spot, and near it in the sand a native well, not more than two feet
deep, and having water in it. Still farther up I found an overhanging
rock, with a good pool of water at its foot, and I was now satisfied
with my day's work. Here I camped. I made a fire at a large log lying in
the creek bed; my horse was up to his eyes in most magnificent herbage,
and I could not help envying him as I watched him devouring his food. I
felt somewhat lonely, and cogitated that what has been written or said
by cynics, solitaries, or Byrons, of the delights of loneliness, has no
real home in the human heart. Nothing could appal the mind so much as
the contemplation of eternal solitude. Well may another kind of poet
exclaim, Oh, solitude! where are the charms that sages have seen in thy
face? for human sympathy is one of the passions of human nature. Natives
had been here very recently, and the scrubs were burning, not far off to
the northwards, in the neighbourhood of the creek channel. As night
descended, I lay me down by my bright camp fire in peace to sleep,
though doubtless there are very many of my readers who would scarcely
like to do the same. Such a situation might naturally lead one to
consider how many people have lain similarly down at night, in fancied
security, to be awakened only by the enemies' tomahawk crashing through
their skulls. Such thoughts, if they intruded themselves upon my mind,
were expelled by others that wandered away to different scenes and
distant friends, for this Childe Harold also had a mother not forgot,
and sisters whom he loved, but saw them not, ere yet his weary
pilgrimage begun.

<p>Dreams also, between sleeping and waking, passed swiftly through my
brain, and in my lonely sleep I had real dreams, sweet, fanciful, and
bright, mostly connected with the enterprise upon which I had
embarked&mdash;dreams that I had wandered into, and was passing through,
tracts of fabulously lovely glades, with groves and grottos green,
watered by never-failing streams of crystal, dotted with clusters of
magnificent palm-trees, and having groves, charming groves, of the
fairest of pines, of groves &ldquo;whose rich trees wept odorous gums
and balm.&rdquo;

<p class="poem">&ldquo;And all throughout the night there reigned the sense
<br>Of waking dream, with luscious thoughts o'erladen; 
<br>Of joy too conscious made, and too intense,
<br>By the swift advent of this longed-for aidenn.&rdquo;

<p>On awaking, however, I was forced to reflect, how &ldquo;mysterious are these laws! The vision's finer than the view: her landscape Nature never draws so fair as fancy drew.&rdquo; The morning was cold, the thermometer stood at 28&deg;, and now&mdash;

<p class="poem"> &ldquo;The morn was up again, the dewy morn; 
<br>With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom,
<br>Laughing the clouds away with playful scorn,
<br>And smiling, as if earth contained no tomb:
<br>And glowing into day.&rdquo;

<p>With this charming extract from Byron for breakfast I saddled my
horse, having nothing more to detain me here, intending to bring up the
whole party as soon as possible.

<h5><a name="i13">ILLUSTRATION 13</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t13.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>TIETKEN'S BIRTHDAY CREEK AND MOUNT CARNARVON.</h5>

<h5><a name="i14">ILLUSTRATION 14</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t14.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>ON BIRTHDAY CREEK.</h5>

<p>I now, however, returned by a more southerly route, and found the
scrubs less thick, and came to some low red rises in them. Having
travelled east, I now turned on the bearing for the tea-tree creek,
where the party ought now to be. At six miles on this line I came upon
some open ground, and saw several emus. This induced me to look around
for water, and I found some clay-pans with enough water to last a week.
I was very well pleased, as this would save time and trouble in digging
at the tea-tree. The water here was certainly rather thick, and scarcely
fit for human organisms, at least for white ones, though it might suit
black ones well enough, and it was good enough for our horses, which was
the greatest consideration. I rested my horse here for an hour, and then
rode to the tea-tree. The party, however, were not there, and I waited
in expectation of their arrival. In about an hour Mr. Tietkens came and
informed me that on his return to the camp the other day he had found a
nice little water, six miles from here, and where the party was, and to
which we now rode together. At this agreeable little spot were the three
essentials for an explorer's camp&mdash;that is to say, wood, water, and
grass. From there we went to my clay pans, and the next day to my lonely
camp of dreams. This, the 30th August, was an auspicious day in our
travels, it being no less than Mr. Tietkens's nine-and-twentieth
birthday. We celebrated it with what honours the expedition stores would
afford, obtaining a flat bottle of spirits from the medical department,
with which we drank to his health and many happier returns of the day.
In honour of the occasion I called this Tietkens's Birthday Creek, and
hereby proclaim it unto the nations that such should be its name for
ever. The camp was not moved, but Mr. Tietkens and I rode over to the
high mountain to-day, taking with us all the apparatus necessary for so
great an ascent&mdash;that is to say, thermometer, barometer, compass,
field glasses, quart pot, waterbag, and matches. In about four miles we
reached its foot, and found its sides so bare and steep that I took off
my boots for the ascent. It was formed for the most part like a
stupendous turtle back, of a conglomerate granite, with no signs of
water, or any places that would retain it for a moment, round or near
its base. Upon reaching its summit, the view was most extensive in every
direction except the west, and though the horizon was bounded in all
directions by ranges, yet scrubs filled the entire spaces between. To
the north lay a long and very distant range, which I thought might be
the Gill's Range of my last expedition, though it would certainly be a
stretch either of imagination or vision, for that range was nearly 140
miles away.

<p>To the north-westward was a flat-topped hill, rising like a table
from an ocean of scrub; it was very much higher than such hills usually
are. This was Mount Conner. To the south, and at a considerable distance
away, lay another range of some length, apparently also of considerable
altitude. I called this the Everard Range. The horizon westward was
bounded by a continuous mass of hills or mountains, from the centre of
which Birthday Creek seemed to issue. Many of the mounts westward
appeared of considerable elevation. The natives were burning the scrubs
west and north-west. On the bare rocks of this mountain we saw several
white, bleached snail-shells. I was grieved to find that my barometer
had met with an accident in our climb; however, by testing the boiling
point of water I obtained the altitude.

<p>Water boiled at 206&deg;, giving an elevation of 3085 feet above the
level of the sea, it being about 1200 feet above the surrounding
country. The view of Birthday Creek winding along in little bends
through the scrubs from its parent mountains, was most pleasing. Down
below us were some very pretty little scenes. One was a small sandy
channel, like a plough furrow, with a few eucalyptus trees upon it,
running from a ravine near the foot of this mount, which passed at about
a mile through two red mounds of rock, only just wide enough apart to
admit of its passage. A few cypress pines were growing close to the
little gorge. On any other part of the earth's surface, if, indeed, such
another place could be found, water must certainly exist also, but here
there was none. We had a perfect bird's-eye view of the spot. We could
only hope, for beauty and natural harmony's sake, that water must exist,
at least below the surface, if not above. Having completed our survey,
we descended barefooted as before.

<p>On reaching the camp, Gibson and Jimmy had shot some parrots and
other birds, which must have flown down the barrels of their guns,
otherwise they never could have hit them, and we had an excellent supper
of parrot soup. Just here we have only seen parrots, magpies and a few
pigeons, though plenty of kangaroo, wallaby, and emu; but have not
succeeded in bagging any of the latter game, as they are exceedingly shy
and difficult to approach, from being so continually hunted by the
natives. I named this very singular feature Mount Carnarvon, or The
Sentinel, as soon I found

<p class="poem">&ldquo;The mountain there did stand
<br>T sentinel enchanted land.&rdquo;

<p>The night was cold; mercury down to 26&deg;. What little dew fell
became frosted; there was not sufficient to call it frozen. I found my
position here to be in latitude 26&deg; 3&acute;, longitude 132&deg;
29&acute;.

<p>In the night of the 1st September, heavy clouds were flying fastly
over us, and a few drops of rain fell at intervals. About ten o'clock
p.m. I observed a lunar rainbow in the northern horizon; its diameter
was only about fifteen degrees. There were no prismatic colours visible
about it. To-day was clear, fine, but rather windy. We travelled up the
creek, skirting its banks, but cutting off the bends. We had low ridges
on our right. The creek came for some distance from the south-west, then
more southerly, then at ten miles, more directly from the hills to the
west. The country along its banks was excellent, and the scenery most
beautiful&mdash;pine-clad, red, and rocky hills being scattered about in
various directions, while further to the west and south-west the high,
bold, and very rugged chain rose into peaks and points. We only
travelled sixteen miles, and encamped close to a pretty little pine-clad
hill, on the north bank of the creek, where some rocks traversed the
bed, and we easily obtained a good supply of water. The grass and
herbage being magnificent, the horses were in a fine way to enjoy
themselves.

<p>This spot is one of the most charming that even imagination could
paint. In the background were the high and pointed peaks of the main
chain, from which sloped a delightful green valley; through this the
creek meandered, here and there winding round the foot of little
pine-clad hills of unvarying red colour, whilst the earth from which
they sprung was covered with a carpet of verdure and vegetation of
almost every imaginable hue. It was happiness to lie at ease upon such a
carpet and gaze upon such a scene, and it was happiness the more
ecstatic to know that I was the first of a civilised race of men who had
ever beheld it. My visions of a former night really seemed to be
prophetic. The trend of the creek, and the valley down which it came,
was about 25&deg; south of west. We soon found it became contracted by
impinging hills. At ten miles from camp we found a pool of water in the
bed. In about a couple of miles farther, to my surprise I found we had
reached its head and its source, which was the drainage of a big hill.
There was no more water and no rock-holes, neither was there any gorge.
Some triodia grew on the hills, but none on the lower ground. The valley
now changed into a charming amphitheatre. We had thus traced our
Birthday Creek, to its own birthplace. It has a short course, but a
merry one, and had ended for us at its proper beginning. As there
appeared to be no water in the amphitheatre, we returned to the pool we
had seen in the creek. Several small branch creeks running through
pretty little valleys joined our creek to-day. We were now near some of
the higher cones of the main chain, and could see that they were all
entirely timberless, and that triodia grew upon their sides. The spot we
were now encamped upon was another scene of exquisite sylvan beauty. We
had now been a month in the field, as to-morrow was the 4th of
September, and I could certainly congratulate myself upon the result of
my first month's labour.

<p>The night was cold and windy, dense nimbus clouds hovered just above
the mountain peaks, and threatened a heavy downpour of rain, but the
driving gale scattered them into the gelid regions of space, and after
sunrise we had a perfectly clear sky. I intended this morning to push
through what seemed now, as it had always seemed from the first moment I
saw this range, a main gap through the chain. Going north round a
pointed hill, we were soon in the trend of the pass; in five miles we
reached the banks of a new creek, running westerly into another, or else
into a large eucalyptus flat or swamp, which had no apparent outlet.
This heavy timber could be seen for two or three miles. Advancing still
further, I soon discovered that we were upon the reedy banks of a fast
flowing stream, whose murmuring waters, ever rushing idly and unheeded
on, were now for the first time disclosed to the delighted eyes of their
discoverer.

<p>Here I had found a spot where Nature truly had

<p class="poem">&ldquo;Shed o'er the scene her purest of crystal, her brightest of green.&rdquo;

<p>This was really a delightful discovery. Everything was of the best
kind here&mdash;timber, water, grass, and mountains. In all my
wanderings, over thousands of miles in Australia, I never saw a more
delightful and fanciful region than this, and one indeed where a white
man might live and be happy. My dreams of a former night were of a
verity realised.

<p>Geographically speaking, we had suddenly come almost upon the extreme
head of a large water course. Its trend here was nearly south, and I
found it now ran through a long glen in that direction.

<p>We saw several fine pools and ponds, where the reeds opened in the
channel, and we flushed up and shot several lots of ducks. This creek
and glen I have named respectively the Ferdinand and Glen Ferdinand,
after the Christian name of Baron von Mueller. (The names having a star
* against them in this book denote contributors to the fund raised by
Baron Mueller* for this expedition.&mdash;E.G.) The glen extended nearly
five miles, and where it ended, the water ceased to show upon the
surface. At the end of the glen we encamped, and I do not remember any
day's work during my life which gave me more pleasure than this, for I
trust it will be believed that:&mdash;

<p class="poem">&ldquo;The proud desire of sowing broad the germs of lasting worth
<br>Shall challenge give to scornful laugh of careless sons of earth; 
<br>Though mirth deride, the pilgrim feet that tread the desert plain,
<br>The thought that cheers me onward is, I have not lived in vain.&rdquo;

<p>After our dinner Mr. Tietkens and I ascended the highest mountain in
the neighbourhood&mdash;several others not far away were higher, but
this was the most convenient. Water boiled at its summit at 204&deg;,
which gives an altitude above sea level of 4131 feet, it being about
1500 feet above the surrounding country. I called this Mount Ferdinand,
and another higher point nearly west of it I called Mount James-Winter*.
The view all round from west to north was shut out. To the south and
south-east other ranges existed. The timber of the Ferdinand could be
traced for many miles in a southerly direction; it finally became lost
in the distance in a timbered if not a scrubby country. This mountain
was highly magnetic. I am surprised at seeing so few signs of natives in
this region. We returned to the camp and sowed seeds of many cereals,
fodder plants, and vegetables. A great quantity of tea-tree grew in this
glen. The water was pure and fresh.

<p>Two or three miles farther down, the creek passed between two hills;
the configuration of the mountains now compelled me to take a
south-westerly valley for my road. In a few miles another fine
creek-channel came out of the range to the north of us, near the foot of
Mount James-Winter; it soon joined a larger one, up which was plenty of
running water; this I called the Reid*. We were now traversing another
very pretty valley running nearly west, with fine cotton and salt-bush
flats, while picturesque cypress pines covered the hills on both sides
of us. Under some hills which obstructed our course was another creek,
where we encamped, the grass and herbage being most excellent; and this
also was a very pretty place. Our latitude here was 26&deg; 24&acute;.

<h5><a name="i15">ILLUSTRATION 15</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t15.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>ENCOUNTER WITH THE NATIVES AT &ldquo;THE OFFICER,&rdquo; MUSGRAVE RANGE.</h5>

<p>Gibson went away on horseback this morning to find the others, but
came back on foot to say he had lost the one he started with. We
eventually got them all, and proceeded down the creek south, then
through a little gap west, on to the banks of a fine large creek with
excellent timber on it. The natives were burning the grass up the
channel north-westerly. Mr. Tietkens and I rode up in advance to
reconnoitre; we went nearly three miles, when we came to running water.
At the same time we evidently disturbed a considerable number of
natives, who raised a most frightful outcry at our sudden and unexpected
advent amongst them. Those nearest to us walked slowly into the reeds,
rushes, tea-trees, and high salt bushes, but deliberately watching our
every movement. While watering our horses a great many from the
outskirts ran at us, poising and quivering their spears, some of which
were over ten feet long; of these, every individual had an extraordinary
number. When they saw us sitting quietly, but not comfortably, on our
horses, which became very frightened and impatient, they renewed their
horrible yells and gesticulations, some waving us away, others climbing
trees, and directing their spears at us from the branches. Another lot
on the opposite side of the creek now came rushing up with spears
advanced and ensigns spread, and with their yells and cries encouraged
those near to spear us. They seemed, however, to have some doubts of the
nature or vulnerability of our horses. At the head of our new assailants
was one sophisticated enough to be able to call out, &ldquo;Walk, white
fellow, walk;&rdquo; but as we still remained immobile, he induced some
others to join in making a rush at us, and they hurled their jagged
spears at us before we could get out of the way. It was fortunate indeed
that we were at the extreme distance that these weapons can be
projected, for they struck the ground right amongst our horses' hoofs,
making them more restive than ever.

<p>I now let our assailants see we were not quite so helpless as they
might have supposed. I unslipped my rifle, and the bullet, going so
suddenly between two of these worthies and smashing some boughs just
behind them, produced silence amongst the whole congregation, at least
for a moment. All this time we were anxiously awaiting the arrival of
Gibson and Jimmy, as my instructions were that if we did not return in a
given time, they were to follow after us. But these valiant retainers,
who admitted they heard the firing, preferred to remain out of harm's
way, leaving us to kill or be killed, as the fortunes of war might
determine; and we at length had to retreat from our sable enemies, and
go and find our white friends. We got the mob of horses up, but the
yelling of these fiends in human form, the clouds of smoke from the
burning grass and bushes, and the many disagreeable odours incident to a
large native village, and the yapping and howling of a lot of starving
dogs, all combined to make us and our horses exceedingly restless. They
seemed somewhat overawed by the number of the horses, and though they
crowded round from all directions, for there were more than 200 of them,
the women and children being sent away over the hills at our first
approach, they did not then throw any more spears. I selected as open a
piece of ground as I could get for the camp, which, however, was very
small, back from the water, and nearly under the foot of a hill. When
they saw us dismount, for I believe they had previously believed
ourselves and our horses to form one animal, and begin to unload the
horses, they proceeded properly to work themselves up for a regular
onslaught. So long as the horses remained close, they seemed disinclined
to attack, but when they were hobbled and went away, the enemy made a
grand sortie, rushing down the hill at the back of the camp where they
had congregated, towards us in a body with spears fitted in pose and
yelling their war cries.

<p>Our lives were in imminent danger; we had out all the firearms we
could muster; these amounted to two rifles, two shot guns, and five
revolvers. I watched with great keenness the motion of their arms that
gives the propulsion to their spears, and the instant I observed that, I
ordered a discharge of the two rifles and one gun, as it was no use
waiting to be speared first. I delayed almost a second too long, for at
the instant I gave the word several spears had left the enemy's hands,
and it was with great good fortune we avoided them. Our shots, as I had
ordered, cut up the ground at their feet, and sent the sand and gravel
into their eyes and faces; this and the noise of the discharge made the
great body of them pause. Availing ourselves of this interval, we ran to
attack them, firing our revolvers in quick succession as we ran. This,
with the noise and the to them extraordinary phenomenon of a projectile
approaching them which they could not see, drove them up into the hills
from which they had approached us, and they were quiet for nearly an
hour, except for their unceasing howls and yells, during which time we
made an attempt at getting some dinner. That meal, however, was not
completed when we saw them stealing down on us again. Again they came
more than a hundred strong, with heads held back, and arms at fullest
tension to give their spears the greatest projective force, when, just
as they came within spear shot, for we knew the exact distance now, we
gave them another volley, striking the sand up just before their feet;
again they halted, consulting one another by looks and signs, when the
discharge of Gibson's gun, with two long-distance cartridges, decided
them, and they ran back, but only to come again. In consequence of our
not shooting any of them, they began to jeer and laugh at us, slapping
their backsides at and jumping about in front of us, and indecently
daring and deriding us. These were evidently some of those lewd fellows
of the baser sort (Acts 17 5). We were at length compelled to send some
rifle bullets into such close proximity to some of their limbs that at
last they really did believe we were dangerous folk after all. Towards
night their attentions ceased, and though they camped just on the
opposite side of the creek, they did not trouble us any more. Of course
we kept a pretty sharp watch during the night. The men of this nation
were tall, big, and exceedingly hirsute, and in excellent bodily
condition. They reminded me of, as no doubt they are, the prototypes of
the account given by the natives of the Charlotte Waters telegraph
station, on my first expedition, who declared that out to the west were
tribes of wild blacks who were cannibals, who were covered with hair,
and had long manes hanging down their backs.

<p>None of these men, who perhaps were only the warriors of the tribe,
were either old or grey-haired, and although their features in general
were not handsome, some of the younger ones' faces were prepossessing.
Some of them wore the chignon, and others long curls; the youngest ones
who wore curls looked at a distance like women. A number were painted
with red ochre, and some were in full war costume, with feathered crowns
and head dresses, armlets and anklets of feathers, and having alternate
stripes of red and white upon the upper portions of their bodies; the
majority of course were in undress uniform. I knew as soon as I arrived
in this region that it must be well if not densely populated, for it is
next to impossible in Australia for an explorer to discover excellent
and well-watered regions without coming into deadly conflict with the
aboriginal inhabitants. The aborigines are always the aggressors, but
then the white man is a trespasser in the first instance, which is a
cause sufficient for any atrocity to be committed upon him. I named this
Encounter Creek The Officer.* There was a high mount to the north-east
from here, which lay nearly west from Mount James-Winter, which I called
Mount Officer.*

<p>Though there was a sound of revelry or devilry by night in the
enemy's camp, ours was not passed in music, and we could not therefore
listen to the low harmonics that undertone sweet music's roll. Gibson
got one of the horses which was in sight, to go and find the others,
while Mr. Tietkens took Jimmy with him to the top of a hill in order to
take some bearings for me, while I remained at the camp. No sooner did
the natives see me alone than they recommenced their malpractices. I had
my arsenal in pretty good fighting order, and determined, if they
persisted in attacking me, to let some of them know the consequences. I
was afraid that some might spear me from behind while others engaged me
in front. I therefore had to be doubly on the alert. A mob of them came,
and I fired in the air, then on the ground, at one side of them and then
at the other. At last they fell back, and when the others and the horses
appeared, though they kept close round us, watching every movement,
yelling perpetually, they desisted from further attack. I was very
gratified to think afterwards that no blood had been shed, and that we
had got rid of our enemies with only the loss of a little ammunition.
Although this was Sunday, I did not feel quite so safe as if I were in a
church or chapel, and I determined not to remain. The horses were
frightened at the incessant and discordant yells and shrieks of these
fiends, and our ears also were perfectly deafened with their outcries.

<p>We departed, leaving the aboriginal owners of this splendid piece of
land in the peaceful possession of their beautiful hunting grounds, and
travelled west through a small gap into a fine valley. The main range
continued stretching away north of us in high and heavy masses of hills,
and with a fine open country to the south. At ten miles we came to
another fine creek, where I found water running; this I called the
Currie*. It was late when, in six miles further, we reached another
creek, where we got water and a delightful camp. I called this the
Levinger*. The country to-day was excellent, being fine open, grassy
valleys all the way; all along our route in this range we saw great
quantities of white snail-shells, in heaps, at old native encampments,
and generally close to their fireplaces. In crevices and under rocks we
found plenty of the living snails, large and brown; it was evident the
natives cook and eat them, the shells turning white in the fire, also by
exposure to the sun. On starting again we travelled about
west-north-west, and we passed through a piece of timbered country; at
twelve miles we arrived at another fine watercourse. The horses were
almost unmanageable with flashness, running about with their mouths full
of the rich herbage, kicking up their heels and biting at one another,
in a perfect state of horse-play. It was almost laughable to see them,
with such heavy packs on their backs, attempting such elephantine
gambols; so I kept them going, to steady them a bit. The creek here I
called Winter* Water. At five miles farther we passed a very high
mountain in the range, which appeared the highest I had seen; I named it
Mount Davenport. We next passed through a small gap, over a low hill,
and immediately on our appearance we heard the yells and outcries of
natives down on a small flat below. All we saw, however, was a small,
and I hope happy, family, consisting of two men, one woman, and another
youthful individual, but whether male or female I was not sufficiently
near to determine. When they saw us descend from the little hill, they
very quickly walked away, like respectable people. Continuing our course
in nearly the same direction, west-north-west, and passing two little
creeks, I climbed a small hill and saw a most beautiful valley about a
mile away, stretching north-west, with eucalyptus or gum timber up at
the head of it. The valley appeared entirely enclosed by hills, and was
a most enticing sight. Travelling on through 200 or 300 yards of mulga,
we came out on the open ground, which was really a sight that would
delight the eyes of a traveller, even in the Province of Cashmere or any
other region of the earth. The ground was covered with a rich carpet of
grass and herbage; conspicuous amongst the latter was an abundance of
the little purple vetch, which, spreading over thousands of acres of
ground, gave a lovely pink or magenta tinge to the whole scene. I also
saw that there was another valley running nearly north, with another
creek meandering through it, apparently joining the one first seen.

<h5><a name="i16">ILLUSTRATION 16</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t16.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>THE FAIRIES' GLEN.</h5>

<p>Passing across this fairy space, I noticed the whitish appearances
that usually accompany springs and flood-marks in this region. We soon
reached a most splendid kind of stone trough, under a little stony bank,
which formed an excellent spring, running into and filling the little
trough, running out at the lower end, disappearing below the surface,
evidently perfectly satisfied with the duties it had to perform.

<p>This was really the most delightful spot I ever saw; a region like a
garden, with springs of the purest water spouting out of the ground,
ever flowing into a charming little basin a hundred yards long by twenty
feet wide and four feet deep. There was a quantity of the tea-tree bush
growing along the various channels, which all contained running water.

<p>The valley is surrounded by picturesque hills, and I am certain it is
the most charming and romantic spot I ever shall behold. I immediately
christened it the Fairies' Glen, for it had all the characteristics to
my mind of fairyland. Here we encamped. I would not have missed finding
such a spot, upon&mdash;I will not say what consideration. Here also of
course we saw numbers of both ancient and modern native huts, and this
is no doubt an old-established and favourite camping ground. And how
could it be otherwise? No creatures of the human race could view these
scenes with apathy or dislike, nor would any sentient beings part with
such a patrimony at any price but that of their blood. But the great
Designer of the universe, in the long past periods of creation,
permitted a fiat to be recorded, that the beings whom it was His
pleasure in the first instance to place amidst these lovely scenes, must
eventually be swept from the face of the earth by others more
intellectual, more dearly beloved and gifted than they. Progressive
improvement is undoubtedly the order of creation, and we perhaps in our
turn may be as ruthlessly driven from the earth by another race of yet
unknown beings, of an order infinitely higher, infinitely more beloved,
than we. On me, perchance, the eternal obloquy of the execution of God's
doom may rest, for being the first to lead the way, with prying eye and
trespassing foot, into regions so fair and so remote; but being
guiltless alike in act or intention to shed the blood of any human
creature, I must accept it without a sigh.

<p>The night here was cold, the mercury at daylight being down to
24&deg;, and there was ice on the water or tea left in the pannikins or
billies overnight.

<p>This place was so charming that I could not tear myself away. Mr.
Tietkens and I walked to and climbed up a high mount, about three miles
north-easterly from camp; it was of some elevation. We ascended by a
gorge having eucalyptus and callitris pines halfway up. We found water
running from one little basin to another, and high up, near the summit,
was a bare rock over which water was gushing. To us, as we climbed
towards it, it appeared like a monstrous diamond hung in mid-air,
flashing back the rays of the morning sun. I called this Mount Oberon,
after Shakespeare's King of the Fairies. The view from its summit was
limited. To the west the hills of this chain still run on; to the east I
could see Mount Ferdinand. The valley in which the camp and water was
situate lay in all its loveliness at our feet, and the little natural
trough in its centre, now reduced in size by distance, looked like a
silver thread, or, indeed, it appeared more as though Titania, the Queen
of the Fairies, had for a moment laid her magic silver wand upon the
grass, and was reposing in the sunlight among the herbage and the
flowers. The day was lovely, the sky serene and clear, and a gentle
zephyr-like breeze merely agitated the atmosphere. As we sat gazing over
this delightful scene, and having found also so many lovely spots in
this chain of mountains, I was tempted to believe I had discovered
regions which might eventually support, not only flocks and herds, but
which would become the centres of population also, each individual
amongst whom would envy me us being the first discoverer of the scenes
it so delighted them to view. For here were:&mdash;

<p class="poem">&ldquo;Long dreamy lawns, and birds on happy wings
<br>Keeping their homes in never-rifled bowers; 
<br>Cool fountains filling with their murmuring
<br>The sunny silence 'twixt the charming hours.&rdquo;

<p>In the afternoon we returned to the camp, and again and again
wondered at the singular manner in which the water existed here. Five
hundred yards above or below there is no sign of water, but in that
intermediate space a stream gushes out of the ground, fills a splendid
little trough, and gushes into the
ground again: emblematic indeed of the ephemeral existence of
humanity&mdash;we rise out of the dust, flash for a brief moment in the
light of life, and in
another we are gone. We planted seeds here; I called it Titania's
Spring, the
watercourse in which it exists I called Moffatt's* Creek.

<p>The night was totally different from the former, the mercury not
falling below 66&deg;. The horses upon being brought up to the camp this
morning on foot, displayed such abominable liveliness and flashness,
that there was no catching them. One colt, Blackie, who was the leader
of the riot, I just managed at length to catch, and then we had to drive
the others several times round the camp at a gallop, before their
exuberance had in a measure subsided. It seemed, indeed, as if the
fairies had been bewitching them during the night. It was late when we
left the lovely spot. A pretty valley running north-west, with a creek
in it, was our next road; our track wound about through the most
splendidly grassed valleys, mostly having a trend westerly. At twelve
miles we saw the gum timber of a watercourse, apparently debouching
through a glen. Of course there was water, and a channel filled with
reeds, down which the current ran in never-failing streams. This spot
was another of those charming gems which exist in such numbers in this
chain. This was another of those &ldquo;secret nooks in a pleasant land,
by the frolic fairies planned.&rdquo; I called the place Glen Watson*.
From a hill near I discovered that this chain had now become broken, and
though it continues to run on still farther west, it seemed as though it
would shortly end. The Mount Olga of my former expedition was now in
view, and bore north 17&deg; west, a considerable distance away. I was
most anxious to visit it. On my former journey I had made many
endeavours to reach it, but was prevented; now, however, I hoped no
obstacle would occur, and I shall travel towards it to-morrow. There was
more than a mile of running water here, the horses were up to their eyes
in the most luxuriant vegetation, and our encampment was again in a most
romantic spot. Ah! why should regions so lovely be traversed so soon?
This chain of mountains is called the Musgrave Range. A heavy dew fell
last night, produced, I imagine, by the moisture in the glen, and not by
extraneous atmospheric causes, as we have had none for some nights
previously.

<hr>

<h4><a name="ch2.3">CHAPTER 2.3. FROM 10TH SEPTEMBER TO 30TH SEPTEMBER, 1873.</a></h4>
<blockquote>
Leave for Mount Olga.
Change of scene.
Desert oak-trees.
The Mann range.
Fraser's Wells.
Mount Olga's foot.
Gosse's expedition.
Marvellous mountain.
Running water.
Black and gold butterflies.
Rocky bath.
Ayers' Rock.
Appearance of Mount Olga.
Irritans camp.
Sugar-loaf Hill.
Collect plants.
Peaches.
A patch of better country.
A new creek and glen.
Heat and cold.
A pellucid pond.
Zoe's Glen.
Christy Bagot's Creek.
Stewed ducks.
A lake.
Hector's Springs and Pass.
Lake Wilson.
Stevenson's Creek.
Milk thistles.
Beautiful amphitheatre.
A carpet of verdure.
Green swamp.
Smell of camels.
How I found Livingstone.
Gabriel Daniel Fahrenheit.
Cotton and salt bush flats.
The Champ de Mars.
Sheets of water.
Peculiar tree.
Pleasing scene.
Harriet's Springs.
Water in grass.
Ants and burrs.
Mount Aloysius.
Across the border.
The Bell Rock.
</blockquote>
<p>We left this pretty glen with its purling stream and reedy bed, and
entered very shortly upon an entirely different country, covered with
porcupine grass. We went north-west to some ridges at seventeen miles,
where there was excellent vegetation, but no water. I noticed to-day for
the first time upon this expedition some of the desert oak trees
(Casuarina Decaisneana). Nine miles farther we reached a round hill,
from which Mount Olga bore north. We were still a considerable distance
away, and as I did not know of any water existing at Mount Olga, I was
anxious to find some, for the horses had none where we encamped last
night. From this hill I could also see that the Musgrave chain still ran
on to the west; though broken and parted in masses, it rose again into
high mounts and points. This continuation is called the Mann Range. Near
the foot of the round hill I saw a small flat piece of rock, barely
perceptible among the grass; on it was an old native fireplace and a few
dead sticks. On inspection there proved to be two fine little holes or
basins in the solid rock, with ample water for all my horses. Scrub and
triodia existed in the neighbourhood, and the feed was very poor. These
were called Fraser's Wells. Mount Olga was still fifty miles away. We
now pushed on for it over some stony and some scrubby country, and had
to camp without water and with wretched feed for the horses. Casuarina
trees were often passed. We generally managed to get away early from a
bad camp, and by the middle of the next day we arrived at the foot of
Mount Olga. Here I perceived the marks of a wagon and horses, and camel
tracks; these I knew at once to be those of Gosse's expedition. Gosse
had come down south through the regions, and to the watering places
which I discovered in my former journey. He had evidently gone south to
the Mann range, and I expected soon to overtake him. I had now travelled
four hundred miles to reach this mount, which, when I first saw it, was
only seventy-five or eighty miles distant.

<p>The appearance of this mountain is marvellous in the extreme, and
baffles an accurate description. I shall refer to it again, and may
remark here that it is formed of several vast and solid, huge, and
rounded blocks of bare red conglomerate stones, being composed of untold
masses of rounded stones of all kinds and sizes, mixed like plums in a
pudding, and set in vast and rounded shapes upon the ground. Water was
running from the base, down a stony channel, filling several rocky
basins. The water disappeared in the sandy bed of the creek, where the
solid rock ended. We saw several quandongs, or native peach-trees, and
some native poplars on our march to-day. I made an attempt to climb a
portion of this singular mound, but the sides were too perpendicular; I
could only get up about 800 or 900 feet, on the front or lesser mound;
but without kites and ropes, or projectiles, or wings, or balloons, the
main summit is unscaleable. The quandong fruit here was
splendid&mdash;we dried a quantity in the sun. Some very beautiful black
and gold, butterflies, with very large wings, were seen here and
collected. The thermometer to-day was 95&deg; in the shade. We enjoyed a
most luxurious bath in the rocky basins. We moved the camp to softer
ground, where there was a well-grassed flat a mile and a half away. To
the east was a high and solitary mound, mentioned in my first journal as
ranges to the east of Mount Olga, and apparently lying north and south;
this is called Ayers' Rock; I shall have to speak of it farther on. To
the west-south-west were some pointed ridges, with the long extent of
the Mann Ranges lying east and west, far beyond them to the south.

<p>The appearance of Mount Olga from this camp is truly wonderful; it
displayed to our astonished eyes rounded minarets, giant cupolas, and
monstrous domes. There they have stood as huge memorials of the ancient
times of earth, for ages, countless eons of ages, since its creation
first had birth. The rocks are smoothed with the attrition of the
alchemy of years. Time, the old, the dim magician, has ineffectually
laboured here, although with all the powers of ocean at his command;
Mount Olga has remained as it was born; doubtless by the agency of
submarine commotion of former days, beyond even the epoch of far-back
history's phantom dream. From this encampment I can only liken Mount
Olga to several enormous rotund or rather elliptical shapes of rouge
mange, which had been placed beside one another by some extraordinary
freak or convulsion of Nature. I found two other running brooks, one on
the west and one on the north side. My first encampment was on the
south. The position of this extraordinary feature is in latitude 25&deg;
20&acute; and longitude 130&deg; 57&acute;.

<p>Leaving the mountain, we next traversed a region of sandy soil,
rising into sandhills, with patches of level ground between. There were
casuarinas and triodia in profusion&mdash;two different kinds of
vegetation which appear to thoroughly enjoy one another's company. We
went to the hills south south-westerly, and had a waterless camp in the
porcupine, triodia, spinifex, Festuca irritans, and
everything-else-abominable, grass; 95&deg; in shade. At about thirty-two
miles from Mount Olga we came to the foot of the hills, and I found a
small supply of water by digging; but at daylight next morning there was
not sufficient for half the horses, so I rode away to look for more;
this I found in a channel coming from a sugar-loaf or high-peaked hill.
It was a terribly rough and rocky place, and it was too late to get the
animals up to the ledges where the water was, and they had to wait till
next day.

<p>From here I decided to steer for a notch in the Mann Range, nearly
south-west. The country consisted chiefly of sandhills, with casuarina
and flats with triodia. We could get no water by night. I collected a
great quantity of various plants and flowers along all the way I had
come in fact, but just about Mount Olga I fancied I had discovered
several new species. To-day we passed through some mallee, and gathered
quandongs or native peach, which, with sugar, makes excellent jam; we
also saw currajongs and native poplars. We now turned to some ridges a
few miles nearer than the main range, and dug a tank, for the horses
badly wanted water. A very small quantity drained in, and the animals
had to go a second night unwatered. It was now the 22nd of September,
and I had hoped to have some rain at the equinox, but none had yet
fallen. The last two days have been very warm and oppressive. The
country round these ridges was very good, and plenty of the little
purple vetch grew here. The tank in the morning was quite full; it
however watered only seventeen horses, but by twelve o'clock all were
satisfied, and we left the tank for the benefit of those whom it might
concern.

<h5><a name="i17">ILLUSTRATION 17</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t17.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>ZOE'S GLEN.</h5>

<p>We were steering for an enticing-looking glen between two high hills
about south-south-west. We passed over sandhills, through scrubs, and
eventually on to open ground. At two or three miles from the new range
we crossed a kind of dry swamp or water flat, being the end of a gum
creek. A creek was seen to issue from the glen as we approached, and at
twelve miles from our last camp we came upon running water in the three
channels which existed. The day was warm, 94&deg;. The water was
slightly brackish. Heat and cold are evidently relative perceptions, for
this morning, although the thermometer stood at 58&deg;, I felt the
atmosphere exceedingly cold. We took a walk up the glen whence the creek
flows, and on to some hills which environ it. The water was rushing
rapidly down the glen; we found several fine rock-basins&mdash;one in
particular was nine or ten feet deep, the pellucid element descending
into it from a small cascade of the rocks above; this was the largest
sheet of water per se I had yet discovered upon this expedition. It
formed a most picturesque and delightful bath, and as we plunged into
its transparent depths we revelled, as it were, in an almost newly
discovered element. I called this charming spot Zoe's Glen. In our
wanderings up the glen we had found books in the running brooks, and
sermons in stones. The latitude of this pretty little retreat was
25&deg; 59&acute;. I rode a mile or two to the east to inspect another
creek; its bed was larger than ours, and water was running down its
channel. I called it Christy Bagot's Creek. I flushed up a lot of ducks,
but had no gun. On my return Gibson and Jimmy took the guns, and walked
over on a shooting excursion; only three ducks were shot; of these we
made an excellent stew. A strong gale of warm wind blew from the south
all night. Leaving Zoe's Glen, we travelled along the foot of the range
to the south of us; at six or seven miles I observed a kind of valley
dividing this range running south, and turned down into it. It was at
first scrubby, then opened out. At four miles Mr. Tietkens and I mounted
a rocky rise, and he, being ahead, first saw and informed me that there
was a lake below us, two or three miles away. I was very much gratified
to see it, and we immediately proceeded towards it. The valley or pass
had now become somewhat choked with low pine-clad stony hills, and we
next came upon a running creek with some fine little sheets of water; it
meandered round the piny hills and exhausted itself upon the bosom of
the lake. I called these the Hector Springs and Hector Pass after Hector
Wilson*. On arrival at the lake I found its waters were slightly
brackish; there was no timber on its shores; it lay close under the foot
of the mountains, having their rocky slopes for its northern bank. The
opposite shore was sandy; numerous ducks and other water-fowl were
floating on its breast. Several springs from the ranges ran into its
northern shore, and on its eastern side a large creek ran in, though its
timber did not grow all the way. The water was now eight or nine miles
round; it was of an oblong form, whose greatest length is east and west.
When quite full this basin must be at least twenty miles in
circumference; I named this fine sheet of water Lake Wilson*. The
position of this lake I made out to be in longitude 129&deg; 52&acute;.
A disagreeable warm wind blew all day.

<p>The morning was oppressive, the warm south wind still blowing. We
left Lake Wilson, named after Sir Samuel, who was the largest
contributor to this expedition fund, in its wildness, its loneliness,
and its beauty, at the foot of its native mountains, and went away to
some low hills south-south-west, where in nine miles we got some water
in a channel I called Stevenson's* Creek. In a few miles further we
found ourselves in a kind of glen where water bubbled up from the ground
below. The channel had become filled with reeds, and great quantities of
enormous milk or sow thistle (Sonchus oleraceous). Some of the horses
got bogged in this ravine, which caused considerable delay. Eventually
it brought us out into a most beautiful amphitheatre, into which several
creeks descended. This open space was covered with the richest carpet of
verdure, and was a most enchanting spot. It was nearly three miles
across; we went over to its southern side, and camped under the hills
which fenced it there, and among them we obtained a supply of water. The
grass and herbage here were magnificent. The only opening to this
beautiful oval was some distance to the east; we therefore climbed over
the hills to the south to get away, and came upon another fine valley
running westward, with a continuous line of hills running parallel to it
on the north. We made a meandering course, in a south-westerly
direction, for about fifteen miles, when the hills became low and
isolated, and gave but a poor look out for water. Other hills in a more
continuous line bore to the north of west, to which we went. In three
miles after this we came to a valley with a green swamp in the middle;
it was too boggy to allow horses to approach. A round hill in another
valley was reached late, and here our pack-horses, being driven in a mob
in front of us, put their noses to the ground and seemed to have smelt
something unusual, which proved to be Mr. Gosse's dray track. Our horses
were smelling the scent of his camels from afar. The dray track was now
comparatively fresh, and I had motives for following it. It was so late
we had to encamp without finding the water, which I was quite sure was
not far from us, and we turned out our horses hoping they might discover
it in the night.

<p>I went to sleep that night dreaming how I had met Mr. Gosse in this
wilderness, and produced a parody upon &lsquo;How I found
Livingstone.&rsquo; We travelled nearly thirty miles to-day upon all
courses, the country passed over being principally very fine valleys,
richly clothed with grass and almost every other kind of valuable
herbage. Yesterday, the 28th of September, was rather a warm day; I
speak by the card, for at ten o'clock at night Herr Gabriel Daniel
Fahrenheit had not condescended to fall below 82&deg;. The horses found
water in the night, and in the morning looked sleek and full. I intended
now, as I said before, to follow Gosse's dray track, for I knew he could
not be very far in advance.

<p>We followed the track a mile, when it turned suddenly to the
south-west, down a valley with a creek in it that lay in that direction.
But as a more leading one ran also in a more westerly direction, I left
the dray track almost at right angles, and proceeded along the more
westerly line. The valley I now traversed became somewhat scrubby with
mallee and triodia. In seven or eight miles we got into much better
country, lightly timbered with mulga and splendidly grassed. Here also
were some cotton and salt bush flats. To my English reader I may say
that these shrubs, or plants, or bushes are the most valuable fodder
plants for stock known in Australia; they are varieties of the Atriplex
family of plants, and whenever I can record meeting them, I do it with
the greatest satisfaction. At twelve miles the hills to our north
receded, and there lay stretched out before us a most beautiful plain,
level as a billiard table and green as an emerald. Viewing it from the
top of a hill, I could not help thinking what a glorious spot this would
make for the display of cavalry manoeuvres. In my mental eye I could see

<p class="poem">&ldquo;The rush of squadrons sweeping,
<br>Like whirlwinds o'er the plain;&rdquo;

<p>and mentally hear

<p class="poem">&ldquo;The shouting of the slayers,
<br>The screeching of the slain.&rdquo;

<p>I called this splendid circle the Champ de Mars; it is, I dare say,
fifteen or sixteen miles round. The hills on the northern side were much
higher than those near us, and appeared more inviting for water; so we
rode across the circle to them. In a kind of gully between the hills, at
four and a half miles, I found a rock-hole full of water in a triodia
creek; it was seven or eight feet deep, and almost hidden amongst rocks
and scrubs. The water drained into the hole from above. By the time my
horses were all satisfied they had lowered it very considerably, and I
did not think there would be a drink for them all in the morning; but
when we took them up next day I found the rocky basin had been
replenished during the night.

<p>A valley led away from here, along the foot of the northern hills,
almost west. At five miles we crossed the channel of a fine little
creek, coming from thence; it had several sheets of water with rocky
banks, and there were numerous ducks on the waters. The timber upon this
creek was mostly blood-wood or red gum; the blood-wood has now almost
entirely supplanted the other eucalypts. There was another tree of a
very peculiar leaf which I have often met before, but only as a bush;
here it had assumed the proportions of a tree. This was one of the
desert acacias, but which of them I could not tell. Farther on were
several bare red hills, festooned with cypress pines, which always give
a most pleasing tone to any Australian view. These I called Harriet's
Springs. The creek meandered away down the valley amongst pine-clad
hills to the south-westward, and appeared to increase in size below
where we crossed it.

<p>I ascended a hill and saw that the two lines of hills encircling the
Champ de Mars had now entirely separated, the space between becoming
gradually broader.

<p>A pointed hill at the far end of the southern line bore west, and we
started away for it. We continued on this west course for fifteen or
sixteen miles, having the southern hills very close to our line of
march. Having travelled some twenty miles, I turned up a blind gully or
water-channel in a small triodia valley, and found some water lying
about amongst the grass. The herbage here was splendid. Ants and burrs
were very annoying, however; we have been afflicted with both of these
animal and vegetable annoyances upon many occasions all through these
regions. There was a high, black-looking mountain with a conical summit,
in the northern line of ranges, which bore north-westward from here. I
named it Mount Aloysius, after the Christian name of Sir A.F. Weld,
Governor of Western Australia. We had entered the territory of the
Colony of Western Australia on the last day of September; the boundary
between it and South Australia being the 129th meridian of east
longitude. The latitude by stars of this camp was 26&deg; 9&acute;.
Leaving it early, we continued upon the same line as yesterday, and
towards the same hill, which we reached in five miles, and ascended. It
was nearly the most westerly point of the line of hills we had been
following. The summit of this hill I found to consist of great masses of
rifted stone, which were either solid iron or stone coated thickly with
it. The blocks rang with the sound of my iron-shod boots, while moving
over them, with such a musical intonation and bell-like clang, that I
called this the Bell Rock. Mount Aloysius bore north 9&deg; west,
distant about ten miles; here I saw it was quite an isolated range, as,
at its eastern and western extremities, open spaces could be seen
between it and any other hills.

<hr>

<h4><a name="ch2.4">CHAPTER 2.4. FROM 30TH SEPTEMBER TO 9TH NOVEMBER, 1873.</a></h4>
<blockquote>
Native encampment.
Fires alight.
Hogarth's Wells.
Mount Marie and Mount Jeanie.
Pointed ranges to the west.
Chop a passage.
Traces of volcanic action.
Highly magnetic hills.
The Leipoa ocellata.
Tapping pits.
Glen Osborne.
Cotton-bush flats.
Frowning bastion walls.
Fort Mueller.
A strong running stream.
Natives' smokes.
Gosse returning.
Limestone formation.
Native pheasants' nests.
Egg-carrying.
Mount Squires.
The Mus conditor's nest.
Difficulty with the horses.
A small creek and native well.
Steer for the west.
Night work.
Very desolate places.
A circular storm.
The Shoeing Camp.
A bare hill.
The Cups.
Fresh looking creek.
Brine and bitter water.
The desert pea.
Jimmy and the natives.
Natives prowling at night.
Searching for water.
Horses suffering from thirst.
Horseflesh.
The Cob.
The camp on fire.
Men and horses choking for water.
Abandon the place.
Displeasing view.
Native signs.
Another cup.
Thermometer 106&deg;.
Return to the Cob.
Old dry well.
A junction from the east.
Green rushes.
Another waterless camp.
Return to the Shoeing Camp.
Intense cold.
Biting dogs' noses.
A nasal organ.
Boiling an egg.
Tietkens and Gibson return unsuccessful.
Another attempt west.
Country burnt by natives.
</blockquote>
<p>We had now been travelling along the northern foot of the more
southerly of the two lines of hills which separated, at the west end of
the Champ de Mars; and on reaching the Bell Rock, this southern line
ceased, while the northern one still ran on, though at diminished
elevation, and we now travelled towards two hills standing together
about west-north-west. On reaching them, in thirteen miles, I found a
native encampment; there were several old and new bough gunyahs, and the
fires were alight at the doors? of many of them. We could not see the
people because they hid themselves, but I knew quite well they were
watching us close by. There was a large bare slab of rock, in which
existed two fine cisterns several feet in depth, one much longer than
the other, the small one containing quite a sufficient supply for all my
horses. I called these Hogarth's Wells, and the two hills Mount Marie
and Mount Jeanie. I was compelled to leave one of these receptacles
empty, which for ages the simple inhabitants of these regions had
probably never seen dry before. Some hills lay south-westerly, and we
reached them in nine miles; they were waterless. Southward the country
appeared all scrub. The western horizon was broken by ranges with some
high points amongst them; they were a long way off. To the
west-north-west some bald ranges also ran on. I made across to them,
steering for a fall or broken gap to the north-north-west. This was a
kind of glen, and I found a watercourse in it, with a great quantity of
tea-tree, which completely choked up the passage with good-sized trees,
whose limbs and branches were so interwoven that they prevented any
animal larger than a man from approaching the water, bubbling along at
their feet. We had to chop a passage to it for our horses. The hills
were quite destitute of timber, and were composed of huge masses of
rifted granite, which could only have been so riven by seismatic action,
which at one time must have been exceedingly frequent in this region.

<p>I may mention that, from the western half of the Musgrave Range, all
the Mann, the Tomkinson, and other ranges westward have been shivered
into fragments by volcanic force. Most of the higher points of all the
former and latter consist of frowning masses of black-looking or
intensely red ironstone, or granite thickly coated with iron. Triodia
grows as far up the sides of the hills as it is possible to obtain any
soil; but even this infernal grass cannot exist on solid rock; therefore
all the summits of these hills are bare. These shivered masses of stone
have large interstices amongst them, which are the homes, dens, or
resorts of swarms of a peculiar marsupial known as the rock wallaby,
which come down on to the lower grounds at night to feed. If they expose
themselves in the day, they are the prey of aborigines and eagles, if at
night, they fall victims to wild dogs or dingoes. The rocks frequently
change their contours from earthquake shocks, and great numbers of these
creatures are crushed and smashed by the trembling rocks, so that these
unfortunate creatures, beset by so many dangers, exist always in a
chronic state of fear and anxiety, and almost perpetual motion. These
hills also have the metallic clang of the Bell Rock, and are highly
magnetic. In the scrubs to-day Gibson found a Lowan's or scrub
pheasant's nest. These birds inhabit the most waterless regions and the
densest scrubs, and live entirely without water.

<p>This bird is figured in Gould's work on Australian ornithology; it is
called the Leipoa ocellata. Two specimens of these birds are preserved
in the Natural History Department of the British Museum at Kensington.
We obtained six fresh eggs from it. I found another, and got five more.
We saw several native huts in the scrubs, some of them of large
dimensions, having limbs of the largest trees they could get to build
them with. When living here, the natives probably obtain water from
roots of the mulga. This must be the case, for we often see small
circular pits dug at the foot of some of these trees, which, however,
generally die after the operation of tapping. I called the spot Glen
Osborne*; we rested here a day. We always have a great deal of sewing
and repairing of the canvas pack-bags to do, and a day of rest usually
means a good day's work; it rests the horses, however, and that is the
main thing. Saturday night, the 4th October, was a delightfully cool
one, and on Sunday we started for some hills in a south-westerly
direction, passing some low ridges. We reached the higher ones in
twenty-two miles. Nearing them, we passed over some fine cotton-bush
flats, so-called from bearing a small cotton-like pod, and immediately
at the hills we camped on a piece of plain, very beautifully grassed,
and at times liable to inundation. It was late when we arrived; no water
could be found; but the day was cool, and the night promised to be so
too; and as I felt sure I should get water in these hills in the
morning, I was not very anxious on account of the horses. These hills
are similar to those lately described, being greatly impregnated with
iron and having vast upheavals of iron-coated granite, broken and lying
in masses of black and pointed rock, upon all their summits. Their sides
sloped somewhat abruptly, they were all highly magnetic, and had the
appearance of frowning, rough-faced, bastion walls. Very early I climbed
up the hills, and from the top I saw the place that was afterwards to be
our refuge, though it was a dangerous one. This is called the Cavanagh
Range, but as, in speaking of it as my depot, it was called Fort
Mueller*, I shall always refer to it by that name. What I saw was a
strong running stream in a confined rocky, scrubby glen, and smokes from
natives' fires. When bringing the horses, we had to go over less
difficult ground than I had climbed, and on the road we found another
stream in another valley, watered the horses, and did not then go to my
first find. There was fine open, grassy country all round this range; we
followed the creek down from the hills to it. On reaching the lower
grassy ground, we saw Mr. Gosse's dray-track again, and I was not
surprised to see that the wagon had returned upon its outgoing track,
and the party were now returning eastwards to South Australia. I had for
some days anticipated meeting him; but now he was going east, and I
west, I did not follow back after him. Shortly afterwards, rounding the
spurs of these hills, we came to the channel of the Fort Mueller creek,
which I had found this morning, and though there was no surface-water,
we easily obtained some by digging in the sandy creek-bed. A peculiarity
of the whole of this region is, that water cannot exist far from the
rocky foundations of the hills; the instant the valleys open and any
soil appears, down sinks the water, though a fine stream may be running
only a few yards above. Blankets were again required for the last two
nights. I found my position here to be in latitude 26&deg; 12&acute;,
longitude 127&deg; 59&acute; 0&acute;&acute;.

<p>Leaving this encampment, we struck away for a new line of ranges. The
country was very peculiar, and different from any we had yet met; it was
open, covered with tall triodia, and consisted almost entirely of
limestone. At intervals, eucalyptus-trees of the mallee kind, and a few
of the pretty-looking bloodwood-trees and some native poplars were seen;
there was no grass for several miles, and we only found some poor dry
stuff for the horses in a patch of scrub, the ground all round being
stony and triodia-set. To-day we came upon three Lowans' or native
pheasants' nests. These birds, which somewhat resemble guinea-fowl in
appearance, build extraordinarily large nests of sand, in which they
deposit small sticks and leaves; here the female lays about a dozen
eggs, the decomposition of the vegetable matter providing the warmth
necessary to hatch them. These nests are found only in thick scrubs. I
have known them five to six feet high, of a circular conical shape, and
a hundred feet round the base. The first, though of enormous size,
produced only two eggs; the second, four, and the third, six. We thanked
Providence for supplying us with such luxuries in such a wilderness.
There are much easier feats to perform than the carrying of Lowans'
eggs, and for the benefit of any readers who don't know what those eggs
are like, I may mention that they are larger than a goose egg, and of a
more delicious flavour than any other egg in the world. Their shell is
beautifully pink tinted, and so terribly fragile that, if a person is
not careful in lifting them, the fingers will crunch through the tinted
shell in an instant. Therefore, carrying a dozen of such eggs is no easy
matter. I took upon myself the responsibility of bringing our prize safe
into camp, and I accomplished the task by packing them in grass, tied up
in a handkerchief, and slung round my neck; a fine fardel hanging on my
chest, immediately under my chin. A photograph of a person with such an
appendage would scarcely lead to recognition. We used some of the eggs
in our tea as a substitute for milk. A few of the eggs proved to possess
some slight germs of vitality, the preliminary process being the
formation of eyes. But explorers in the field are not such particular
mortals as to stand upon such trifles; indeed, parboiled, youthful,
Lowans' eyes are considered quite a delicacy in the camp.

<p>At early dawn there was brilliant lightning to the west, and the
horizon in that direction became cloudy. Thunder also was heard, but
whatever storm there might have been, passed away to the south of us. In
the course of a few miles we left the limestone behind, and sandhills
again came on. We went over two low ridges, and five or six miles of
scrub brought us to the hills we were steering for. Some pine-clad bare
rocks induced us to visit them to see if there were rock-holes anywhere.
Mr. Tietkens found a native well under one of the rocks, but no water
was seen in it, so we went to the higher hills, and in a gully found but
a poor supply. There was every appearance of approaching rain, and we
got everything under canvas, but in the night of the 9th October a heavy
gale of wind sprang up and blew away any rain that might have fallen.
As, however, it was still cloudy, we remained in camp.

<p>From the highest hill here, called Mount Squires, the appearance of
the country surrounding was most strange. To the west, and round by
north-west to north, was a mass of broken timbered hills with scrubby
belts between. The atmosphere was too hazy to allow of distinct vision,
but I could distinguish lines of hills, if not ranges, to the westward
for a long distance. The view was by no means encouraging, but as hills
run on, though entirely different now from those behind us, our only
hope is that water may yet be discovered in them. The whole region round
about was enveloped in scrubs, and the hills were not much more than
visible above them.

<p>The sky had remained cloudy all yesterday, and I hoped, if the wind
would only cease, rain would surely fall; so we waited and hoped against
hope. We had powerful reverberations of thunder, and forked and vivid
lightnings played around, but no rain fell, although the atmosphere was
surcharged with electricity and moisture. The wished-for rain departed
to some far more favoured places, some happier shores from these remote;
and as if to mock our wishes, on the following morning we had nearly
three minutes' sprinkling of rain, and then the sky became clear and
bright.

<p>By this time we had used up all the water we could find, and had to
go somewhere else to get more. A terrible piece of next-to-impassable
scrub, four or five miles through, lay right in our path; it also rose
and fell into ridges and gullies in it. We saw one of the Mus conditor,
or building rats' nests, which is not the first we have seen by many on
this expedition. The scrub being so dense, it was impossible to see more
than two or three of the horses at a time, and three different times
some of them got away and tried to give us the slip; this caused a great
deal of anxiety and trouble, besides loss of time. Shortly after
emerging from the scrubs, we struck a small creek with one or two
gumtrees on it; a native well was in the bed, and we managed to get
water enough for the horses, we having only travelled six miles straight
all day. This was a very good, if not actually a pretty, encampment;
there was a narrow strip of open ground along the banks, and good
vegetation for the horses. We slept upon the sandy bed of the creek to
escape the terrible quantities of burrs which grew all over these wilds.

<p>We steered away nearly west for the highest hills we had seen
yesterday; there appeared a fall or gap between two; the scrubs were
very thick to-day, as was seen by the state of our pack-bags, an
infallible test, when we stopped for the night, during the greater part
of which we had to repair the bags. We could not find any water, and we
seemed to be getting into very desolate places. A densely scrubby and
stony gully was before us, which we had to get through or up, and on
reaching the top I was disappointed to find that, though there was an
open valley below, the hills all round seemed too much disconnected to
form any good watering places. Descending, and leaving Gibson and Jimmy
with the horses, Mr. Tietkens and I rode in different directions in
search of water. In about two hours we met, in the only likely spot
either of us had seen; this was a little watercourse, and following it
up to the foot of the hills found a most welcome and unexpectedly large
pond for such a place. Above it in the rocks were a line of little
basins which contained water, with a rather pronounced odour of
stagnation about it; above them again the water was running, but there
was a space between upon which no water was seen. We returned for the
horses and camped as near as we could find a convenient spot; this,
however, was nearly a mile from the water. The valley ran north-east and
south-west; it was very narrow, not too open, and there was but poor
grass and herbage, the greater portion of the vegetation being spinifex.
At eight o'clock at night a thunderstorm came over us from the west, and
sprinkled us with a few drops of rain; from west the storm travelled
north-west, thence north to east and south, performing a perfect circle
around; reaching its original starting point in about an hour, it
disappeared, going northerly again. The rest of the night was
beautifully calm and clear. Some of our horses required shoeing for the
first time since we had left the telegraph line, now over 600 miles
behind us. From the top of a hill here the western horizon was bounded
by low scrubby ridges, with an odd one standing higher than the rest; to
one of these I decided to go next. Some other hills lay a little more to
the south, but there was nothing to choose between them; hills also ran
along eastward and north-eastwards. At eight o'clock again to-night a
thunderstorm came up from the westward; it sprinkled us with a few drops
of rain, and then became dispersed to the south and south-east.

<p>The following day we passed in shoeing horses, mending pack-bags,
restuffing pack-saddles, and general repairs. While out after the horses
Mr. Tietkens found another place with some water, about two miles
southerly on the opposite or west side of the valley. Finishing what
work we had in hand, we remained here another day. I found that water
boiled in this valley at 209&deg;, making the approximate altitude of
this country 1534 above sea level. This we always called the Shoeing
Camp. We had remained there longer than at any other encampment since we
started; we arrived on the 14th and left on the 18th October.

<p>Getting over a low fall in the hills opposite the camp, I turned on
my proper course for another hill and travelled fifteen miles; the first
three being through very fine country, well grassed, having a good deal
of salt bush, being lightly timbered, and free from spinifex. The scrub
and triodia very soon made their appearance together, and we were forced
to camp in a miserable place, there being neither grass nor water for
the unfortunate horses.

<p>The next morning we deviated from our course on seeing a bare-looking
rocky hill to the right of our line of march; we reached it in ten
miles. Searching about, I found several small holes or cups worn into
the solid rock; and as they mostly contained water, the horses were
unpacked, while a farther search was made. This hill was always after
called the Cups. I rode away to other hills westward, and found a
fresh-looking creek, which emptied into a larger one; but I could find
nothing but brine and bitter water. For the first time on this journey I
found at this creek great quantities of that lovely flower, the desert
pea, Clianthus Dampierii. The creek ran south-westward. I searched for
hours for water without success, and returned to the party at dusk. Mr.
Tietkens had found some more water at another hill; and he and Gibson
took some of the horses over to it, leaving Jimmy alone.

<p>Jimmy walked over to one cup we had reserved for our own use, to fill
the tin-billy for tea. Walking along with his eyes on the ground, and
probably thinking of nothing at all, he reached the cup, and, to his
horror and amazement, discovered some thirty or forty aboriginals seated
or standing round the spot. As he came close up to, but without seeing
them, they all yelled at him in chorus, eliciting from him a yell in
return; then, letting fall the tin things he was carrying, he fairly ran
back to the camp, when he proceeded to get all the guns and rifles in
readiness to shoot the whole lot. But Mr. Tietkens and Gibson returning
with the horses, having heard the yells, caused the natives to decamp,
and relieved poor Jimmy's mind of its load of care and fear. No doubt
these Autocthones were dreadfully annoyed to find their little
reservoirs discovered by such water-swallowing wretches as they
doubtless thought white men and horses to be; I could only console
myself with the reflection, that in such a region as this we must be
prepared to lay down our lives at any moment in our attempts to procure
water, and we must take it when we find it at any price, as life and
water are synonymous terms. I dare say they know where to get more, but
I don't. Some natives were prowling about our encampment all the first
half of the night, and my little dog kept up an incessant barking; but
the rest was silence.

<p>We used every drop of water from every cup, and moved away for the
bitter water I found yesterday. I thought to sweeten it by opening the
place with a shovel, and baling a lot of the stagnant water out; but it
was irreclaimable, and the horses could not drink it.

<p>Mr. Tietkens returned after dark and reported he had found only one
poor place, that might yield sufficient for one drink for all the
horses; and we moved down three miles. It was then a mile up in a little
gully that ran into our creek. Here we had to dig out a large tank, but
the water drained in so slowly that only eight horses could be watered
by midday; at about three o'clock eight more were taken, and it was
night before they were satisfied; and now the first eight came up again
for more, and all the poor wretches were standing in and around the tank
in the morning. The next day was spent in doling out a few quarts of
water to each horse, while I spent the day in a fruitless search for the
fluid which evidently did not exist. Six weeks or two months ago there
must have been plenty of water here, but now it was gone; and had I been
here at that time, I have no doubt I might have passed across to the
Murchison; but now I must retreat to the Shoeing Camp. When I got back
at night, I found that not half the horses had received even their
miserable allowance of three quarts each, and the horse I had ridden far
and fast all day could get none: this was poor little W.A. of my first
expedition. One little wretched cob horse was upon the last verge of
existence; he was evidently not well, and had been falling away to a
shadow for some time; he was for ever hiding himself in the scrubs, and
caused as much trouble to look after him as all the others put together.
He was nearly dead; water was of no use to him, and his hide might be
useful in repairing some packbags, and we might save our stores for a
time by eating him; so he was despatched from this scene of woe, but not
without woeful cruelty; for Jimmy volunteered to shoot him, and walked
down the creek a few yards to where the poor little creature stood. The
possibility of any one not putting a bullet into the creature's forehead
at once, never occurred to me; but immediately after we heard the shot,
Jimmy came sauntering up and said, &ldquo;Oh! he wants another
dose.&rdquo; I jumped up and said, &ldquo;Oh, you young&mdash;&rdquo;
No, I won't say what I told Jimmy. Then Gibson offered to do it, and
with a very similar result. With suaviter in modo, sed fortiter in re, I
informed him that I did not consider him a sufficiently crack shot to
enable him to win a Wimbledon shield; and what the deuce did
he&mdash;but there, I had to shoot the poor miserable creature, who
already had two rifle bullets in his carcass, and I am sure with his
last breath he thanked me for that quick relief. There was not
sufficient flesh on his bones to cure; but we got a quantity of what
there was, and because we fried it we called it steak, and because we
called it steak we said we enjoyed it, though it was utterly tasteless.
The hide was quite rotten and useless, being as thin and flimsy as brown
paper. It was impossible now to push farther out west, and a retreat to
the Shoeing Camp had to be made, though we could not reach it in a day.
Thermometer while on this creek 99, and 100&deg; in shade. This place
was always called the Cob.

<p>We had great difficulty in driving the horses past the Cups, as the
poor creatures having got water there once, supposed it always existed
there. Some of these little indents held only a few pints of water,
others a few quarts, and the largest only a few gallons. Early the
second day we got back, but we had left so little water behind us, that
we found it nearly all gone. Six days having elapsed makes a wonderful
difference in water that is already inclined to depart with such
evaporation as is always going on in this region. We now went to where
Mr. Tietkens had found another place, and he and Gibson took the shovel
to open it out, while Jimmy and I unpacked the horses. Here Jimmy
Andrews set fire to the spinifex close to all our packs and saddles, and
a strong hot wind blowing, soon placed all our belongings in the most
terrible jeopardy. The grass was dry and thick, and the fire raged
around us in a terrific manner; guns and rifles, riding- and
pack-saddles were surrounded by flames in a moment. We ran and halloed
and turned back, and frantically threw anything we could catch hold of
on to the ground already burnt. Upsetting a couple of packs, we got the
bags to dash out the flames, and it was only by the most desperate
exertions we saved nearly everything. The instant a thing was lifted,
the grass under it seemed to catch fire spontaneously; I was on fire,
Jimmy was on fire, my brains were in a fiery, whirling blaze; and what
with the heat, dust, smoke, ashes, and wind, I thought I must be
suddenly translated to Pandemonium. Our appearance also was most
satanic, for we were both as black as demons.

<p>There was no shade; we hadn't a drop of water; and without speaking a
word, off we went up the gully to try and get a drink; there was only
just enough thick fluid for us, the horses standing disconsolately
round. The day was hot, the thermometer marked 105&deg;. There was not
sufficient water here for the horses, and I decided, as we had not
actually dug at our old camp, to return there and do so. This we did,
and obtained a sufficiency at last. We were enabled to keep the camp
here for a few days, while Mr. Tietkens and I tried to find a more
northerly route to the west. Leaving Gibson and Jimmy behind, we took
three horses and steered away for the north. Our route on this trip led
us into the most miserable country, dry ridges and spinifex, sandhills
and scrubs, which rolled along in undulations of several miles apart. We
could get no water, and camped after a day's journey of forty miles.

<p>Though the day had been very hot, the night became suddenly cool. In
the morning of the 28th of October, at five miles we arrived at a
scrubby sand ridge, and obtained a most displeasing view of the country
further north. The surface seemed more depressed, but entirely filled up
with dense scrubs, with another ridge similar to the one we were on
bounding the view; we reached it in about eight miles. The view we then
got was precisely similar to that behind us, except that the next
undulation that bounded the horizon was fifteen to eighteen miles away.
We had now come fifty-one miles from the Shoeing Camp; there was no
probability of getting water in such a region. To the west the horizon
was bounded by what appeared a perfectly flat and level line running
northwards. This flat line to the west seemed not more than twenty-five
to thirty miles away; between us and it were a few low stony hills. Not
liking the northern, I now decided to push over to the western horizon,
which looked so flat. I have said there were some stony hills in that
direction; we reached the first in twenty miles. The next was formed of
nearly bare rock, where there were some old native gunyahs. Searching
about we found another of those extraordinary basins, holes, or cups
washed out of the solid rock by ancient ocean's force, ages before an
all-seeing Providence placed His dusky children upon this scene, or even
before the waters had sufficiently subsided to permit either animal or
man to exist here. From this singular cup we obtained a sufficient
supply of that fluid so terribly scarce in this region. We had to fill a
canvas bucket with a pint pot to water our horses, and we outspanned for
the remainder of the day at this exceedingly welcome spot. There were a
few hundred acres of excellent grass land, and the horses did remarkably
well during the night. The day had been very hot; the thermometer in the
shade at this rock stood at 106&deg;.

<p>This proved a most abominable camp; it swarmed with ants, and they
kept biting us so continually, that we were in a state of perpetual
motion nearly all the time we were there. A few heat-drops of rain fell.
I was not sorry to leave the wretched place, which we left as dry as the
surrounding void. We continued our west course over sandhills and
through scrub and spinifex. The low ridges of which the western horizon
was formed, and which had formerly looked perfectly flat, was reached in
five miles; no other view could be got. A mile off was a slightly higher
point, to which we went; then the horizon, both north and west of the
same nature, ran on as far as could be seen, without any other object
upon which to rest the eye. There were a few little gullies about, which
we wasted an hour amongst in a fruitless search for water. The Bitter
Water Creek now lay south of us; I was not at all satisfied at our
retreat from it. I was anxious to find out where it went, for though we
had spent several days in its neighbourhood, we had not travelled more
than eight or ten miles down it; we might still get a bucket or two of
water for our three horses where I had killed the little cob. We
therefore turned south in hopes that we might get some satisfaction out
of that region at last. We were now, however, thirty-nine or forty miles
from the water-place, and two more from the Cob. I was most anxious on
account of the water at the Shoeing Camp; it might have become quite
exhausted by this time, and where on earth would Gibson and Jimmy go?
The thermometer again to-day stood at 106&deg; in the shade.

<p>It was late at night when we reached the Cob tank, and all the water
that had accumulated since we left was scarcely a bucketful.

<p>Though the sky was quite overcast, and rain threatened to fall nearly
all night, yet none whatever came. The three horses were huddled up
round the perfectly empty tank, having probably stood there all night. I
determined to try down the creek. One or two small branches enlarged the
channel; and in six or seven miles we saw an old native well, which we
scratched out with our hands; but it was perfectly dry. At twelve miles
another creek joined from some hills easterly, and immediately below the
junction the bed was filled with green rushes. The shovel was at the
Shoeing Camp, the bed was too stony to be dug into with our hands. Below
this again another and larger creek joined from the east, or rather our
creek ran into it. There were some large holes in the new bed, but all
were dry. We now followed up this new channel eastwards, as our horses
were very bad, and this was in the direction of the home camp. We
searched everywhere, up in hills and gullies, and down into the creek
again, but all without success, and we had a waterless camp once more.
The horses were now terribly bad, they have had only the third of a
bucket of water since Wednesday, it being now Friday morning. We had
still thirty miles to go to reach the camp, and it was late when the
poor unfortunate creatures dragged themselves into it. Fortunately the
day had been remarkably cool, almost cold, the thermometer only rose to
80&deg; in the shade. The water had held out well, and it still drained
into the tank.

<p>On the following morning, the 1st November, the thermometer actually
descended to 32&deg;, though of course there was neither frost nor ice,
because there was nothing fluid or moist to freeze. I do not remember
ever feeling such a sensation of intense cold. The day was delightfully
cool; I was most anxious to find out if any water could be got at the
junction of the two creeks just left. Mr. Tietkens and Gibson took three
fresh horses, and the shovel, on Monday, the 3rd of November, and
started out there again.

<p>Remaining at the camp was simple agony, the ants were so numerous and
annoying; a strong wind was blowing from the eastwards, and the camp was
in a continual cloud of sand and dust.

<p>The next day was again windy and dusty, but not quite so hot as
yesterday. Jimmy and I and the two dogs were at the camp. He had a habit
of biting the dogs' noses, and it was only when they squealed that I saw
what he was doing; to-day Cocky was the victim. I said, &ldquo;What the
deuce do you want to be biting the dog's nose for, you might seriously
injure his nasal organ?&rdquo; &ldquo;Horgin,&rdquo; said Jimmy,
&ldquo;do you call his nose a horgin?&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;Yes, any
part of the body of man or animal is called an organ.&rdquo;
&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I never knew that dogs carried
horgins about with them before.&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;Well, they do, and
don't you go biting any of them again.&rdquo; Jimmy of course, my reader
can see, was a queer young fellow. On one occasion further back, a good
many crows were about, and they became the subject of discussion. I
remarked, &ldquo;I've travelled about in the bush as much as most
people, and I never yet saw a little crow that couldn't fly;&rdquo; then
Jimmy said, &ldquo;Why, when we was at the Birthday, didn't I bring a
little crow hin a hague hin?&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;What's hin a hague
hin?&rdquo; To which he replied, &ldquo;I didn't say <i>hin a hague
hin,</i> I says <i>Hand her hague hin.</i>&rdquo; After this, whenever
we went hunting for water, and found it, if there was a sufficient
quantity for us we always said, &ldquo;Oh, there's enough to boil a
hague in anyhow.&rdquo; Late in the evening of the next day, Jimmy and I
were watching at the tank for pigeons, when the three horses Mr.
Tietkens took away came up to drink; this of course informed me they had
returned. The horses looked fearfully hollow, and I could see at a
glance that they could not possibly have had any water since they left.
Mr. Tietkens reported that no water was to be got anywhere, and the
country to the west appeared entirely waterless.

<p>I was, however, determined to make one more attempt. Packing two
horses with water, I intended to carry it out to the creek, which is
forty miles from here. At that point I would water one horse, hang the
remainder of the water in a tree, and follow the creek channel to see
what became of it. I took Gibson and Jimmy, Mr. Tietkens remaining at
the camp. On arriving at the junction of the larger creek, we followed
down the channel and in five miles, to my great surprise, though the
traveller in these regions should be surprised at nothing, we completely
ran the creek out, as it simply ended among triodia, sandhills, and
scrubby mulga flats. I was greatly disappointed at this turn of affairs,
as I had thought from its size it would at least have led me to some
water, and to the discovery of some new geographical features. Except
where we struck it, the country had all been burnt, and we had to return
to that spot to get grass to camp at. Water existed only in the bags
which we carried with us. I gave the horse I intend riding to-morrow a
couple of buckets of water. I suppose he would have drank a
dozen&mdash;the others got none. The three of us encamped together here.

<hr>

<h4><a name="ch2.5">CHAPTER 2.5. FROM 9TH NOVEMBER TO 23RD DECEMBER, 1873.</a></h4>
<blockquote>
Alone.
Native signs.
A stinking pit.
Ninety miles from water.
Elder's Creek.
Hughes's Creek.
The Colonel's range.
Rampart-like range.
Hills to the north-east.
Jamieson's range.
Return to Fort Mueller.
Rain.
Start for the Shoeing Camp once more.
Lightning Rock.
Nothing like leather.
Pharaoh's inflictions.
Photophobists.
Hot weather.
Fever and philosophy.
Tietkens's tank.
Gibson taken ill.
Mysterious disappearance of water.
Earthquake shock.
Concussions and falling rocks.
The glen.
Cut an approach to the water.
Another earthquake shock.
A bough-house.
Gardens.
A journey northwards.
Pine-clad hills.
New line of ranges.
Return to depot.
</blockquote>
<p>The following day was Sunday, the 9th of November, but was not a day
of rest to any of us. Gibson and Jimmy started back with the packhorses
for the Shoeing Camp, while I intended going westward, westward, and
alone! I gave my horse another drink, and fixed a water-bag, containing
about eight gallons, in a leather envelope up in a tree; and started
away like errant knight on sad adventure bound, though unattended by any
esquire or shield-bearer. I rode away west, over open triodia sandhills,
with occasional dots of scrub between, for twenty miles. The horizon to
the west was bounded by open, undulating rises of no elevation, but
whether of sand or stone I could not determine. At this distance from
the creek the sandhills mainly fell off, and the country was composed of
ground thickly clothed with spinifex and covered all over with brown
gravel. I gave my horse an hour's rest here, with the thermometer at
102&deg; in the shade. There was no grass, and not being possessed of
organs that could digest triodia he simply rested. On starting again,
the hills I had left now almost entirely disappeared, and looked
flattened out to a long low line. I travelled over many miles of burnt,
stony, brown, gravelly undulations; at every four or five miles I
obtained a view of similar country beyond; at thirty-five miles from the
creek the country all round me was exactly alike, but here, on passing a
rise that seemed a little more solid than the others, I noticed in a
kind of little valley some signs of recent native encampments; and the
feathers of birds strewn about&mdash;there were hawks', pigeons', and
cockatoos' feathers. I rode towards them, and right under my horse's
feet I saw a most singular hole in the ground. Dismounting, I found it
was another of those extraordinary cups from whence the natives obtain
water. This one was entirely filled up with boughs, and I had great
difficulty in dragging them out, when I perceived that this orifice was
of some depth and contained some water; but on reaching up a drop, with
the greatest difficulty, in my hand, I found it was quite putrid;
indeed, while taking out the boughs my nasal horgin, as Jimmy would call
it, gave me the same information.

<h5><a name="i18">ILLUSTRATION 18</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t18.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>THE STINKING PIT.</h5>

<p>I found the hole was choked up with rotten leaves, dead animals,
birds, and all imaginable sorts of filth. On poking a stick down into
it, seething bubbles aerated through the putrid mass, and yet the
natives had evidently been living upon this fluid for some time; some of
the fires in their camp were yet alight. I had very great difficulty in
reaching down to bale any of this fluid into my canvas bucket. My horse
seemed anxious to drink, but one bucketful was all he could manage.
There was not more than five or six buckets of water in this hole; it
made me quite sick to get the bucketful for the horse. There were a few
hundred acres of silver grass in the little valley near, and as my horse
began to feed with an apparent relish, I remained here, though I
anticipated at any moment seeing a number of natives make their
appearance. I said to myself, &ldquo;Come one, come all, this rock shall
fly from its firm base as soon as I.&rdquo; No enemies came, and I
passed the night with my horse feeding quietly close to where I lay. To
this I attributed my safety.

<p>Long before sunrise I was away from this dismal place, not giving my
horse any more of the disgusting water. In a mile or two I came to the
top of one of those undulations which at various distances bound the
horizon. They are but swells a little higher than the rest of the
country. How far this formation would extend was the question, and what
other feature that lay beyond, at which water could be obtained, was a
difficult problem to solve. From its appearance I was compelled to
suppose that it would remain unaltered for a very considerable distance.
From this rise all I could see was another; this I reached in nine
miles. Nearly all the country hereabout had been burnt, but not very
recently. The ground was still covered with gravel, with here and there
small patches of scrub, the country in general being very good for
travelling. I felt sure it would be necessary to travel 150 miles at
least before a watered spot could be found. How ardently I wished for a
camel; for what is a horse where waters do not exist except at great
distances apart? I pushed on to the next rising ground, ten miles, being
nearly twenty from where I had camped. The view from here was precisely
similar to the former ones. My horse had not travelled well this
morning, he seemed to possess but little pluck. Although he was fat
yesterday, he is literally poor now. This horse's name was Pratt; he was
a poor weak creature, and died subsequently from thirst. I am afraid the
putrid water has made him ill, for I have had great difficulty in
getting him to go. I turned him out here for an hour at eleven o'clock,
when the thermometer indicated 102&deg; in the shade. The horse simply
stood in the shade of a small belt of mulga, but he would not try to
eat. To the south about a mile there was apparently a more solid rise,
and I walked over to it, but there was no cup either to cheer or
inebriate. I was now over fifty miles from my water-bag, which was
hanging in a tree at the mercy of the winds and waves, not to mention
its removal by natives, and if I lost that I should probably lose my
life as well. I was now ninety miles from the Shoeing Camp, and unless I
was prepared to go on for another hundred miles; ten, fifteen, twenty,
or fifty would be of little or no use. It was as much as my horse would
do to get back alive. From this point I returned. The animal went so
slowly that it was dusk when I got back to the Cup, where I observed, by
the removal of several boughs, that natives had been here in my absence.
They had put a lot of boughs back into the hole again. I had no doubt
they were close to me now, and felt sure they were watching me and my
movements with lynx-like glances from their dark metallic eyes. I looked
upon my miserable wretch of a horse as a safeguard from them. He would
not eat, but immediately hobbled off to the pit, and I was afraid he
would jump in before I could stop him, he was so eager for drink. It was
an exceedingly difficult operation to get water out of this abominable
hole, as the bucket could not be dipped into it, nor could I reach the
frightful fluid at all without hanging my head down, with my legs
stretched across the mouth of it, while I baled the foetid mixture into
the bucket with one of my boots, as I had no other utensil. What with
the position I was in and the horrible odour which rose from the
seething fluid, I was seized with violent retching. The horse gulped
down the first half of the bucket with avidity, but after that he would
only sip at it, and I was glad enough to find that the one bucketful I
had baled out of the pit was sufficient. I don't think any consideration
would have induced me to bale out another.

<p>Having had but little sleep, I rode away at three o'clock next
morning. The horse looked wretched and went worse. It was past midday
when I had gone twenty miles, when, entering sandhill country, I was
afraid he would knock up altogether. After an hour and a half's rest he
seemed better; he walked away almost briskly, and we reached the
water-bag much earlier than I expected. Here we both had a good drink,
although he would have emptied the bag three times over if he could have
got it. The day had been hot.

<p>When I left this singular watercourse, where plenty of water existed
in its upper portions, but was either too bitter or too salt for use, I
named it Elder's Creek. The other that joins it I called Hughes's Creek,
and the range in which they exist the Colonel's Range.

<p>There was not much water left for the horse. He was standing close to
the bag for some hours before daylight. He drank it up and away we went,
having forty miles to go. I arrived very late. Everything was well
except the water supply, and that was gradually ceasing. In a week there
will be none. The day had been pleasant and cool.

<p>Several more days were spent here, re-digging and enlarging the old
tank and trying to find a new. Gibson and I went to some hills to the
south, with a rampart-like face. The place swarmed with pigeons, but we
could find no water. We could hear the birds crooning and cooing in all
directions as we rode, &ldquo;like the moan of doves in immemorial elms,
and the murmurings of innumerable bees.&rdquo; This rampart-like ridge
was festooned with cypress pines, and had there been water there, I
should have thought it a very pretty place. Every day was telling upon
the water at the camp. We had to return unsuccessful, having found none.
The horses were loose, and rambled about in several mobs and all
directions, and at night we could not get them all together. The water
was now so low that, growl as we may, go we must. It was five p.m. on
the 17th of November when we left. The nearest water now to us that I
knew of was at Fort Mueller, but I decided to return to it by a
different route from that we had arrived on, and as some hills lay
north-easterly, and some were pretty high, we went away in that
direction.

<p>We travelled through the usual poor country, and crossed several dry
water-channels. In one I thought to get a drink for the horses. The
party having gone on, I overtook them and sent Gibson back with the
shovel. We brought the horses back to the place, but he gave a very
gloomy opinion of it. The supply was so poor that, after working and
watching the horses all night, they could only get a bucketful each by
morning, and I was much vexed at having wasted time and energy in such a
wretched spot, which we left in huge disgust, and continued on our
course. Very poor regions were traversed, every likely-looking spot was
searched for water. I had been steering for a big hill from the Shoeing
Camp; a dry creek issued from its slopes. Here the hills ceased in this
northerly direction, only to the east and south-east could ranges be
seen, and it is only in them that water can be expected in this region.
Fort Mueller was nearly fifty miles away, on a bearing of 30&deg; south
of east. We now turned towards it. A detached, jagged, and
inviting-looking range lay a little to the east of north-east; it
appeared similar to the Fort Mueller hills. I called it Jamieson's*
Range, but did not visit it. Half the day was lost in useless searching
for water, and we encamped without any; thermometer 104&deg; at ten a.m.
At night we camped on an open piece of spinifex country. We had thunder
and lightning, and about six heat-drops of rain fell.

<p>The next day we proceeded on our course for Fort Mueller; at twelve
miles we had a shower of rain, with thunder and lightning, that lasted a
few seconds only. We were at a bare rock, and had the rain lasted with
the same force for only a minute, we could have given our horses a drink
upon the spot, but as it was we got none. The horses ran all about
licking the rock with their parched tongues.

<p>Late at night we reached our old encampment, where we had got water
in the sandy bed of the creek. It was now no longer here, and we had to
go further up. I went on ahead to look for a spot, and returning, met
the horses in hobbles going up the creek, some right in the bed. I
intended to have dug a tank for them, but the others let them go too
soon. I consoled myself by thinking that they had only to go far enough,
and they would get water on the surface. With the exception of the one
bucket each, this was their fourth night without water. The sky was now
as black as pitch; it thundered and lightened, and there was every
appearance of a fall of rain, but only a light mist or heavy dew fell
for an hour or two; it was so light and the temperature so hot that we
all lay without a rag on till morning.

<p>At earliest dawn Mr. Tietkens and I took the shovel and walked to
where we heard the horsebells. Twelve of the poor animals were lying in
the bed of the creek, with limbs stretched out as if dead, but we were
truly glad to find they were still alive, though some of them could not
get up. Some that were standing up were working away with their hobbled
feet the best way they could, stamping out the sand trying to dig out
little tanks, and one old stager had actually reached the water in his
tank, so we drove him away and dug out a proper place. We got all the
horses watered by nine o'clock. It was four a.m. when we began to dig,
and our exercise gave us an excellent appetite for our breakfast. Gibson
built a small bough gunyah, under which we sat, with the thermometer at
102&deg;.

<p>In the afternoon the sky became overcast, and at six p.m. rain
actually began to fall heavily, but only for a quarter of an hour,
though it continued to drip for two or three hours. During and after
that we had heavy thunder and most vivid lightnings. The thermometer at
nine fell to 48&deg;; in the sun to-day it had been 176&deg;, the
difference being 128&deg; in a few hours, and we thought we should be
frozen stiff where we stood. A slight trickle of surface water came down
the creek channel. The rain seemed to have come from the west, and I
resolved to push out there again and see. This was Friday; a day's rest
was actually required by the horses, and the following day being Sunday,
we yet remained.

<p>MONDAY, 24TH NOVEMBER.

<p>We had thunder, lightnings, and sprinklings of rain again during last
night. We made another departure for the Shoeing Camp and Elder's Creek.
At the bare rock previously mentioned, which was sixteen miles en route
30&deg; north of west, we found the rain had left sufficient water for
us, and we camped. The native well was full, and water also lay upon the
rock. The place now seemed exceedingly pretty, totally different from
its original appearance, when we could get no water at it. How wonderful
is the difference the all-important element creates! While we were here
another thunderstorm came up from the west and refilled all the basins,
which the horses had considerably reduced. I called this the Lightning
Rock, as on both our visits the lightning played so vividly around us.
Just as we were starting, more thunder and lightnings and five minutes'
rain came.

<p>From here I steered to the one-bucket tank, and at one place actually
saw water lying upon the ground, which was a most extraordinary
circumstance. I was in great hopes the country to the west had been well
visited by the rains. The country to-day was all dense scrubs, in which
we saw a Mus conditor's nest. When in these scrubs I always ride in
advance with a horse's bell fixed on my stirrup, so that those behind,
although they cannot see, may yet hear which way to come. Continually
working this bell has almost deprived me of the faculty of hearing; the
constant passage of the horses through these direful scrubs has worn out
more canvas bags than ever entered into my calculations. Every night
after travelling, some, if not all the bags, are sure to be ripped,
causing the frequent loss of flour and various small articles that get
jerked out. This has gone on to such an extent that every ounce of twine
has been used up; the only supply we can now get is by unravelling some
canvas. Ourselves and our clothes, as well as our pack-bags, get
continually torn also. Any one in future traversing these regions must
be equipped entirely in leather; there must be leather shirts and
leather trousers, leather hats, leather heads, and leather hearts, for
nothing else can stand in a region such as this.

<p>We continued on our course for the one-bucket place; but searching
some others of better appearance, I was surprised to find that not a
drop of rain had fallen, and I began to feel alarmed that the Shoeing
Camp should also have been unvisited. One of the horses was unwell, and
concealed himself in the scrubs; some time was lost in recovering him.
As it was dark and too late to go on farther, we had to encamp without
water, nor was there any grass.

<p>The following day we arrived at the old camp, at which there had been
some little rain. The horses were choking, and rushed up the gully like
mad; we had to drive them into a little yard we had made when here
previously, as a whole lot of them treading into the tank at once might
ruin it for ever. The horse that hid himself yesterday knocked up
to-day, and Gibson remained to bring him on; he came four hours after
us, though we only left him three miles away. There was not sufficient
water in the tank for all the horses; I was greatly grieved to find that
so little could be got.

<p>The camp ground had now become simply a moving mass of ants; they
were bad enough when we left, but now they were frightful; they swarmed
over everything, and bit us to the verge of madness. It is eleven days
since we left this place, and now having returned, it seems highly
probable that I shall soon be compelled to retreat again. Last night the
ants were unbearable to Mr. Tietkens and myself, but Gibson and Jimmy do
not appear to lose any sleep on their account. With the aid of a quart
pot and a tin dish I managed to get some sort of a bath; but this is a
luxury the traveller in these regions must in a great measure learn to
do without. My garments and person were so perfumed with smashed ants,
that I could almost believe I had been bathing in a vinegar cask. It was
useless to start away from here with all the horses, without knowing
how, or if any, rains had fallen out west. I therefore despatched Mr.
Tietkens and Jimmy to take a tour round to all our former places. At
twenty-five miles was the almost bare rocky hill which I called par
excellence the Cups, from the number of those little stone indentures
upon its surface, which I first saw on the 19th of October, this being
the 29th of November. If no water was there, I directed Mr. Tietkens
then only to visit Elder's Creek and return; for if there was none at
the Cups, there would be but little likelihood of any in other places.

<p>Gibson and I had a most miserable day at the camp. The ants were
dreadful; the hot winds blew clouds of sandy dust all through and over
the place; the thermometer was at 102&deg;. We repaired several
pack-bags. A few mosquitoes for variety paid us persistent attentions
during the early part of the night; but their stings and bites were
delightful pleasures compared to the agonies inflicted on us by the
myriads of small black ants. Another hot wind and sand-dust day; still
sewing and repairing pack-bags to get them into something like order and
usefulness.

<p>At one p.m. Mr. Tietkens returned from the west, and reported that
the whole country in that direction had been entirely unvisited by
rains, with the exception of the Cups, and there, out of several dozen
rocky indents, barely sufficient water for their three horses could be
got. Elder's Creek, the Cob tank, the Colonel's Range, Hughes's Creek,
and all the ranges lying between here and there, the way they returned,
were perfectly dry, not a drop of moisture having fallen in all that
region. Will it evermore be thus? Jupiter impluvius? Thermometer to-day
106&deg; in shade. The water supply is so rapidly decreasing that in two
days it will be gone. This is certainly not a delightful position to
hold, indeed it is one of the most horrible of imaginable encampments.
The small water supply is distant about a mile from the camp, and we
have to carry it down in kegs on a horse, and often when we go for it,
we find the horses have just emptied and dirtied the tank. We are eaten
alive by flies, ants, and mosquitoes, and our existence here cannot be
deemed a happy one. Whatever could have obfuscated the brains of Moses,
when he omitted to inflict Pharaoh with such exquisite torturers as
ants, I cannot imagine. In a fiery region like to this I am photophobist
enough to think I could wallow at ease, in blissful repose, in darkness,
amongst cool and watery frogs; but ants, oh ants, are frightful! Like
Othello, I am perplexed in the extreme&mdash;rain threatens every day, I
don't like to go and I can't stay. Over some hills Mr. Tietkens and I
found an old rocky native well, and worked for hours with shovel and
levers, to shift great boulders of rock, and on the 4th of December we
finally left the deceitful Shoeing Camp&mdash;never, I hope, to return.
The new place was no better; it was two and a half miles away, in a
wretched, scrubby, rocky, dry hole, and by moving some monstrous rocks,
which left holes where they formerly rested, some water drained in, so
that by night the horses were all satisfied. There was a hot, tropical,
sultry feeling in the atmosphere all day, though it was not actually so
hot as most days lately; some terrific lightnings occurred here on the
night of the 5th of December, but we heard no thunder. On the 6th and
7th Mr. Tietkens and I tried several places to the eastwards for water,
but without success. At three p.m. of the 7th, we had thunder and
lightning, but no rain; thermometer 106&deg;. On returning to camp, we
were told that the water was rapidly failing, it becoming fine by
degrees and beautifully less. At night the heavens were illuminated for
hours by the most wonderful lightnings; it was, I suppose, too distant
to permit the sound of thunder to be heard. On the 8th we made sure that
rain would fall, the night and morning were very hot. We had clouds,
thunder, lightning, thermometer 112&deg; and every mortal disagreeable
thing we wanted; so how could we expect rain? but here, thanks to Moses,
or Pharaoh, or Providence, or the rocks, we were not troubled with ants.
The next day we cleared out; the water was gone, so we went also. The
thermometer was 110&deg; in the shade when we finally left these
miserable hills. We steered away again for Fort Mueller, via the
Lightning Rock, which was forty-five miles away. We traversed a country
nearly all scrub, passing some hills and searching channels and gullies
as we went. We only got over twenty-one miles by night; I had been very
unwell for the last three or four days, and to-day I was almost too ill
to sit on my horse; I had fever, pains all over, and a splitting
headache. The country being all scrub, I was compelled as usual to ride
with a bell on my stirrup. Jingle jangle all day long; what with heat,
fever, and the pain I was in, and the din of that infernal bell, I
really thought it no sin to wish myself out of this world, and into a
better, cooler, and less noisy one, where not even:&mdash;

<p class="poem">&ldquo;To heavenly harps the angelic choir,
<br>Circling the throne of the eternal King; &ldquo;

<p>should:&mdash;

<p class="poem">&ldquo;With hallowed lips and holy fire,
<br>Rejoice their hymns of praise to sing;&rdquo;

<p>which revived in my mind vague opinions with regard to our notions of heaven. If only to sit for ever singing hymns before Jehovah's throne is to be the future occupation of our souls, it is doubtful if the thought should be so pleasing, as the opinions of Plato and other philosophers, and which Addison has rendered to us thus:&mdash;

<p class="poem">&ldquo;Eternity, thou pleasing, dreadful thought,
<br>Through what variety of untried being,
<br>Through what new scenes and changes must we pass
<br>The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before me,&rdquo; etc.

<p>But I am trenching upon debatable ground, and have no desire to enter
an argument upon the subject. It is doubtless better to believe the
tenets taught us in our childhood, than to seek at mature age to unravel
a mystery which it is self-evident the Great Creator never intended that
man in this state of existence should become acquainted with. However,
I'll say no more on such a subject, it is quite foreign to the matter of
my travels, and does not ease my fever in any way&mdash;in fact it
rather augments it.

<p>The next morning, the 10th, I was worse, and it was agony to have to
rise, let alone to ride. We reached the Lightning Rock at three p.m.,
when the thermometer indicated 110&deg;. The water was all but gone from
the native well, but a small quantity was obtained by digging. I was too
ill to do anything. A number of native fig-trees were growing on this
rock, and while Gibson was using the shovel, Mr. Tietkens went to get
some for me, as he thought they might do me good. It was most fortunate
that he went, for though he did not get any figs, he found a fine rock
water-hole which we had not seen before, and where all the horses could
drink their fill. I was never more delighted in my life. The thought of
moving again to-morrow was killing&mdash;indeed I had intended to
remain, but this enabled us all to do so. It was as much as I could do
to move even the mile, to where we shifted our camp; thermometer
108&deg;. By the next day, 12th, the horses had considerably reduced the
water, and by to-morrow it will be gone. This basin would be of some
size were it cleaned out; we could not tell what depth it was, as it is
now almost entirely filled with the debris of ages. Its shape is
elliptical, and is thirty feet long by fifteen broad, its sides being
even more abrupt than perpendicular&mdash;that is to say, shelving
inwards&mdash;and the horses could only water by jumping down at one
place. There was about three feet of water, the rest being all soil.
To-day was much cooler. I called this Tietkens's Tank. On the 14th, the
water was gone, the tank dry, and all the horses away to the east, and
it was past three when they were brought back. Unfortunately, Gibson's
little dog Toby followed him out to-day and never returned. After we
started I sent Gibson back to await the poor pup's return, but at night
Gibson came without Toby; I told him he could have any horses he liked
to go back for him to-morrow, and I would have gone myself only I was
still too ill. During the night Gibson was taken ill just as I had been;
therefore poor Toby was never recovered. We have still one little dog of
mine which I bought in Adelaide, of the same kind as Toby, that is to
say, the small black-and-tan English terrier, though I regret to say he
is decidedly not, of the breed of that Billy indeed, who used to kill
rats for a bet; I forget how many one morning he ate, but you'll find it
in sporting books yet. It was very late when we reached our old bough
gunyah camp; there was no water. I intended going up farther, but, being
behind, Mr. Tietkens and Jimmy had began to unload, and some of the
horses were hobbled out when I arrived; Gibson was still behind. For the
second time I have been compelled to retreat to this range; shall I ever
get away from it? When we left the rock, the thermometer indicated
110&deg; in the shade.

<p>Next morning I was a little better, but Gibson was very
ill&mdash;indeed I thought he was going to die, and would he had died
quietly there. Mr. Tietkens and I walked up the creek to look for the
horses. We found and took about half of them to the surface water up in
the narrow glen. When we arrived, there was plenty of water running
merrily along the creek channel, and there were several nice ponds full,
but when we brought the second lot to the place an hour and a half
afterwards, the stream had ceased to flow, and the nice ponds just
mentioned were all but empty and dry. This completely staggered me to
find the drainage cease so suddenly. The day was very hot, 110&deg;,
when we returned to camp.

<p>I was in a state of bewilderment at the thought of the water having
so quickly disappeared, and I was wondering where I should have to
retreat to next, as it appeared that in a day or two there would
literally be no water at all. I felt ill again from my morning's walk,
and lay down in the 110&deg; of shade, afforded by the bough gunyah
which Gibson had formerly made.

<p>I had scarcely settled myself on my rug when a most pronounced shock
of earthquake occurred, the volcanic wave, which caused a sound like
thunder, passing along from west to east right under us, shook the
ground and the gunyah so violently as to make me jump up as though
nothing was the matter with me. As the wave passed on, we heard up in
the glen to the east of us great concussions, and the sounds of smashing
and falling rocks hurled from their native eminences rumbling and
crashing into the glen below. The atmosphere was very still to-day, and
the sky clear except to the deceitful west.

<p>Gibson is still so ill that we did not move the camp. I was in a
great state of anxiety about the water supply, and Tietkens and I walked
first after the horses, and then took them up to the glen, where I was
enchanted to behold the stream again in full flow, and the sheets of
surface water as large, and as fine as when we first saw them yesterday.
I was puzzled at this singular circumstance, and concluded that the
earthquake had shaken the foundations of the hills, and thus forced the
water up; but from whatsoever cause it proceeded, I was exceedingly glad
to see it. To-day was much cooler than yesterday. At three p.m. the same
time of day, we had another shock of earthquake similar to that of
yesterday, only that the volcanic wave passed along a little northerly
of the camp, and the sounds of breaking and falling rocks came from over
the hills to the north-east of us.

<p>Gibson was better on the 17th, and we moved the camp up into the glen
where the surface water existed. We pitched our encampment upon a small
piece of rising ground, where there was a fine little pool of water in
the creek bed, partly formed of rocks, over which the purling streamlet
fell, forming a most agreeable little basin for a bath.

<p>The day was comparatively cool, 100&deg;. The glen here is almost
entirely choked up with tea-trees, and we had to cut great quantities of
wood away so as to approach the water easily. The tea-tree is the only
timber here for firewood; many trees are of some size, being seven or
eight inches through, but mostly very crooked and gnarled. The green
wood appears to burn almost as well as the dead, and forms good ash for
baking dampers. Again to-day we had our usual shock of earthquake and at
the usual time. Next day at three p.m., earthquake, quivering hills,
broken and toppling rocks, with scared and agitated rock wallabies. This
seemed a very ticklish, if not extremely dangerous place for a depot.
Rocks overhung and frowned down upon us in every direction; a very few
of these let loose by an earthquake would soon put a period to any
further explorations on our part. We passed a great portion of to-day
(18th) in erecting a fine large bough-house; they are so much cooler
than tents. We also cleared several patches of rich brown soil, and made
little Gardens (de Plantes), putting in all sorts of garden and other
seeds. I have now discovered that towards afternoon, when the heat is
greatest the flow of water ceases in the creek daily; but at night,
during the morning hours and up to about midday, the little stream flows
murmuring on over the stones and through the sand as merrily as one can
wish. Fort Mueller cannot be said to be a pretty spot, for it is so
confined by the frowning, battlemented, fortress-like walls of black and
broken hills, that there is scarcely room to turn round in it, and
attacks by the natives are much to be dreaded here.

<p>We have had to clear the ground round our fort of the stones and huge
bunches of triodia which we found there. The slopes of the hills are
also thickly clothed with this dreadful grass. The horses feed some
three or four miles away on the fine open grassy country which, as I
mentioned before, surrounds this range. The herbage being so excellent
here, the horses got so fresh, we had to build a yard with the tea-tree
timber to run them in when we wanted to catch any. I still hope rain
will fall, and lodge at Elder's Creek, a hundred miles to the west, so
as to enable me to push out westward again. Nearly every day the sky is
overcast, and rain threatens to fall, especially towards the north,
where a number of unconnected ridges or low ranges lie. Mr. Tietkens and
I prepared to start northerly to-morrow, the 20th, to inspect them.

<p>We got out in that direction about twenty miles, passed near a hill I
named Mount Scott*, and found a small creek, but no water. The country
appeared to have been totally unvisited by rains.

<p>We carried some water in a keg for ourselves, but the horses got
none. The country passed over to-day was mostly red sandhills, recently
burnt, and on that account free from spinifex. We travelled about north,
40&deg; east. We next steered away for a dark-looking, bluff-ending
hill, nearly north-north-east. Before arriving at it we searched among a
lot of pine-clad hills for water without effect, reaching the hill in
twenty-two miles. Resting our horses, we ascended the hill; from it I
discovered, with glasses, that to the north and round easterly and
westerly a number of ranges lay at a very considerable distance. The
nearest, which lay north, was evidently sixty or seventy miles off.
These ranges appeared to be of some length, but were not sufficiently
raised above the ocean of scrubs, which occupied the intervening spaces,
and rose into high and higher undulations, to allow me to form an
opinion with regard to their altitude. Those east of north appeared
higher and farther away, and were bolder and more pointed in outline.
None of them were seen with the naked eye at first, but, when once seen
with the field-glasses, the mind's eye would always represent them to
us, floating and faintly waving apparently skywards in their vague and
distant mirage. This discovery instantly created a burning desire in
both of us to be off and reach them; but there were one or two
preliminary determinations to be considered before starting. We are now
nearly fifty miles from Fort Mueller, and the horses have been all one
day, all one night, and half to-day without water. There might certainly
be water at the new ranges, but then again there might not, and although
they were at least sixty miles off, our horses might easily reach them.
If, however, no water were found, they and perhaps we could never
return. My reader must not confound a hundred miles' walk in this region
with the same distance in any other. The greatest walker that ever
stepped would find more than his match here. In the first place the feet
sink in the loose and sandy soil, in the second it is densely covered
with the hideous porcupine; to avoid the constant prickings from this
the walker is compelled to raise his feet to an unnatural height; and
another hideous vegetation, which I call sage-bush, obstructs even more,
although it does not pain so much as the irritans. Again, the ground
being hot enough to burn the soles off one's boots, with the thermometer
at something like 180&deg; in the sun, and the choking from thirst at
every movement of the body, is enough to make any one pause before he
foolishly gets himself into such a predicament. Discretion in such a
case is by far the better part of valour&mdash;for valour wasted upon
burning sands to no purpose is like love's labour lost.

<p>Close about in all directions, except north, were broken masses of
hills, and we decided to search among them for a new point of departure.
We re-saddled our horses, and searched those nearest, that is to say
easterly; but no water was found, nor any place that could hold it for
an hour after it fell from the sky. Then we went north-west, to a
bare-looking hill, and others with pines ornamenting their tops; but
after travelling and searching all day, and the horses doing forty-six
miles, we had to camp again without water.

<p>In the night the thermometer went down to 62&deg;. I was so cold that
I had to light a fire to lie down by. All this day was uselessly lost in
various traverses and searchings without reward; and after travelling
forty-two miles, the unfortunate horses had to go again for the third
night without water. We were, however, nearing the depot again, and
reached it, in sixteen miles, early the next morning. Thankful enough we
were to have plenty of water to drink, a bath, and change of clothes.

<hr>

<h4><a name="ch2.6">CHAPTER 2.6. FROM 23RD DECEMBER, 1873 TO 16TH JANUARY, </a>1874.</h4>
<blockquote>
Primitive laundry.
Natives troublesome in our absence.
The ives.
Gibson's estimate of a straight heel.
Christmas day, 1873.
Attacked by natives.
A wild caroo.
Wild grapes from a sandal-wood tree.
More earthquakes.
The moon on the waters.
Another journey northwards.
Retreat to the depot.
More rain at the depot.
Jimmy's escape.
A &ldquo;canis familiaris&rdquo;.
An innocent lamb.
Sage-bush scrubs.
Groves of oak-trees.
Beautiful green flat.
Crab-hole water.
Bold and abrupt range.
A glittering cascade.
Invisibly bright water.
The murmur in the shell.
A shower bath.
The Alice Falls.
Ascend to the summit.
A strange view.
Gratified at our discoveries.
Return to Fort Mueller.
Digging with a tomahawk.
Storing water.
Wallaby for supper.
Another attack.
Gibson's gardens.
Opossums destructive.
Birds.
Thoughts.
Physical peculiarities of the region.
Haunted.
Depart.
</blockquote>
<p>The way we wash our clothes is primitive&mdash;it can only be done at
a depot. When we have sufficient water, we simply put them into it, and
leave them until we want to change again, and then do the same with
those we take off; sometimes they sweeten for several days, oftener much
less. It is an inexpensive method, which, however, I suppose I must not
claim as an invention. On the 23rd, when we arrived, Gibson informed us
that the natives had been exceedingly troublesome, and had thrown
several spears and stones down from the rocks above, so that he and
Jimmy had had to defend themselves with firearms. Our bough-house was a
great protection to them, and it appeared also that these wretches had
hunted all the horses away from their feeding ground, and they had not
been seen for three days, and not having come up to water all the time
we were away. At four p.m. we had our afternoon earthquake, and Gibson
said the shock had occurred twice during our absence. The hostility of
the natives was very annoying in more senses than one, as it would delay
me in carrying out my desire to visit the new and distant ranges north.
Christmas had been slightly anticipated by Gibson, who said he had made
and cooked a Christmas pudding, and that it was now ready for the table.
We therefore had it for dinner, and did ample justice to Gibson's
cookery. They had also shot several rock-wallabies, which abound here.
They are capital eating, especially when fried; then they have a great
resemblance to mutton.

<p>Gibson and Jimmy did not agree very well; Jimmy always had some tale
of woe to pour into my ear whenever I returned from an outside trip. He
was a very clean young fellow, but Gibson would never wash himself; and
once when Jimmy made some remark about it, Gibson said to me, &ldquo;I
can't think what you and Tietkens and Jimmy are always washing
yourselves for.&rdquo; &ldquo;Why,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;for health and
cleanliness, to be sure.&rdquo; &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;if I
was to bathe like you do, it would give me the
&lsquo;ives&raquo;.&rdquo; I often showed the others how to mend their
boots. One day, sitting in the shade of our bough-house, we were engaged
in cobbling. Gibson used to tread so unevenly on his boots that the
heels were turned nearly upwards, and he walked more on the uppers than
on the soles, therefore his required all the more repairing. Picking up
one of my boots that I had just mended, Gibson looked very hard at it,
and at last said, &ldquo;How do you manage to wear your boots so
straight?&rdquo; &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;perhaps my legs are
straight.&rdquo; He rejoined, &ldquo;Well, ain't mine straight
too?&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;I don't know; I don't see them often enough
to tell,&rdquo; alluding to his not bathing. &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he said
at last, with a deep sigh, &ldquo;By G&mdash;&rdquo;&mdash;gum, I
suppose he meant&mdash;&ldquo;I'd give a pound to be able to wear my
boots as straight as you. No, I'm damned if I wouldn't give
five-and-twenty bob!&rdquo; We laughed. We had some rolls of smoked
beef, which caused the ants to come about the camp, and we had to erect
a little table with legs in the water, to lay these on. One roll had a
slightly musty smell, and Gibson said to me, &ldquo;This roll's rotten;
shall I chuck it away?&rdquo; &ldquo;Chuck it away,&rdquo; I said;
&ldquo;why, man, you must be cranky to talk such rubbish as throwing
away food in such a region as this!&rdquo; &ldquo;Why,&rdquo; said he,
&ldquo;nobody won't eat it.&rdquo; &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said I, &ldquo;but
somebody will eat it; I for one, and enjoy it too.&rdquo; Whereupon he
looked up at me, and said, &ldquo;Oh, are you one of them as likes yer
meat 'igh?&rdquo; I was annoyed at his stupendous stupidity, and said,
&ldquo;One of them! Who are you talking about? Who are <i>they</i> I'd
like to know? When we boil this meat, if we put a piece of charcoal in
the pot, it will come out as sweet as a nut.&rdquo; He merely replied,
with a dubious expression of face, &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; but he ate his
share of it as readily as anybody else. The next day, Christmas eve, I
sent Mr. Tietkens and Gibson on two of the horses we had lately brought
back, to find the mob, which they brought home late, and said the tracks
of the natives showed that they had driven the horses away for several
miles, and they had found them near a small creek, along the south face
of the range, where there was water. While they were away some ducks
visited the camp, but the tea-tree was too thick to allow us to shoot
any of them. The day was cool, although there is a great oppression in
the atmosphere, and it is impossible to tell by one's feelings what
might be the range of the thermometer, as I have often felt it hotter on
some days with the thermometer at 96 or 98&deg; than when it ranged up
to 108 or 110&deg;. The afternoons are excessively relaxing, for
although the mercury falls a little after three o'clock, still the
morning's heat appears to remain until the sun has actually set. It is
more than probable that the horses having been hunted by the natives,
and having found more water, will not come back here of their own accord
to water any more; so I shall keep one tied up at the camp, to fetch the
others up with every morning.

<p>And now comes Thursday, 25th December, Christmas Day, 1873. Ah, how
the time flies! Years following years, steal something every day; at
last they steal us from ourselves away. What Horace says is, Eheu
fugaces, anni labuntur postume, postume:&mdash;Years glide away, and are
lost to me, lost to me.

<p>While Jimmy Andrews was away after the others, upon the horse that
was tied up all night, we were startled out of our propriety by the
howls and yells of a pack of fiends in human form and aboriginal
appearance, who had clambered up the rocks just above our camp. I could
only see some ten or a dozen in the front, but scores more were dodging
in and out among the rocks. The more prominent throng were led by an
ancient individual, who, having fitted a spear, was just in the act of
throwing it down amongst us, when Gibson seized a rifle, and presented
him with a conical Christmas box, which smote the rocks with such force,
and in such near proximity to his hinder parts, that in a great measure
it checked his fiery ardour, and induced most of his more timorous
following to climb with most perturbed activity over the rocks. The
ancient more slowly followed, and then from behind the fastness of his
rocky shield, he spoke spears and boomerangs to us, though he used none.
He, however, poured out the vials of his wrath upon us, as he probably
thought to some purpose. I was not linguist enough to be able to
translate all he said; but I am sure my free interpretation of the gist
of his remarks is correct, for he undoubtedly stigmatised us as a vile
and useless set of lazy, crawling, white-faced wretches, who came
sitting on hideous brutes of hippogryphs, being too lazy to walk like
black men, and took upon ourselves the right to occupy any country or
waters we might chance to find; that we killed and ate any wallabies and
other game we happened to see, thereby depriving him and his friends of
their natural, lawful food, and that our conduct had so incensed himself
and his noble friends, who were now in the shelter of the rocks near
him, that he begged us to take warning that it was the unanimous
determination of himself and his noble friends to destroy such vermin as
he considered us, and our horses to be, and drive us from the face of
the earth.

<p>It appeared to me, however, that his harangue required punctuation,
so I showed him the rifle again, whereupon he incontinently indulged in
a full stop. The natives then retired from those rocks, and commenced
their attack by throwing spears through the tea-tree from the opposite
side of the creek. Here we had the back of our gunyah for a shield, and
could poke the muzzles of our guns and rifles through the interstices of
the boughs. We were compelled to discharge our pieces at them to ensure
our peace and safety.

<p>Our last discharge drove away the enemy, and soon after, Jimmy came
with all the horses. Gibson shot a wallaby, and we had fried chops for
our Christmas dinner. We drew from the medical department a bottle of
rum to celebrate Christmas and victory. We had an excellent dinner (for
explorers), although we had eaten our Christmas pudding two days before.
We perhaps had no occasion to envy any one their Christmas dinner,
although perhaps we did. Thermometer 106&deg; in the shade. On this
occasion Mr. Tietkens, who was almost a professional, sang us some songs
in a fine, deep, clear voice, and Gibson sang two or three love songs,
not altogether badly; then it was Jimmy's turn. He said he didn't know
no love songs, but he would give us Tommy or Paddy Brennan. This
gentleman appears to have started in business as a highwayman in the
romantic mountains of Limerick. One verse that Jimmy gave, and which
pleased us most, because we couldn't quite understand it, was

<p class="poem">&ldquo;It was in sweet Limerick (er) citty
<br>That he left his mother dear; 
<br>And in the Limerick (er) mountains,
<br>He commenced his wild caroo-oo.&rdquo;

<p>Upon our inquiring what a caroo was, Jimmy said he didn't know. No
doubt it was something very desperate, and we considered we were perhaps
upon a bit of a wild caroo ourselves.

<p>The flies had now become a most terrible plague, especially to the
horses, but most of all to the unfortunate that happens to be tied up.
One horse, when he found he could not break away, threw himself down so
often and so violently, and hurt himself so much, that I was compelled
to let him go, unless I had allowed him to kill himself, which he would
certainly have done.

<p>A small grape-like fruit on a light green bush of the sandal-wood
kind, having one soft stone, was got here. This fruit is black when
ripe, and very good eating raw. We tried them cooked with sugar as jam,
and though the others liked them very much, I could not touch them. The
afternoons were most oppressive, and we had our usual earthquakes; one
on the 28th causing a more than usual falling of rocks and smashing of
tea-trees.

<p>For a few days I was taking a rest. I was grieved to find that the
water gradually ceased running earlier than formerly&mdash;that is to
say, between eleven and twelve&mdash;the usual time had been between two
and three p.m.; but by the morning every little basin was refilled. The
phases of the moon have evidently something to do with the water supply.
As the moon waxes, the power of the current wanes, and vice versa. On
the 1st January, 1874, the moon was approaching its full, a quarter's
change of the moon being the only time rain is likely to fall in this
country; rain is threatening now every day. After a hot and sultry
night, on the 2nd, at about two o'clock, a fine thunder-shower from the
east came over the range, and though it did not last very long, it quite
replenished the water supply in the creek, and set it running again
after it had left off work for the day. This shower has quite reanimated
my hopes, and Mr. Tietkens and I at once got three horses, and started
off to reach the distant range, hoping now to find some water which
would enable us to reach it. For ten miles from the camp the shower had
extended; but beyond that distance no signs of it were visible anywhere.
On the 4th we found a clay-pan, having a clay-hole at one end with some
mud in it, and which the natives had but just left, but no water; then
another, where, as thunderstorms were flying about in all directions, we
dug out a clay tank. While at work our clothes were damped with a
sprinkling, but not enough rain fell to leave any on the ground. It
seemed evident I must pack out water from Fort Mueller, if ever I
reached the new feature, as Nature evidently did not intend to assist,
though it seemed monstrous to have to do so, while the sky was so
densely overcast and black, and threatening thunderstorms coming up from
all directions, and carrying away, right over our heads, thousands of
cubic acres of water which must fall somewhere. I determined to wait a
few days and see the upshot of all these threatenings. To the east it
was undoubtedly raining, though to the west the sky was beautifully
clear. We returned to the native clay-pan, hoping rain might have
fallen, but it was drier than when we left it. The next morning the
clear sky showed that all the rains had departed. We deepened the native
clay-hole, and then left for the depot, and found some water in a little
hole about ten miles from it. We rested the horses while we dug a tank,
and drained all the water into it; not having a pickaxe, we could not
get down deep enough.

<p>From here I intended to pack some water out north. While we were
digging, another thunderstorm came up, sprinkling us with a few drops to
show its contempt; it then split in halves, going respectively north and
south, apparently each dropping rain on the country they passed over.

<p>On reaching the camp, we were told that two nice showers had fallen,
the stream now showing no signs of languishing all the day long. With
his usual intelligence, Jimmy Andrews had pulled a double-barrelled gun
out from under a heap of packbags and other things by the barrel; of
course, the hammer got caught and snapped down on the cartridge, firing
the contents, but most fortunately missing his body by half an inch. Had
it been otherwise, we should have found him buried, and Gibson a lunatic
and alone. No natives had appeared while we were away; as I remembered
what the old gentleman told me about keeping away, so I hoped he would
do the same, on account of my parting remarks to him, which it seems he
must have understood.

<p>In the middle of the night my little dog Cocky rushed furiously out
of the tent, and began to bark at, and chase some animal round the camp;
he eventually drove it right into the tent. In the obscured moonlight I
supposed it was a native dog, but it was white, and looked exactly like
a large fat lamb. It was, at all events, an innocent lamb to come near
us, for as it sauntered away, I sent a revolver bullet after it, and it
departed at much greater speed, squealing and howling until out of
earshot.

<p>On the 7th Mr. Tietkens and I again departed for the north. That
night we got wet through; there was plenty of water, but none that would
remain. Being sure that the native clay-hole would now be full, we
passed it on our left, and at our outmost tank at nineteen miles were
delighted to find that both it and the clay-pan near it were full. We
called this the Emu Tank. We now went to the bare red hill with pines,
previously mentioned, and found a trickling flow of water in a small
gully. I hope it will trickle till I return. We are now fifty miles from
Fort Mueller, and the distant ranges seemed even farther away than that.

<p>Moving north, we went over a mass of open-rolling sandhills with
triodia, and that other abominable plant I call the sage-bush. In
appearance it is something like low tea-tree, but it differs entirely
from that family, inasmuch as it utterly abhors water. Although it is
not spiny like the triodia, it is almost as annoying, both to horse and
man, as it grows too high for either to step over without stretching,
and it is too strong to be easily moved aside; hence, horse-tracks in
this region go zigzag.

<p>At thirty-five miles the open sandhills ceased, and scrubs came on.
It was a cool and cloudy day. We passed through a few groves of the
pretty desert oak-trees, which I have not seen for some time; a few
native poplars and currajongs were also seen to-day. The horses wandered
a long way back in the night.

<p>After travelling fifteen miles, we were now rapidly approaching the
range, and we debouched upon a eucalyptus flat, which was covered with a
beautiful carpet of verdure, and not having met with gumtrees for some
time, those we saw here, looked exceedingly fine, and the bark dazzling
white. Here we found a clay crab-hole. These holes are so-called in
parts of Australia, usually near the coasts, where freshwater crabs and
crayfish bury themselves in the bottoms of places where rain water often
lodges; the holes these creatures make are tubes of two, three, or four
feet deep, whose sides and bottom are cemented, and which hold water
like a glass bottle; in these tubes they remain till rain again lodges
above, when for a time they are released. The crab-hole we found
contained a little water, which our horses drank with great avidity. The
range was now only six or seven miles off, and it stood up bold and
abrupt, having steep and deep gorges here and there, in its southern
front. It was timberless and whitish-looking, and I had no doubt of
finding water at it. I was extremely annoyed to discover that my field
glasses, an excellent pair, had been ripped off my saddle in the scrubs,
and I should now be disappointed in obtaining any distant view from the
summit.

<p class="poem">&ldquo;They were lost to the view like the sweet morning's dew; 
<br>They had been, and were not, was all that I knew.&rdquo;

<p>From the crab-hole, in seven miles we reached a gorge in the mountain
side, travelling through scrub, over quartz, pebbly hills, and
occasional gum flats, all trending west, probably forming a creek in
that direction.

<p>In the gorge facing us we could discover a glittering little thread
of water pouring down in a cascade from the top of the mountain into the
gorge below, and upon reaching it we found, to our great delight, that
we were upon the stony bank of a beautiful and pellucid little stream,
whose almost invisibly bright water was so clear that not till our
horses splashed it up with their feet could we quite realise this
treasure trove. It was but a poor place for the horses to graze, on
account of the glen being so stony and confined, but there was no
occasion for them to ramble far to get plenty of grass, or a shady place
either. We had some dinner and a most agreeable rest,&mdash;

<p class="poem">&ldquo;'Neath the gum-trees' shade reclining,
<br>Where the dark green foliage twining,
<br>Screened us from the fervid shining
<br>Of the noontide sun.&rdquo;

<p>This spot was distant about ninety miles from Fort Mueller, in a
straight line. The day was cool and breezy. After our dinner we walked
up to the foot of the cascade, along the margin of the transparent
stream, which meandered amongst great boulders of rock; at the foot we
found the rocks rose almost perpendicularly from a charming little
basin, into which the stream from above and the spray from below mingled
with a most melodious sound, so pleasant to the ear at any time, but how
much more to our drought-accustomed senses; continually sounding like
the murmur in the sea-shell, which, as the poets say, remembering its
ancient and august abode, still murmurs as it murmured then. The water
fell from a height of 150 feet; the descent was not quite unbroken. A
delightful shower of spray fell for many yards outside the basin,
inviting to a bath, which we exquisitely enjoyed; the basin was not more
than six feet deep. I am quite delighted with this new feature. There
were gorges to the right of us, gorges to the left of us, and there was
a gorge all round us. I shall not stay now to explore them, but will
enter upon the task con amore when I bring the whole party here. I
called these the Alice Falls, after one of my sisters. It was impossible
to ascend the mountain via the cascade, so we had to flank it to reach
the top. The view from thence, though inspiriting, was still most
strange. Ranges upon ranges, some far and some near, bounded the horizon
at all points. There was a high, bold-looking, mount or range to the
north-west forty or fifty miles off. Up to a certain time we always
called this the North-West Mountain, as it bore in that direction when
first seen, until we discovered its proper name, when I christened it
Mount Destruction. Other ranges intervened much nearer. The particular
portion of the range we were now on, was 1000 feet above the surrounding
level. I found the boiling-point of water on this summit was 206&deg;,
being the same as upon the summit of the Sentinel&mdash;that is to say,
3085 feet above the sea. The country intervening between this and the
other ranges in view, appeared open and good travelling ground. The
ranges beyond this have a brownish tinge, and are all entirely different
from those at Fort Mueller. The rock formation here is a white and
pinkish conglomerate granite. All the ranges visible are entirely
timberless, and are all more or less rounded and corrugated, some having
conical summits, and some looking like enormous eggs standing up on end;
this for the first view. We descended, caught our horses, and departed
for Fort Mueller, much gratified at the discoveries already made at this
new geographical feature. On the road back I recovered my glasses. The
day was most deliciously cool, there was a sweet perfume in the air, the
morning was like one of those, so enjoyable in the spring, in the
far-off agricultural districts of the fertile portions of the southern
and eastern Colonies. When we reached the red bare hill, fifty miles
from home, we found the water had ceased to flow.

<p>At our Emu Tank all the outside surface water was gone, the tank only
holding some. Our three horses greatly reduced its volume, and, fearing
it would all evaporate before we could return, we cut a quantity of
bushes and sticks to protect it from the sun. Remounting, we now made
for the native clay-hole that we had avoided in going out. The outside
water was now all but gone, but the hole still contained some, though
not sufficient for all the horses; we set to work and chopped out
another hole with a tomahawk, and drained all the thick water off the
clay-pan into it. Then we cut boughs, bushes, and sticks to cover them,
and proceeded homewards. On reaching the ten-mile or kangaroo tank, we
found to our disgust that the water was nearly all gone, and our
original tank not large enough, so we chopped out another and drained
all the surplus water into it. Then the boughs and bushes and sticks for
a roof must be got, and by the time this was finished we were pretty
well sick of tank making. Our hands were blistered, our arms were stiff,
and our whole bodies bathed in streams of perspiration, though it was a
comparatively cool day. We reached home very late on the 13th, having
left the range on the 10th. I was glad to hear that the natives had not
troubled the camp in my absence. Another circumstance gratified us also,
and that was, Gibson had shot a large wallaby; we had not tasted meat
since we left on the 7th.

<h5><a name="i19">ILLUSTRATION 19</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t19.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>ATTACK AT FORT MUELLER.</h5>

<p>To-day, 14th, we were getting all our packs and things ready for a
start into the new and northern regions, when at eleven a.m. Mr.
Tietkens gave the alarm that all the rocks overhead were lined with
natives, who began to utter the most direful yells so soon as they found
themselves discovered. Their numbers were much larger than before, and
they were in communication with others in the tea-tree on the opposite
side of the creek, whose loud and inharmonious cries made even the
heavens to echo with their sounds. They began operations by poising
their spears and waving us away. We waited for some little time,
watching their movements, with our rifles in our hands. A flight of
spears came crashing through the flimsy sides of our house, the roof and
west gable being the only parts thickly covered, and they could see us
jumping about inside to avoid their spears. Then a flight of spears came
from the concealed enemy in the tea-tree. Mr. Tietkens and I rushed out,
and fired right into the middle of the crowd. From the rocks behind
which they hid, they sent another flight of spears; how we escaped them
I can't imagine. In the meantime Gibson and Jimmy were firing through
the boughs, and I decided that it was for us to take the aggressive. We
rushed up the rocks after the enemy, when they seemed to drop like
caterpillars, as instantaneously, they were all down underneath us right
at the camp. I was afraid they would set fire to it; we however finally
drove them from our stronghold, inducing them to decamp more or less the
worse, and leave behind them a considerable quantity of military stores,
in the shape of spears, wommerahs, waddies, wallabies' skins, owls,
fly-flappers, red ochre, and numerous other minor valuables. These we
brought in triumph to the camp. It always distressed me to have to fire
at these savages, and it was only when our lives were in most imminent
danger that we did so, for, as Iago says, though in the trade of war I
have slain men, yet do I hold it very stuff o' the conscience to do no
contrived murder. I lack iniquity, sometimes, to do me service. We then
went on with our work, though expecting our foes to return, but we were
not again molested, as they now probably thought we were vipers that
would not stand too much crowding.

<p>Three horses were missing, therefore we could not leave that day, and
when they were found on the next, it was too late to start. I tied one
of these wretches up all night, so as to get the mob early to-morrow. I
was very uneasy about the water in our tanks, as every hour's delay was
of the greatest consequence. I had no very great regret at leaving this
depot, except that I had not been able to push out more than 150 miles
to the west from it. I now thought by going to the new northern range,
that my progress thence might be easier. We may perhaps have paid the
passing tribute of a sigh at leaving our little gardens, for the seeds
planted in most of them had grown remarkably well. The plants that
throve best here were Indian gram, maize, peas, spinach, pumpkins,
beans, and cucumbers; melons also grew pretty well, with turnips and
mustard. Only two wattles out of many dozens sown here came up, and no
eucalypts have appeared, although the seeds of many different kinds were
set. Gibson had been most indefatigable in keeping the little gardens in
order, and I believe was really grieved to leave them, but the
inexorable mandates of circumstance and duty forced us from our pleasant
places, to wander into ampler realms and spaces, where no foot has left
its traces. Departing, still we left behind us some lasting memorials of
our visit to this peculiar place, which, though a city of refuge to us,
was yet a dangerous and a dreadful home. The water supply was now better
than when we arrived.

<p class="poem">&ldquo;Our fount disappearing,
<br>From the rain-drop did borrow,
<br>To me comes great cheering,
<br>I leave it to-morrow.&rdquo;

<p>There were a number of opossums here which often damaged the garden
produce in the night. There were various dull-plumaged small birds, with
hawks, crows, and occasionally ducks, and one abominable croaking
creature at night used to annoy me exceedingly, and though I often
walked up the glen I could never discover what sort of bird it was. It
might have been a raven; yes, a raven never flitting may be sitting, may
be sitting, on those shattered rocks of wretchedness&mdash;on that
Troglodytes' shore, where in spirit I may wander, o'er those arid
regions yonder; but where I wish to squander, time and energies no more.
Though a most romantic region, its toils and dangers legion, my memory
oft besieging, what time cannot restore; again I hear the shocks of the
shattering of the rocks, see the wallabies in flocks, all trembling at
the roar, of the volcanic reverberations, or seismatic detonations,
which peculiar sensations I wish to know no more. The horses were
mustered at last, and at length we were about to depart, not certainly
in the direction I should have wished to go, but still to something new.

<p>Fort Mueller, of course, was named after my kind friend the Baron*,
who was a personal contributor to the fund for this expedition. It was
really the most astonishing place it has ever been my fortune to visit.
Occasionally one would hear the metallic sounding clang, of some falling
rock, smashing into the glen below, toppled from its eminence by some
subterranean tremour or earthquake shock, and the vibrations of the
seismatic waves would precipitate the rocks into different groups and
shapes than they formerly possessed. I had many strange, almost
superstitious feelings with regard to this singular spot, for there was
always a strange depression upon my spirits whilst here, arising partly
perhaps from the constant dread of attacks from the hostile natives, and
partly from the physical peculiarities of the region itself.

<p class="poem">&ldquo;On all there hung a shadow and a fear,
<br>A sense of mystery, the spirit daunted,
<br>And said, as plain as whisper in the ear,
<br>This region's haunted.&rdquo;

<p>On the 16th we departed, leaving to the native owners of the soil,
this singular glen, where the water flowed only in the night, where the
earthquake and the dry thunderstorm occurred every day, and turned our
backs for the last time upon

<p class="poem">&ldquo;Their home by horror haunted,
<br>Their desert land enchanted,&rdquo;

<p>and plunged again into the northern wilderness.

<hr>

<h4><a name="ch2.7">CHAPTER 2.7. FROM 16TH JANUARY TO 19TH FEBRUARY, 1874.</a></h4>
<blockquote>
The Kangaroo Tanks.
Horses stampede.
Water by digging.
Staggering horses.
Deep rock-reservoir.
Glen Cumming.
Mount Russell.
Glen Gerald.
Glen Fielder.
The Alice Falls.
Separated hills.
Splendid-looking creek.
Excellent country.
The Pass of the Abencerrages.
Sladen Water.
An alarm.
Jimmy's anxiety for a date.
Mount Barlee.
Mount Buttfield.
&ldquo;Stagning&rdquo; water.
Ranges continue to the west.
A notch.
Dry rocky basins.
Horses impounded.
Desolation Glen.
Wretched night.
Terrible Billy.
A thick clump of gums.
A strong and rapid stream.
The Stemodia viscosa.
Head-first in a bog.
Leuhman's Spring.
Groener's and Tyndall's Springs.
The Great Gorge.
Fort McKellar.
The Gorge of Tarns.
Ants again.
Swim in the tarn.
View from summit of range.
Altitude.
Tatterdemalions.
An explorer's accomplishments.
Cool and shady caves.
Large rocky tarn.
The Circus.
High red sandhills to the west.
Ancient lake bed.
Burrowing wallabies.
The North-west Mountain.
Jimmy and the grog bottle.
The Rawlinson Range.
Moth- and fly-catching plant.
An inviting mountain.
Inviting valley.
Fruitless search for water.
Ascend the mountain.
Mount Robert.
Dead and dying horses.
Description of the mob.
Mount Destruction.
Reflections.
Life for water.
Hot winds.
Retreat to Sladen Water.
Wild ducks.
An ornithological lecture.
Shift the camp.
Cockatoo parrots.
Clouds of pigeons.
Dragged by Diaway.
Attacked by the natives.
</blockquote>
<p>It was late on the 16th of January when we left Fort Mueller. We
reached our first or Kangaroo Tanks in eleven miles, so called as we saw
several kangaroos there on our first visit; but only having revolvers,
we could not get near enough to shoot any of them. The water had
remained in them quite as well as I could expect, but we did not use it
that night. The horses were evidently inclined to ramble back, so we
short-hobbled them; but as soon as it became dusk, they all went off at
a gallop. Mr. Tietkens and I went after them, but the wretches would not
allow us to get up with them. The moment they heard us breaking any
sticks in the scrubs behind them, off they started again; we had to go
five or six miles before we could get hold of any of them, and it being
cloudy and dark, we hardly knew which way to drive them back; at length
we saw the reflection of a fire, and it proved we were taking them
right; it was midnight when we got back. We tied one up and waited for
morning, when we found they were all gone again, but having one to ride
we thought to get them pretty soon. It now appeared that in the scrubs
and darkness last night we had missed three. Now we had to use our tank
water, the three missing horses not being found by night. The missing
horses were found the next day, the 18th, and we continued our journey
from these now empty tanks at twelve o'clock, and reached the native
clay-pan tanks by night. The second one we had dug, though well shaded,
was quite dry, and the native hole contained only sufficient for about
half the horses. Some drank it all up, the rest going without, but we
consoled them with the assurance that they should have some when we
reached the top or Emu Tank. We wanted to fill up our own water-bags, as
our supply was exhausted. On reaching it, however, to our disgust we
found it perfectly dry, and as we couldn't get any water, the only thing
to do was to keep pushing on, as far and as fast as we could, towards
the Alice Falls. We got some water by digging in a small Grevillea
(beef-wood-tree), water-channel, about three miles this side of it. The
horses were exceedingly thirsty, and some of them when they got water
were afflicted with staggers. The grass was beautifully green. The last
few days have been comparatively cool. As the horses had two heavy days'
stages, I did not move the camp, but Mr. Tietkens and I rode off to the
main range to explore the gorges we had formerly seen to the east. The
country at the foot of the range was very stony, rough, and scrubby. We
reached the mouth of the most easterly gorge, tied up our horses, and
walked up. We very soon came upon a fine deep long rock-reservoir with
water running into and out of it. I could not touch the bottom with over
twenty feet of string. The rocky sides of this gorge rose almost
perpendicularly above us, and the farther we went up, the more water we
saw, until our passage was completely stopped by the abruptness of the
walls and the depth of the water at their feet; I called this Glen
Cumming*. The particular part or hill of the range on which this
reservoir exists I named Mount Russell*; this was the most eastern mount
of the range. We then turned westerly towards the Alice Falls, and in a
mile and a half we came to another gorge, where there was a cascade
falling into a very clear round basin over twenty feet deep, washed out
of solid white stone. There were numerous other basins, above and below
the large one. I called this place Glen Gerald. Proceeding on our way,
we came to another cascade and basin; the fall of water was from a
lesser height. I called this Glen Fielder. From here we went to the
Alice Falls, rested the horses, and had a swim and delicious shower
bath. A warm wind from the south-east prevailed all day.

<p>I wished to find a road through or over this range, but will
evidently have to go farther to the west, where at seven or eight miles
there are apparently two separate hummocks. We returned to camp quite
charmed with our day's ramble, although the country was very rough and
stony. The vegetation about here is in no way different from any which
exists between this range and Mount Olga. Making a move now in the
direction of the two apparently separated hills, we passed through some
scrub of course, and then came to grassy gum-tree or eucalyptus flats,
with water-channels. At twelve miles we came fairly on to the banks of a
splendid-looking creek, with several sheets of water; its bed was broad,
with many channels, the intermediate spaces being thickly set with long
coarse green rushes. The flow of the water was to the north, and the
creek evidently went through a glen or pass; the timber grew thick and
vigorous; the water had a slightly brackish taste. All through the pass
we saw several small sheets of water. One fine hole had great quantities
of ducks on it, but Gibson, who started to shoot some of them, couldn't
get his gun to go off, but the ducks' firearms acted much better, for
they went off extremely well.

<p>We encamped at a place near a recent native camp, where the grass was
very good. This was evidently a permanently watered pass, with some
excellent country round it to the south.

<p>The range appeared to continue to the west, and this seemed the only
pass through it. I called this the Pass of the Abencerrages&mdash;that
is to say, the Children of the Saddle. The creek and its waters I named
Sladen Water, after the late Sir Charles Sladen*. This evening, having
had a comfortable bath, I was getting my blankets ready for bed when
Jimmy Andrews came rushing over to me. I immediately grabbed a rifle, as
I thought it was an attack by the natives. He merely begged to know what
day of the month it was, and requested me to mention the fact, with day
and date in my journal, that&mdash;yes, Gibson was actually seen in the
act of bathing. I thought Jimmy was joking, as this I could not believe
without the sensible and true avouch of mine own eyes, but there was the
naked form, the splashing water, and the swimming dog. It was a
circumstance well worth recording, for I am sure it is the first full
bodied ablution he has indulged in since leaving Mount Olga, eighteen
weeks to a day, and I am not at all sure that he bathed there. It was
therefore with great pleasure that I recorded the unusual circumstance.
When Jimmy left me grinning, and I had time to get over my surprise, and
give mature consideration to this unusual matter, it did seem to me
better, having the welfare of the whole of the members of my expedition
at heart&mdash;I say, it did appear better, on the principle of the
greatest good for the greatest number, that Gibson should endure the
agony of an all-over wash, than that we should be attacked and perhaps
killed by the natives.

<p>The flies on this range are evidently very numerous, for their
attention to our eyes is not only persistent but very annoying.

<p>This morning I made the latitude of this pass to be 24&deg;
58&acute;, and longitude 127&deg; 55&acute;. We followed this creek;
travelling along its banks, we found native huts very numerous, and for
a few miles some sheets of water were seen; the bed then became too
sandy; its course was about north-west. In eight or nine miles we found
that sandhill and casuarina country existed, and swallowed up the
unfortunate creek. The main line of ranges continued westerly, and,
together with another range in front of us to the north, formed a kind
of crescent. No pass appeared to exist between them. I now went to the
eastern end of a range that lay to the north of us, and passing over a
low ridge had a good view of the surrounding country. Ranges appeared in
almost all directions; the principal ones lay to the west and
north-west. One conspicuous abrupt-faced mount bore north 17&deg; east;
this I named Mount Barlee. There were others to the east-north-east, and
the long sweep of the range from which we had come to the south. One
hill near us looked inviting, and we found a deep rocky gorge with water
in its neighbourhood. In fact there were several fine rocky basins ten
and twelve feet deep, though they were very rough places to get horses
to. I called the high hill Mount Buttfield. It appeared as if no rain
had fallen here lately; the water in all these holes was greenish and
stagnant, or stagning as Gibson and Jimmy called it. The grass, such as
there was, was old, white, and dry. The country down below, north-wards,
consisted of open, sandy, level, triodia ground, dotted with a few
clumps of the desert oak, giving a most pleasing appearance to the eye,
but its reality is startlingly different, keeping, as it were, the word
of promise to the eye, but breaking it to the hope. While the horses
were being collected this morning I ascended Mount Buttfield, and found
that ranges continued to the west for a considerable distance. I now
decided to make for a notch or fall in the main range we had left, which
now bore nearly west, as there appeared to be a creek issuing from the
hills there. Travelling over casuarina sandhills and some level triodia
ground, we found there was a creek with eucalypts on it, but it was
quite evident that none of the late showers had fallen there. Hardly any
grass was to be found, the ground being open and stony, with thorny
vegetation.

<p>In the main channel we could only find deep, rocky, dry basins, but
up a small branch gorge I found three small basins with a very limited
supply of water, not sufficient for my horses both now and in the
morning, so we thought it better that they should do without it
to-night. Above the camp there was a kind of pound, so we put all the
horses up there, as it was useless to let them ramble all over the
country in the night. The ants were excessively troublesome here. I
could not find sufficient shade for the thermometer to-day, but kept it
as cool as I could for fear of its bursting.

<p>This glen, or rather the vegetation which had existed in it, had been
recently burned by the natives, and it had in consequence a still more
gloomy and dreary appearance. I called it by its proper name, that is to
say, Desolation Glen.

<p>I could get no rest last night on account of the ants, the wretches
almost ate me alive, and the horses tried so often to pass by the camp
that I was delighted at the reappearance of the morn. Mr. Tietkens also
had to shift his camp, and drove the horses back, but ants as big as
elephants, or an earthquake that would destroy the world, would never
wake Gibson and Jimmy. It was difficult to get the horses to the place
where the water was, and we could only manage three at a time. There was
fortunately just enough water, though none to spare. One old fool of a
horse must needs jump into an empty rock basin; it was deep and funnel
shaped, so that he could not stand when he got there, so he fell, and
had knocked himself about terribly before we could get him out. Indeed,
I never thought he could come out whole, and I was preparing to get him
out in pieces when he made one last super-equine exertion, and fell up
and out at the same time.

<p>The delay in watering the horses, and extracting Terrible Billy from
the basin, made it twelve o'clock before we could turn our backs upon
this hideous place, hoping to find no more like it. We travelled along
the stony slope of the range nearly west, and in less than two miles we
crossed a small creek-channel with a thick clump of gum-trees right
under the range. The tops of a second clump were also visible about half
a mile off. Mr. Tietkens went to search down Desolation Creek. I
directed Gibson to go on with the horses to the foot of a hill which I
pointed out to him, and to remain there until I overtook him. Up the
creek close to the clump of timber the whole glen was choked with a rank
vegetation, beneath which the water ran in a strong and rapid stream
that issued to the upper air from the bottom of the range. In trying to
cross this channel, my horse became entangled in the dense vegetation,
whose roots, planted in rich and oozy soil, induced the tops of this
remarkable plant to grow ten, twelve, and fifteen feet high. It had a
nasty gummy, sticky feel when touched, and emitted a strong, coarse
odour of peppermint. The botanical name of this plant is Stemodia
viscosa. This vegetation was not substantial enough to sustain my horse,
and he plunged so violently that he precipitated me head-first into the
oozy, black, boggy mass, and it appeared as though he must be swallowed
up alive. I had in such a place great difficulty in getting my saddle,
rifle, revolver, and other gear off the animal's back. I gave up all
hopes of recovering the horse, for he had ceased struggling, and was
settling down bodily in the morass.

<p>I left him and ran shouting after Gibson and Jimmy, but they were too
far away; Mr. Tietkens, however, on his way after them, heard me and
rode up. His astonishment was great indeed when I showed him the horse,
now deeply imbedded in the bog. The vegetation could hold us up above
the running stream, and at last, but how I never could make out, by dint
of flogging, helping to lift, and yelling at him, the creature, when he
found we were trying to help him, interested himself once more in the
matter, and at length we got him out of this bottomless pit. He was
white when he went in, but coal black when he came out. There were no
rock-holes at the head of this spring; the water drains from underneath
the mountains, and is permanent beyond a doubt. I called this Luehman's
Springs. The water appears on the surface for a little over a mile.
Having re-saddled my dirty black beast, we went to the next gorge, where
the clump of eucalyptus was very thick and fine-looking; the water here
springing from the hills as at the last, we were mighty skeery how we
approached this. A fine stream of water ran here.

<p>After this we found five other glens with running springs, in about
as many miles; they were named respectively, but afterwards, Groener's
and Tyndall's Springs, the Great Gorge, Fort McKellar*, where I
subsequently had a depot, and the Gorge of Tarns. Fort McKellar is the
most western water suitable for a depot, and is the most agreeable
encampment. Many of these glens had fine rock-holes as well as running
springs; most of the channels were full of bulrushes and the peculiar
Stemodia. This plant is of a dark-green colour, of a pulpy nature, with
a thick leaf, and bears a minute violet-coloured flower. It seemed very
singular that all these waters should exist close to the place I called
Desolation Glen; it appeared as if it must be the only spot on the range
that was destitute of water. After some time spent in exploring these
charming places, it was time to look about for the horses, and though
Gibson had crossed all these channels within sight of their waters, he
never stopped for a moment to see if the horses would drink. We expected
to overtake him in a mile or two, as the hill pointed out to him was now
close at hand. The country was so solid and stony that we could not
follow the tracks of the horses for any distance, they could only be
picked up here and there, but the country being open, though rising and
falling into gullies and ridges, we thought to see them at any moment,
so that, as we had found so many waters and the day was Sunday, I wanted
to camp early and rest. Gibson, however, kept driving on, driving on,
going in no particular direction&mdash;north, north-north-west,
north-west, south-west, north again; and having got such a start of us,
it was just night when we overtook him, still driving on up a dry creek,
going due south, slap into the range amongst rocks and stones, etc. I
was greatly annoyed, for, having found six splendid permanent waters, we
had to camp without a drop of water either for ourselves or our horses,
the animals being driven about the whole day when they might have had a
fine day's rest, with green grass and splendid water. It is impossible
to drill sense into some people's heads; but there&mdash;perhaps I had
no sense in coming into such a region myself.

<p>A fierce, warm south wind blew all night; the ants were dreadful, and
would not allow me to sleep for a minute, though the others did not seem
to feel them. The range still continued to the west, and other creeks
were visible in that direction, but I decided to return to the last
water I had seen&mdash;that is to say, at the Gorge of Tarns. Not being
able to sleep, I went after the horses long before daylight, and found
they had wandered a terrible distance, although short-hobbled. I soon
found out the cause, for one horse had been loose all night with his
pack on, and had consequently led the others a fine jaunt. When all were
found and packed, we returned to the gorge which, in consequence of its
having so many splendid basins of deep water, I named as before said. On
arriving, we fixed our camp close up to the large basins, but the horses
could water a mile below, where some tea-tree grew, and where the water
reappeared upon the surface after sinking beneath it. There was some
good feed here for the horses, but it was over a very limited area.

<p>We had a swim in the fine rocky tarn, and we were delighted to be
joined by Gibson in our ablutions. Could the bottom of this pool be
cleared of the loose blocks of stone, gravel, and sand, it would
doubtless be found of very great depth; but the rains and floods of ages
have nearly filled it with stones, loosened from the upper rocks, and it
is only in the crevices between the rocks at the bottom that one can
discover the depth to be greater than seven feet. Shade here is very
scarce when the sun is overhead, except up around the large basin, where
there are caves and overhanging rocky ledges, under which we sit, and
over which the splashing waters from their sources above fall into the
tarn below.

<p>The view from the top of the range was very similar to that from
Mount Buttfield, only that now to the south we could see an horizon of
scrub. To the north, the natives were burning the spinifex, and this
produced such a haze that no definite view could be obtained. Other
portions of the range quite prevented a western view. The altitude of
this summit was a little over 3000 feet above sea level.

<p>Not being able to glean any farther information about the surrounding
country, we (con)descended to work in the shady caves, swimming and
working alternately during the day, for we had plenty of the
ever-recurring tasks to do, namely, the repairing of pack-bags and
clothes, and the unravelling of canvas for twine.

<p>The first night we passed here was close and hot. We had so much of
sewing to do that we set to work with a will; our clothes also require
as much attention as the pack-bags and pack-saddles. No one could
conceive the amount of tearing and patching that is for ever going on;
could either a friend or stranger see us in our present garb, our
appearance would scarcely be thought even picturesque; for a more
patched and ragged set of tatterdemalions it would be difficult to find
upon the face of the earth. We are not, indeed, actually destitute of
clothes, but, saving our best for future emergencies, we keep
continually patching our worst garments, hence our peculiar appearance,
as our hats, shirts, and trousers, are here and there, so quilted with
bits of old cloth, canvas, calico, basil, greenhide, and old blanket,
that the original garment is scarcely anywhere visible. In the matter of
boots the traveller must be able to shoe himself as well as his horses
in these wild regions of the west. The explorer indeed should be
possessed of a good few accomplishments&mdash;amongst these I may
enumerate that he should be able to make a pie, shoe himself or his
horse, jerk a doggerel verse or two, not for himself, but simply for the
benefit or annoyance of others, and not necessarily for publication, nor
as a guarantee of good faith; he must be able to take, and make, an
observation now and again, mend a watch, kill or cure a horse as the
times may require, make a pack-saddle, and understand something of
astronomy, surveying, geography, geology, and mineralogy, et hoc, simile
huic.

<p>With regard to shoeing oneself, I will give my reader some idea of
what strength is required for boots in this country. I repaired mine at
Fort Mueller with a double sole of thick leather, with sixty horseshoe
nails to each boot, all beautifully clenched within, giving them a soft
and Turkish carpet-like feeling to the feet inside; then, with an
elegant corona of nail-heads round the heel and plates at the toes, they
are perfect dreadnoughts, and with such understandings I can tread upon
a mountain with something like firmness, but they were nearly the death
of me afterwards for all that.

<p>In the shade of our caves here the thermometer does not rise very
high, but in the external glen, where we sleep in the open air, it is no
cooler.

<p>On the 29th we left this cool and shady spot&mdash;cool and shady,
however, only amongst the caves&mdash;and continued our march still
westward, along the slopes of the range.

<p>In eight miles we crossed ten creeks issuing from glens or gorges in
the range; all that I inspected had rocky basins, with more or less
water in them. Other creeks were seen ahead, but no view could be got of
any horizon to the west; only the northern and eastern ones being open
to our view. The country surrounding the range to the north appeared to
consist of open red sandhills, with casuarina in the hollows between. At
sixteen miles I found a large rocky tarn in a creek-gorge; but little or
no grass for the horses&mdash;indeed, the whole country at the foot of
this range is very bare of that commodity, except at Sladen Water, where
it is excellent.

<p>Since we left Sladen Water the horses have not done well, and the
slopes of this range being so rough and stony, many of them display
signs of sorefootedness. I cannot expect the range to continue farther
than another day's stage; and though I cannot see its end, yet I feel
'tis near.

<p>Many delays by visiting places caused it to be very late when we sat
down amongst stones and triodia to devour our frugal supper. A solitary
eagle was the monarch of this scene; it was perched upon the highest
peak of a bare ridge, and formed a feathery sky-line when looking up the
gorge&mdash;always there sat the solemn, solitary, and silent bird, like
the Lorelei on her rock&mdash; above&mdash;beautifully, there, as though
he had a mission to watch the course of passing events, and to record
them in the books of time and fate. There was a larger and semicircular
basin still farther up the gorge; this I called the Circus, but this
creek and our rock-hole ever after went by the name of the Circus. In a
few miles the next day I could see the termination of the range. In nine
miles we crossed three creeks, then ascended a hill north of us, and
obtained at last a western view. It consisted entirely of high, red
sandhills with casuarinas and low mallee, which formed the horizon at
about ten miles. The long range that had brought us so far to the west
was at an end; it had fallen off slightly in altitude towards its
western extremity, and a deep bed of rolling sandhill country, covered
with desert vegetation, surrounded it on all sides. Nearer to us,
north-westerly, and stretching nearly to west, lay the dry, irregular,
and broken expanse of an ancient lake bed. On riding over to it we found
it very undefined, as patches of sandhills occurred amongst low ridges
of limestone, with bushes and a few low trees all over the expanse.
There were patches of dry, soda-like particles, and the soil generally
was a loose dust coloured earth. Samphire bushes also grew in patches
upon it, and some patches of our arch-enemy, triodia. Great numbers of
wallaby, a different kind from the rock, were seen amongst the limestone
rises; they had completely honeycombed all we inspected. Water there was
none, and if Noah's deluge visited this place it could be conveniently
stowed away, and put out of sight in a quarter of an hour.

<p>Returning to the horses, we turned southerly to the most westerly
creek that issues from the range. I found some water up at the head of
it in rock-holes; but it was so far up easterly, that we could not have
been more than five or six miles across the hills from our last night's
encampment at the Circus. There was only a poor supply of water in two
small holes, which could not last longer than three days at the most.
The thermometer ranged up to 104&deg; to-day. Some of the horses are now
terribly footsore. I would shoe them, only that we are likely to be in
the sandhills again immediately. I did not exactly know which way to go.
Mr. Tietkens and I ascended the highest hill in this part of the range.
I had yesterday seen something like the top of a ridge south-westerly; I
now found it was part of a low distant range, and not of a very
promising nature. There was a conspicuous mountain, which now bore
north-east about fifty miles away, and I fancied I saw the refracted
tops of other ranges floating in the mirage. I thought, from the
mountain just mentioned, I might discover others, which might lead me
away to the west. Up to the present time we had always called this, in
consequence of its bearing when first seen, the North-west Mountain. I
thought a change of country might be met with sooner in a north or
north-westerly direction than in a west or south-westerly one, as the
sources of the Murchison River must be met somewhere in the former
direction. I tried the boiling-point of water here, and found that the
ebullition occurred at two degrees higher than at the Alice Falls, which
indicated a fall of nearly 1000 feet, the western end of the range being
much lower than the middle or eastern. We had still a couple of bottles
of spirit left in the medical department, and as nobody seemed inclined
to get ill, we opened one here. Jimmy Andrews having been a sailor boy,
I am afraid had learnt bad habits, as he was very fond of grog. When we
opened the last bottle at Christmas, and Jimmy had had a taste, he said,
&ldquo;What's the use of only a nobbler or two? I wouldn't give a
d&mdash;,&rdquo; dump, I suppose he meant, &ldquo;for grog unless I
could get drunk.&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;Well, now, my impression is that
it would require very little grog to do that.&rdquo; He said,
&ldquo;Why, I'd drink six bottles off and never know it.&rdquo; I said,
&ldquo;Well, the next bottle we open you shall have as much out of it as
you can take in one drink, even if you drink the whole bottle.&rdquo; He
replied, &ldquo;Oh, all right, I'll leave a nobbler for you, you know,
Mr. Giles; and I'd like to give Tietkens a taste; but that [adjective]
Gibson, I'll swear he won't git none.&rdquo; So we opened the bottle,
and I said, &ldquo;Now then, Jimmy, here's your grog, let's see how much
you can drink.&rdquo; &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I ain't going to
drink it all at once.&rdquo; &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;if
you don't, we shall&mdash;so now is your chance.&rdquo; Jimmy poured out
a good stiff glass and persisted in swallowing it raw. In five minutes
he was fast asleep, and that was all he got out of the bottle; he never
woke till morning, and then&mdash;well, the bottle was empty then.

<p>My readers will form a better idea of this peculiar and distant
mountain range when I tell them that it is more than sixty miles long,
averaging five or six miles through. It is of a bold and rounded form;
there is nothing pointed or jagged in its appearance anywhere, except
where the eagle sat upon the rock at the Circus; its formation is mostly
a white conglomerate, something between granite, marble, and quartz,
though some portions are red. It is surrounded, except to the east, by
deserts, and may be called the monarch of those regions where the
unvisited mountains stand. It possesses countless rocky glens and
gorges, creeks and valleys, nearly all containing reservoirs of the
purest water. When the Australian summer sunset smooths the roughness of
the corrugated range, like a vast and crumpled garment, spread by the
great Creator's hand, east and west before me stretching, these eternal
mountains stand. It is a singular feature in a strange land, and God
knows by what beady drops of toilsome sweat Tietkens and I rescued it
from its former and ancient oblivion. Its position in latitude is
between the 24th and 25th parallels, and its longitude between 127&deg;
30&acute; and 128&deg; 30&acute;. I named it the Rawlinson Range, after
Sir Henry Rawlinson, President of the Royal Geographical Society of
London. I found a singular moth- and fly-catching, plant in this range;
it exudes a gummy substance, by which insects become attached to the
leaves. The appearance of this range from a distance is white, flat,
corrugated, rounded, and treeless. It rises between 1100 and 1200 feet
in its highest portions, about the centre, in the neighbourhood of Fort
McKellar, above the surrounding country, though its greatest elevation
above the sea is over 3000 feet.

<p>On the 1st of February, after a very hot night, we made a late start
for the North-west Mountain, which now bore nearly north-east. It took
some miles to get clear of the stones of the range, the appearance of
the new feature we were steering for being most inviting. Its corrugated
front proclaimed the existence of ravines and gorges, while a more open
valley ran between it and some lower hills immediately to the west of
it.

<p>The horses were so delighted to get off the stones, that they
travelled uncommonly fast, and we got over twenty-eight miles by night,
though the country was exceedingly heavy travelling, being all high, red
sandhills, and until near the end of our day's stage we could scarcely
ever see the mountain at all. We encamped without water, but I expected
to get some early next day at the mountain. Two of the horses lay down
at the camp all night, being thirsty, tired, and footsore; there was no
grass for them. The thermometer to-day indicated 108&deg; in the shade.
A great number of the horses, from being footsore, were lying down this
morning, and when mustered they all looked excessively hollow and
thirsty. If no water be found at this mountain, how many of them will be
alive in a couple of days? Yesterday we made twenty-eight, and to-day at
twenty-three, miles we reached the foot of the mount. There was an
inviting valley, up which we took the horses a mile. Then, leaving
Gibson and Jimmy to await our return, Mr. Tietkens and I rode away in
search of water. It was evident that only a trifling shower, if any, had
visited this range, for not a drop of water could be found, nor any rock
reservoirs where it might lodge. We parted company, and searched
separately, but when we met again we could only report to each other our
non-success. It was now past two o'clock, our horses had been ridden
somewhat fast over the most horrible and desolate stony places, where no
water is, and they were now in a very exhausted state, especially Mr.
Tietkens's.

<p>There were yet one or two ravines in the southern face of the range,
and while I ascended the mountain, Mr. Tietkens and the others took the
horses round that way and searched. From the summit of this sterile
mount I had expected at least a favourable view, but to my intense
disappointment nothing of the kind was to be seen. Two little hills
only, bearing 20 and 14&deg; west of north, were the sole objects higher
than the general horizon; the latter was formed entirely of high, red
sandhills, with casuarina between. To the east only was a peaked and
jagged range, which I called Mount Robert, after my brother; all the
rest was a bed of undulating red sand. What was to be hoped from a
region such as this? Could water exist in it? It was scarcely possible.
For an independent watercourse I could not hope, because in the many
hundreds of miles westward from the telegraph line which we had
travelled, no creek had been met, except in the immediate vicinity of
ranges, and not a drop of water, so to speak, had I obtained away from
these. I was upon the point of naming this Mount Disappointment, it
looked so inviting from a distance, and yet I could find no water; and
if none here, what possibility could there be of getting any in the
midst of the dense bed of sandhills beyond? I did not test the
boiling-point of water, for I had none to boil, but the elevation was
about 1100 feet above the surrounding country. From a distance this
mount has a very cheering and imposing appearance, and I would have gone
to it from almost any distance, with a full belief in its having water
about it. But if, indeed, the inland mountain has really voice and
sound, what I could gather from the sighings of the light zephyrs that
fanned my heated brow, as I stood gazing hopelessly from this summit,
was anything but a friendly greeting, it was rather a warning that
called me away; and I fancied I could hear a voice repeating, Let the
rash wand'rer here beware; Heaven makes not travellers its peculiar
care.

<p>Descending now, I joined the others at the foot of the hill, when Mr.
Tietkens and Gibson informed me they had searched everywhere, but in
vain. The horses were huddled together in the shade of a thicket, three
or four of them lying down with their packs on, and all looking the
pictures of wretchedness and woe. It was now past four o'clock, and
there was no alternative but to retreat.

<p>The Gorge of Tarns, thirty miles away, about south-south-west, was
the nearest water, but between us and it was another low range with a
kind of saddle or break in the middle. I wished, if possible, to get
over this before night, so we turned the horses' heads in that
direction. One fine horse called Diamond seemed suffering more than the
rest. Mr. Tietkens's riding-horse, a small blue roan, a very game little
animal that had always carried him well, albeit not too well treated,
was also very bad, and two others were very troublesome to drive along.
The saddle in the low range was a most difficult and stony pass; so
dreadfully rough and scrubby was it, I was afraid that night would
descend upon us before we could reach the southern side. Mr. Tietkens's
Bluey gave in here, and fell heavily down a stony slope into a dense
thicket of scrub; we had the greatest difficulty in getting him out, and
it was only by rolling him over the stones and down the remainder of the
slope, for he could not stand, that we got him to the bottom. He was
severely cut and bruised in the descent. We just managed to get clear of
the stones by dark, and unpacked the exhausted animals, which had been
travelling almost ever since daylight. We had no water except a mouthful
for the little dog. The thermometer stood at 108&deg;, ourselves and our
horses were choking for water.

<p>In the morning several of the horses were lying dying about the camp;
Bluey, Diamond, a little cob&mdash;mate or brother of the one killed on
Elder's Creek&mdash;and one or two more, while those that were able had
wandered away. Though we were up and after them at three in the morning,
it was ten before I could despatch Mr. Tietkens and Jimmy with the main
mob. Poor little Bluey died soon after sunrise. Gibson was after the
absent horses, which he brought at length, and we packed up and went
after the others. Gibson's usual riding-horse, Trew, was very bad, and
quite unable to carry him. Mr. Tietkens was now riding an old horse
which I had purchased in Victoria, and had owned for some time; he was
called Widge. I had him out on my former expedition. He was a cool,
calculating villain, that no ordinary work could kill, and he was as
lively as a cricket when Mr. Tietkens rode him away; he usually carried
a pack. Jimmy carried the little dog Cocky, now nearly dead from thirst
and heat, though we had given him the last drop of water we possessed.
Dogs, birds, and large beasts in Australia often die of heat, within
sight of water. Jimmy was mounted on a gray-hipped horse, which was also
out on my former trip; he carried his rider well to the end. Gibson I
had mounted on a young bay mare, a creature as good as they make them;
she was as merry and gay, as it is possible for any of her sex, even of
the human kind, to be. Her proper name was the Fair Maid of Perth; but
somehow, from her lively, troublesome, and wanton vagaries, they called
her the Sow-Cow. My own riding-horse, a small, sleek, cunning little
bay, a fine hack with excellent paces, called W.A., I also had out
previously. He would pull on his bridle all day long to eat, he would
even pretend to eat spinifex; he was now very bad and footsore. Gibson
and I overtook Mr. Tietkens and Jimmy, and we pushed on as fast as we
could, the distance we had now to go, not being more than ten or eleven
miles. The sandhills were exceedingly high and severe, but all the
horses got over the last one.

<p>We were now in full view of the range, with the Gorge of Tarns not
more than five miles away. But here Diamond and another, Pratt, that I
had out by myself at the stinking pit in November, fell, never to rise.
We took off their packs and left them on the ground. The thermometer
then stood at 106&deg; in the shade. We pushed on, intending to return
immediately with water to the relief of these unfortunates. The
pack-horses now presented a demoralised and disorganised rout,
travelling in a long single file, for it was quite impossible to keep
the tail up with the leaders. I shall try to give my reader some slight
idea of them, if description is sufficiently palpable to do so. The real
leader was an old black mare, blear-eyed from fly-wounds, for ever
dropping tears of salt rheum, fat, large, strong, having carried her 180
pounds at starting, and now desperately thirsty and determined, knowing
to an inch where the water was; on she went, reaching the stony slopes
about two miles from the water. Next came a rather herring-gutted, lanky
bay horse, which having been bought at the Peake, I called Peveril; he
was generally poor, but always able, if not willing, for his work. Then
came a big bay cob, and an old flea-bitten gray called Buggs, that got
bogged in the Stemodia viscosa Creek, and a nuggetty-black harness-horse
called Darkie, always very fat. These last three carried 200 pounds each
at starting. Then Banks, the best saddle-horse I have, and which I had
worked too much in dry trips before reaching this range; he was very
much out of sorts and footsore. Then an iron-grey colt, called Diaway,
having been very poor and miserable when first purchased, but he was a
splendid horse. Then came the sideways-going old crab, Terrible Billy.
He was always getting into the most absurd predicaments&mdash;poor old
creature; got down our throats at last!&mdash;falling into holes, and up
and down slopes, going at them sideways, without the slightest
confidence in himself, or apparent fear of consequences; but the old
thing always did his work well enough. Blackie next, a handsome young
colt with a white stripe down his face, and very fast; and Formby, a bay
that had done excellent harness-work with Diamond on the road to the
Peake; he was a great weight-carrier. The next was Hollow Back, who had
once been a fine-paced and good jumping horse, but now only fit for
packing; he was very well bred and very game. The next was Giant
Despair, a perfect marvel. He was a chestnut, old, large-framed, gaunt,
and bony, with screwed and lately staked feet. Life for him seemed but
one unceasing round of toil, but he was made of iron; no distance and no
weight was too much for him. He sauntered along after the leaders,
looking not a whit the worse than when he left the last water, going
neither faster nor slower than his wont. He was dreadfully destructive
with his pack-bags, for he would never get out of the road for anything
less than a gum-tree. Tommy and Badger, two of my former expedition
horses; Tommy and Hippy I bought a second time from Carmichael, when
coming up to the Peake. Tommy was poor, old, and footsore, the most
wonderful horse for his size in harness I ever saw. Badger, his mate,
was a big ambling cob, able to carry a ton, but the greatest slug of a
horse, I ever came across; he seems absolutely to require flogging as a
tonic; he must be flogged out of camp, and flogged into it again, mile
after mile, day after day, from water and to it. He was now, as usual,
at the tail of the straggling mob, except Gibson's former riding-horse
called Trew. He was an excellent little horse, but now so terribly
footsore he could scarcely drag himself along; he was one of six best of
the lot. If I put them in their order I should say, Banks, the Fair Maid
of Perth, Trew, Guts (W.A.), Diaway, Blackie and Darkie, Widge, the big
cob Buggs&mdash;the flea-bitten grey&mdash;Bluey, Badger, who was a fine
ambling saddle-horse, and Tommy; the rest might range anyhow. The last
horse of all was the poor little shadow of a cob, the harness-mate of
the one killed at Elder's Creek. On reaching the stones this poor little
ghost fell, never again to rise. We could give him no relief, we had to
push on. Guts gave in on the stones; I let him go and walked to the
water. I need scarcely say how thirsty we all were. On reaching the
water, and wasting no time, Mr. Tietkens and I returned to the three
fallen horses, taking with us a supply of water, and using the Fair
Maid, Widge, Formby, and Darkie; we went as fast as the horses could go.
On reaching the little cob we found him stark and stiff, his hide all
shrivelled and wrinkled, mouth wide open, and lips drawn back to an
extraordinary extent. Pushing on we arrived where Diamond and Pratt had
fallen. They also were quite dead, and must have died immediately after
they fell; they presented the same appearance as the little cob. Thus my
visit to the North-west Mountain had cost the lives of four horses,
Bluey, Diamond, Pratt, and the cob. The distance they had to travel was
not great&mdash;less than ninety miles&mdash;and they were only two
nights without water; but the heat was intense, the country frightful,
and to get over the distance as soon as possible, we may have travelled
rather fast. The horses had not been well off for either grass or water
at starting, and they were mostly footsore; but in the best of cases,
and under the most favourable start from a water, the ephemeral thread
of a horse's life may be snapped in a moment, in the height of an
Australian summer, in such a region as this, where that detestable
vegetation, the triodia, and high and rolling sandhills exist for such
enormous distances. The very sight of the country, in all its hideous
terrors clad, is sufficient to daunt a man and kill a horse. I called
the vile mountain which had caused me this disaster, Mount Destruction,
for a visit to it had destroyed alike my horses and my hopes. I named
the range of which it is the highest point, Carnarvon Range.

<p>We returned again to the Gorge of Tarns, as Mr. Tietkens very tritely
remarked, sadder but wiser men. Our position here is by no means
enviable, for although there is plenty of permanent water in this range,
it appears to be surrounded by such extensive deserts that advance or
retreat is equally difficult, as now I had no water in tanks or
otherwise between this and Fort Mueller, and not a horse might ever
reach that goal. I am again seated under the splashing fountain that
falls from the rocks above, sheltered by the sunless caverns of this
Gorge of Tarns, with a limpid liquid basin of the purest water at my
feet, sheltered from the heated atmosphere which almost melts the rocks
and sand of the country surrounding us&mdash;sitting as I may well
declare in the shadow of a great rock in a weary land, but we cannot
shut out from the mind the perils we have endured, the perils we may yet
have to endure. For the present our wants and those of our gallant
horses are supplied, but to the traveller in such a wilderness, when he
once turns his back upon a water, the ever-recurring question presents
itself, of when and where shall I obtain more? The explorer is
necessarily insatiable for water; no quantity can satisfy him, for he
requires it always and in every place. Life for water he will at any
moment give, for water cannot be done without. Thermometer in outer
shade 106&deg;; in the caverns 98&deg;.

<p>We shall have to remain here for a few days. The bare rocks in this
glen and the walls of stone that form it become so heated during the day
that the nights passed in it are most oppressive. The rocks have not
time to cool before the sun is upon them again, and at evening, when
descending from the caves, we find the thermometer actually rises in the
night air. In the caves during to-day it was 98&deg;, and at eight
o'clock at night outside it was 101&deg;. We are pestered here terribly
by flies, but not plagued by either ants or mosquitoes. This evening
Gibson and Jimmy shot three wallabies. This range swarms also with
pigeons in every gorge and glen, and they come in clouds at night and
morning for water. Unfortunately nearly all our sporting ammunition is
gone, though I have a good supply of defensive. To-day the thermometer
in the caves was only 88&deg; while in the outside shade 104&deg;, the
cause being hot winds from the south-east. While here we shod the most
tender-footed of our horses. There was a good deal of thunder and
lightning. The daytime in this gorge is less oppressive than the night.
The sun does not appear over the eastern hills until nearly nine
o'clock, and it passes behind the western ones at about 4.15 p.m. The
horses cannot recover well here, the ground being too stony, and the
grass and herbage too poor; therefore I shall retreat to the Pass of the
Abencerrages and the pleasant encampment of Sladen Water. One horse,
Tommy, was still very bad, and had to be left on the road, not from want
of water, but old age and exhaustion. I sent for him the next day, and
he rejoined the mob. We got back on the 12th of February; there was a
fine lot of ducks when we arrived, but those sportsmen Gibson and Jimmy
went blazing away as usual without getting one, wasting the powder and
shot, which has now become such a scarcity, and losing and making the
ducks wild into the bargain. The birds were so frightened that they
split into several mobs, and only one mob of eight remained at the pass.
I wanted to get these, and went to some trouble to do so. I first walked
away and got a horse, and riding him bare-backed I drove the ducks
quietly down to the camp water-hole, but the moment they arrived, I
being behind with the horse, Gibson and Jimmy must needs go blazing away
at them again, although they knew they could never hit any of them; and
just as I arrived I heard the report and saw all the ducks come flying
overhead up the pass. They went up therefore through the regions of the
air singing sweetly as they went, but I did not sing so sweetly on the
occasion. Then ensued quite a scientific little ornithological lecture
on my part, referring mostly to the order of ducks, and the species
known as wild ones more particularly, and I explained the subject to
them in such a plain and forcible manner that both of them admitted they
quite understood what I was talking about, which is a great matter for
lecturers to consider, because if, after a forcible harangue, a
speaker's audience is in any way mystified, or not in touch with him as
to the meaning of his remarks, why, then, his time and labour are both
lost; therefore I purposely refrained from any ambiguity, and delivered
my figures of speech and rounded periods in words suitable for the most
ordinary comprehension, and I really think it had a good effect on both
of them. Of course I addressed them more in sorrow than in anger,
although the loss of eight ducks was a frightfully heavy one to all of
us; but I was partially consoled with the thought that they would have
to bear their share of the loss. A few hours afterwards I went after the
ducks again, and by good fortune bagged six in one shot; one got away in
the bushes, and the other flew away; and he seemed to me to have a very
crooked flew at that. These were the fattest birds I ever ate. We had a
fine supper of ducks, their flavour being sup(p)er-excellent.

<h5><a name="i20">ILLUSTRATION 20</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t20.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>DRAGGED BY DIAWAY.</h5>

<h5><a name="i21">ILLUSTRATION 21</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t21.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>ATTACK AT SLADEN WATER.</h5>

<p>The ants were terribly troublesome at this waterhole, although we
slept on the damp sand; so we shifted the camp up to the sweet
water-hole, and selected as open a piece of ground as possible, as I
intended the camp to remain here for a week or two. More thunder and
lightning, with great heat and a few drops of rain. Thermometer,
106&deg;. There were countless numbers of the little cockatoo parrots
here; they are very shy, and even when Gibson or Jimmy lets off a gun at
them, a dozen or two are sure to fall; it takes some time, however,
before another shot can be had at them. I fancy they are migrating. The
pigeons swarm at night to water. I intend to visit the ridges which I
mentioned as lying to the south-west, from the west end of this range.
We shod the old black mare, Diaway, and old Buggs, to take with us. The
18th of February, 1874, was like to have proved a most eventful day in
my life, for it was very nearly the termination of it. I was riding
Diaway, the colt just shod; he is seldom ridden, though a very fine
hack, as he is such a splendid weight-carrier as a packhorse; he is
rather skittish, and if anything goes wrong with his pack, he'll put it
right (on the ground) almost instantaneously. I was driving all the
horses up to the camp, when one broke from the mob, and galloped across
the creek. There was a bank of stones about three feet high, which was
hidden by a growth of rushes; Diaway went bounding over the great bushes
and inequalities of the channel, and reached the bank without seeing it,
until too late, when he made a bound at, but fell on the top of, it,
rolling over upon me at the same time. He scrambled up, but left me on
the broad of my back. On my feet were those wonderful boots before
described, with the sixty horseshoe nails in each, and it was no wonder
that one of my feet got caught in the stirrup on the off side of the
horse. It is one of the most horrible positions that the mind can well
imagine, to contemplate being dragged by a horse. I have been dragged
before now, and only escaped by miracles on each occasion. In this case,
Diaway, finding me attached to him, commenced to lash out his newly shod
heels at me, bounding away at the same time into a dense thicket of
scrub close by. Mr. Tietkens and the others seeing the accident came
running up behind, as Diaway and I were departing. Fortunately I was not
dragged far, but was literally kicked free from and by, the frightened
and uncontrolled animal. The continual kickings I received&mdash;some on
my legs and body, but mostly upon that portion of the frame which it is
considered equally indecorous to present either to a friend or an
enemy&mdash;at length bent one or two of the nail-heads which held me,
and, tearing the upper leather off my boot, which fortunately was old,
ripped it off, leaving me at length free. As I lay on my excoriated
back, I saw Diaway depart without me into the scrub, with feelings of
the most profound delight, although my transports were considerably
lessened by the agonising sensations I experienced. Mr. Tietkens helped
me to hobble over to the camp in a most disorganised state, though
thanking Providence for so fortunate an escape. Had Diaway but entered
the scrub not two yards from where I was released, I could not have
existed more than a minute. The following day Mr. Tietkens was getting
everything ready to go with me to the south-west ridges, though I had
great doubts of my ability to ride, when we became aware of the presence
of a whole host of natives immediately below the camp. All the morning
the little dog had been strangely perturbed, and we knew by the natives'
fires that they were in our immediate neighbourhood. There was so much
long grass and tall rushes in the creek bed, that they could approach
very close before we could possibly see them. So soon as they found
themselves detected, as usual they set up the most horrible yells, and,
running up on the open ground, sent a flight of spears at us before a
rifle or a gun could be seized, and we had to jump behind a large bush,
that I left standing on purpose, to escape. Our stand of arms was there,
and we immediately seized them, sending the bullets flying just above
their heads and at their feet. The report of the weapons and the
whirring sound of the swiftly passing shots made them pause, and they
began an harangue, ordering us out of their territories, to the south.
Seeing us, however, motionless and silent, their courage returned, and
again they advanced, uttering their war cries with renewed energy. Again
the spears would have been amongst us; but I, not relishing even the
idea of barbed spears being stuck through my body, determined not to
permit either my own or any of my party's lives to be lost for the sake
of not discharging my firearms. Consequently we at length succeeded in
causing a rout, and driving the enemy away. There were a great number of
natives in the bushes, besides those who attacked us. There were not
many oldish men among them, only one with grey hair. I am reminded here
to mention that in none of my travels in these western wilds have I
found any places of sepulture of any kind. The graves are not consumed
by the continual fires that the natives keep up in their huntings, for
that would likewise be the fate of their old and deserted gunyahs, which
we meet with frequently, and which are neither all nor half destroyed.
Even if the natives put no boughs or sticks upon their graves, we must
see some mounds or signs of burial-places, if not of bones or skulls. My
opinion is, that these people eat their aged ones, and most probably
those who die from natural causes also.

<p>It was a cool, breezy day, and, in consequence of the hostile action
of the natives, I did not depart on the south-west excursion. I was not
sorry to delay my departure, for I was in great pain all over. I now
decided to leave Mr. Tietkens and take Jimmy with me. I cannot say I
anticipate making any valuable discovery on this trip; for had there
been ranges of any elevation to the westward, or beyond the ridges in
question, I should in all probability have seen them from the end of
this range, and should have visited them in preference to Mount
Destruction. I felt it incumbent on me to visit them, however, as from
them I might obtain a view of some encouraging features beyond.

<hr>

<h4><a name="ch2.8">CHAPTER 2.8. FROM 20TH FEBRUARY TO 12TH MARCH, 1874.</a></h4>
<blockquote>
Journey south-west.
Glens and springs.
Rough watering-place.
A marble bath.
Glassy rocks.
Swarms of ants.
Solitary tree.
An oven.
Terrible night.
And day.
Wretched appearance of the horses.
Mountains of sand.
Hopeless view.
Speculations.
In great pain.
Horses in agony.
Difficulty in watering them.
Another night of misery.
Dante's Inferno.
The waters of oblivion.
Return to the pass.
Dinner of carrion.
A smoke-house.
Tour to the east.
Singular pinnacle.
Eastern ranges.
A gum creek.
Basins of water.
Natives all around.
Teocallis.
Horrid rites.
A chip off the old block.
A wayside inn.
Gordon's Springs.
</blockquote>
<p>Taking Jimmy and three horses, we travelled, after clearing the pass,
on the south slopes of the range westward, crossing several small
creek-channels, which might or might not have waters in them. At twelve
miles we came to a green-looking channel and found water, running so far
down as a rocky hole, near where we crossed. We outspanned here for an
hour, as I found riding very severe toil after my late kicking. I named
this secluded but pretty little spot, Glen Helen. It was very rough
travelling ground&mdash;worse than on the northern side of the range.
Three miles farther, we crossed another running water, and called it
Edith Hull's Springs. At ten miles farther, after crossing several
channels, we turned up one, and got some water in a very rough and stony
gorge off the main channel, which was dry. There was very poor feed, but
we were compelled to remain, as there was no other creek in sight for
some miles, and the horses, although shod, could only travel slowly over
the terribly rough ground. When we turned them out, they preferred to
stand still, rather than roam about among the rocks and boulders for
food. The day was cool; the southern horizon, the only one we could see,
was bounded entirely by red sandhills and casuarina timber. The horses
ate nothing all night, and stood almost where they were hobbled.

<p>In this region, and in the heat of summer, the moment horses, no
matter how fat and fresh they may be, are taken away from their
companions to face the fearful country that they know is before them,
they begin to fret and fall away visibly. They will scarcely eat, and
get all the weaker in consequence, and then they require twice as much
water as they otherwise would if their insides were partly filled with
grass. When I released our three from the hobbles this morning, they
immediately pretended to feed; but this old ruse has been experienced
before, and time was now up, to move on again. They were very thirsty,
and nearly emptied the rock basin, where we had a kind of bath before
starting. Along the foot-hills over which we were obliged to travel, the
country was much rougher than yesterday; so much so, that I kept away as
much as possible. At twenty miles we turned up a creek-channel, which
proved to be a dreadful gorge, being choked up with huge boulders of red
and white granite. Among these I found a fine rock tarn; indeed, I might
call it a marble bath, for the rock was almost pure white, and perfectly
bare all round. The water was considerably over our heads, and felt as
cold as ice. It was a dreadful place to get horses up to, and two of
them fell two or three times on the glassy, shelving, and slippery
rocks. The old grey, Buggs, hurt himself a good deal.

<p>Time seems to fly in these places, except when you want it to do so,
and by the time the horses got down from the water the day was nearly
gone. The feed for them was very little better than at our last night's
camp, nor was the glen any less stony or rough. The day was 12&deg;
hotter than yesterday; the thermometer indicated 104&deg;. The ants in
this glen were frightful; they would not allow me a moment's rest
anywhere. There was but one solitary eucalyptus or gum-tree, and in its
scanty shade they swarmed in countless myriads. The sun poured his fiery
beams full down upon us, and it was not until he departed over the
cliffs to the west that we had a moment's respite; the place was a
perfect oven.

<p>I passed the time mostly in the marble bath, and then took a walk up
to the top of the range and could see the hills I desired to visit; they
now bore nearly south-west. So long as the sun's rays were pouring down
upon their unsheltered hides, the horses would not attempt to eat, but
when he departed they fed a little on the coarse vegetation. This glen,
like all the others in this range, swarmed with pigeons, and we got
enough for breakfast at one shot. During the hot months, I believe
whites could live entirely on pigeons in this range. At the camp at
Sladen Water they came to the water in clouds, their very numbers
sometimes preventing us getting a good shot, and we had been living
entirely on them, for now we had no other meat. Unfortunately, our
ammunition is almost exhausted, but so long as it lasts we shall have
birds. When it is gone we must eat horseflesh, and should have been
driven to do so before now, only for these birds. I have an old horse
now fattening for the knife, and I am sorry, i.e. happy, to say,
whenever I inspect him he looks better. The one I mean is the old
sideways-going Terrible Billy. Poor old creature! To work so many years
as he has done for man, and then to be eaten at last, seems a hard fate;
but who or what can escape that inexorable shadow, death?

<p>It may be the destiny of some of ourselves to be eaten; for I fully
believe the natives of these regions look upon all living organisms as
grist for their insatiable mills. As night came on, I was compelled to
lie down at last, but was so bitten and annoyed by the ants, that I had
to keep moving about from place to place the whole night long, while the
[in]sensible Jimmy lay sleeping and snoring, though swarmed over and
almost carried away by the ants, as peacefully as though he had gone to
rest under the canopy of costly state, and lulled with sounds of
sweetest melody. I could not help moralising, as I often stood near him,
wondering at his peace and placidity, upon the differences of our mental
and physical conditions: here was one human being, young and strong,
certainly, sleeping away the, to me, dreary hours of night, regaining
that necessary vigour for the toils of the coming day, totally oblivious
of swarms of creeping insects, that not only crawled all over him, but
constantly bit into his flesh; while another, who prided himself perhaps
too much upon the mental powers bestowed by God upon him, was compelled
by the same insects to wander through the whole night, from rock to rock
and place to place, unable to remain for more than a moment or two
anywhere; and to whom sleep, under such circumstances, was an utter
impossibility. Not, indeed, that the loss of sleep troubles me, for if
any one could claim to be called the sleepless one, it would be
I&mdash;that is to say, when engaged in these arduous explorations, and
curtained by night and the stars; but, although I can do without sleep,
I require a certain amount of horizontal repose, and this I could not
obtain in this fearful glen. It was, therefore, with extreme pleasure
that I beheld the dawn, and:&mdash;

<p class="poem">&ldquo;To the eastward where, cluster by cluster,
<br>Dim stars and dull planets that muster,
<br>Waxing wan in a world of white lustre,
<br>That spread far and high.&rdquo;

<p>No human being could have been more pleased than I at the appearance
of another day, although I was yet doomed to several hours more misery
in this dreadful gorge. The pigeons shot last night were covered within
and without by ants, although they had been put in a bag. The horses
looked wretched, even after watering, and I saw that it was actually
necessary to give them a day's rest before I ventured with them into the
frightful sandhills which I could see intervened between us and the
distant ridges. Truly the hours I spent in this hideous gorge were hours
of torture; the sun roasted us, for there was no shade whatever to creep
into; the rocks and stones were so heated that we could neither touch,
nor sit upon them, and the ants were more tormenting than ever. I almost
cried aloud for the mountains to fall upon me, and the rocks to cover
me. I passed several hours in the marble bath, the only place the ants
could not encroach upon, though they swarmed round the edge of the
water. But in the water itself were numerous little fiendish
water-beetles, and these creatures bit one almost as badly as the ants.
In the bath I remained until I was almost benumbed by the cold. Then the
sunshine and the heat in the gorge would seem delightful for a few
minutes, till I became baked with heat again. The thermometer stood at
106&deg; in the shade of the only tree. At three p.m. the horses came up
to water. I was so horrified with the place I could no longer remain,
though Jimmy sat, and probably slept, in the scanty one tree's shade,
and seemed to pass the time as comfortably as though he were in a fine
house. In going up to the water two of the horses again fell and hurt
themselves, but the old blear-eyed mare never slipped or fell. At four
p.m. we mounted, and rode down the glen until we got clear of the rough
hills, when we turned upon our proper course for the ridges, which,
however, we could not see. In two or three miles we entered the sandhill
regions once more, when it soon rose into hills. The triodia was as
thick and strong as it could grow. The country was not, so to say,
scrubby, there being only low bushes and scrubs on the sandhills, and
casuarina trees of beautiful outline and appearance in the hollows. When
the horses got clear of the stones they began to eat everything they
could snatch and bite at.

<p>At fifteen miles from the gorge we encamped on a patch of dry grass.
The horses fed pretty well for a time, until the old mare began to think
it time to be off, and she soon would have led the others back to the
range. She dreaded this country, and knew well by experience and
instinct what agony was in store for her. Jimmy got them back and
short-hobbled them. There were plenty of ants here, but nothing to be
compared to the number in the gorge, and having to remove my blankets
only three or four times, I had a most delightful night's rest,
although, of course, I did not sleep. The horses were sulky and would
not eat; therefore they looked as hollow as drums, and totally unfit to
traverse the ground that was before them. However, this had to be done,
or at least attempted, and we got away early. We were in the midst of
the sandhills, and here they rose almost into mountains of sand. It was
most fatiguing to the horses, the thermometer 104&deg; in the shade when
we rested at twenty-two miles. Nor was this the hottest time of the day.
We had been plunging through the sand mountains, and had not sighted the
ridges, for thirty-seven miles, till at length we found the nearest were
pretty close to us. They seemed very low, and quite unlikely to produce
water. Reaching the first, we ascended it, and I could see at a glance
that any prospect of finding water was utterly hopeless, as these low
ridges, which ran north and south, were merely a few oblique-lying
layers of upheaved granite, not much higher than the sandhills which
surrounded them, and there was no place where water could lodge even
during rains. Not a rise could be seen in any direction, except, of
course, from where we had come. We went on west five or six miles
farther to the end of these, just about sundown: and long, indeed, will
that peculiar sunset rest in my recollection. The sun as usual was a
huge and glaring ball of fire that with his last beams shot hot and
angry glances of hate at us, in rage at our defiance of his might. It
was so strange and so singular that only at this particular sunset, out
of the millions which have elapsed since this terrestrial ball first
floated in ether, that I, or indeed any White man, should stand upon
this wretched hill, so remote from the busy haunts of my fellow men. My
speculations upon the summit, if, indeed, so insignificant a mound can
be said to have a summit, were as wild and as incongruous as the regions
which stretched out before me. In the first place I could only conclude
that no water could exist in this region, at least as far as the sand
beds extend. I was now, though of course some distance to the south
also, about thirty miles to the west of the most western portion of the
Rawlinson Range.

<p>From that range no object had been visible above the sandhills in any
westerly direction, except these ridges I am now upon, and from these,
if any other ranges or hills anywhere within a hundred miles of the
Rawlinson existed, I must have sighted them. The inference to be drawn
in such a case was, that in all probability this kind of country would
remain unaltered for an enormous distance, possibly to the very banks of
the Murchison River itself. The question very naturally arose, Could the
country be penetrated by man, with only horses at his command,
particularly at such a heated time of year? Oh, would that I had camels!
What are horses in such a region and such a heated temperature as this?
The animals are not physically capable of enduring the terrors of this
country. I was now scarcely a hundred miles from the camp, and the
horses had plenty of water up to nearly halfway, but now they looked
utterly unable to return. What a strange maze of imagination the mind
can wander in when recalling the names of those separated features, the
only ones at present known to supply water in this latitude&mdash;that
is to say, the Murchison River, and this new-found Rawlinson Range,
named after two Presidents of the Royal Geographical Society of London.
The late and the present, the living and the dead, physically and
metaphysically also, are not these features, as the men, separated alike
by the great gulf of the unknown, by a vast stretch of that undiscovered
country from whose bourne no traveller returns?

<p>The sun went down, and I returned to my youthful companion with the
horses below. We were fifty-one miles from the water we had left. The
horses were pictures of misery, old Buggs's legs had swelled greatly
from the contusions he had received in falling on the slippery rocks.
The old black mare which I rode, though a sorry hack, looked worse than
I had ever seen her before, and even the youthful and light-heeled and
-hearted Diaway hung his head, and one could almost span him round the
flanks. The miserable appearance of the animals was caused as much by
want of food as want of water, for they have scarcely eaten a mouthful
since we left the pass; indeed, all they had seen to eat was not
inviting.

<p>We slowly left these desolate ridges behind, and at fifteen miles we
camped, Jimmy and I being both hungry and thirsty. Our small supply of
water only tantalised, without satisfying us whenever we took a
mouthful. We now found we had nothing to eat, at least nothing cooked,
and we had to sacrifice a drop of our stock of water to make a
Johnny-cake. It was late by the time we had eaten our supper, and I told
Jimmy he had better go to sleep if he felt inclined; I then caught and
tied up the horses, which had already rambled some distance away. When I
got back I found Jimmy had literally taken me at my word; for there he
was fast asleep among the coals and ashes of the fire, in which we had
cooked our cake. I rolled him over once or twice to prevent him catching
fire, but he did not awake. The night was very warm; I tried to lay down
on my rug, but I was in such pain all over from my recent accident, that
I could not remain still. I only waited to allow Jimmy a little sleep,
or else he would have fallen off his horse, and caused more delay. I
walked to, and tried to console, the horses. Sleepless and restless, I
could no longer remain.

<p>Fast asleep is Armor lying&mdash;do not touch him, do not wake him;
but Armor had to be awakened. But first I saddled and put up everything
on the horses. Jimmy's lips were cracked and parched, and his tongue dry
and half out of his mouth; I thought the kindest way to wake him was to
pour a little water into his mouth. Up he jumped in a moment, and away
we went at three o'clock in the morning, steering by the stars until
daylight; slowly moving over sandhill after sandhill. Soon after sunrise
we fell in with our outgoing track, and continued on, though we had
great trouble to keep the horses going at all, until we reached our old
encampment of the night before last, being now only fifteen miles from
the water. For the last few miles the horses had gone so dreadfully
slow, I thought they would give in altogether. So soon as they were
unsaddled they all lay down, shivering and groaning fearfully.

<p>To see a horse in a state of great thirst is terrible, the natural
cavity opens to an extraordinary size, and the creature strains and
makes the most lamentable noises. Mares are generally worse in these
cases than horses. Old Buggs and the mare were nearly dead. Diaway
suffered less than the others. We had yet a small quantity of water in
our bag, and it was absolutely necessary to sacrifice it to the horses
if we wished them ever to return. We had but three pints, which we gave
to Buggs and the mare, Diaway getting none. What the others got was only
just enough to moisten their tongues. Leaving this place at eleven a.m.,
we reached the gorge at sundown, travelling at the rate of only two
miles an hour. The day was hot, 104&deg; at eleven a.m. When we took the
saddles off the horses, they fell, as they could only stand when in
motion&mdash;old Buggs fell again in going up the gorge; they all fell,
they were so weak, and it took nearly an hour to get them up to the
bath. They were too weak to prevent themselves from slipping in,
swimming and drinking at the same time; at last old Buggs touched the
bottom with his heels, and stood upon his hind-legs with his forefeet
against the rock wall, and his head bent down between, and drank thus. I
never saw a horse drink in that fashion before.

<p>It was very late when we got them back to the camp-tree, where we let
them go without hobbles. The ants were as rampant as ever, and I passed
another night in walking up and down the glen. Towards midnight the
horses came again for water, but would not return, preferring to remain
till morning rather than risk a passage down in the dark.

<p>I went right up to the top of the mountain, and got an hour's peace
before the sun rose. In the morning all the horses' legs were puffed and
swelled, and they were frightened to move from the water. I had great
trouble in getting them down at all. It was impossible to ride them
away, and here we had to remain for another day, in this Inferno. Not
Dante's, gelid lowest circle of Hell, or city of Dis, could cause more
anguish, to a forced resident within its bounds, than did this frightful
place to me. Even though Moses did omit to inflict ants on Pharaoh, it
is a wonder Dante never thought to have a region of them full of wicked
wretches, eternally tortured with their bites, and stings, and smells.
Dante certainly was good at imagining horrors. But imagination can't
conceive the horror of a region swarming with ants and then Dante never
lived in an ant country, and had no conception what torture such
creatures can inflict. The smaller they are the more terrible. My only
consolation here was my marble bath, which the horses had polluted;
within its cool and shady depths I could alone find respite from my
tormentors. Oh, how earnestly did I wish that its waters were the waters
of oblivion, or that I could quaff some kind nepenthe, which would make
me oblivious of my woes, for the persistent attacks of the ants
unceasingly continued

<p class="poem">&ldquo;From night till morn, from morn till dewy eve.&rdquo;

<p>Here of course we had no dewy eve. Only one slight source of pleasure
at length occurred to me, and that was, that Jimmy began to shift about
a bit at last. On the 26th, with what delight I departed from this
odious gorge after another night of restlessness, agony, and misery, may
perhaps be imagined, though of course I was indebted to the glen for
water, and unless we actually give up our lives, we cannot give up that.
There was a good deal of water in this bath, as may be supposed when
horses could swim about in it. I called it Edith's Marble Bath, after my
niece, having named Glen Edith also after her on my former expedition.
The stone here is not actually marble, though very like it. I saw no
limestone in this range; the only approach to it is in the limestone
formation in the bed of the ancient Lake Christopher, mentioned as lying
to the west of the Rawlinson Range. The stone here was a kind of milky
quartz. We kept away as much as possible off the rough slopes of the
range, and got to Glen Helen at night, but old Buggs knocked up, and we
had to lead, beat, and drive him on foot, so that it was very late
before we got to the glen. We got all three horses back to the pass
early the next day. No natives had appeared, but the horses had never
been seen since I left. Oh, didn't I sleep that night! no ants. Oh,
happiness! I hadn't slept for a week.

<p>The next day, the 28th of February, Gibson and Jimmy went to look for
the mob of horses. There was a watering-place about two miles and a half
south from here, where emus used to water, and where the horses did
likewise; there they found all the horses. There was a very marked
improvement in their appearance, they had thriven splendidly. There is
fine green feed here, and it is a capital place for an explorer's depot,
it being such an agreeable and pretty spot. Gibson and Jimmy went to
hunt for emus, but we had none for supper. We got a supply of pigeons
for breakfast. Each day we more deeply lament that the end of our
ammunition is at hand. For dinner we got some hawks, crows, and parrots.
I don't know which of these in particular disagreed with me, but I
suppose the natural antipathy of these creatures to one another, when
finding themselves somewhat crowded in my interior, was casus belli
enough to set them quarrelling even after death and burial; all I knew
was the belli was going on in such a peculiar manner that I had to
abandon my dinner almost as soon as I had eaten it. It is now absolutely
necessary to kill a horse for food, as our ammunition is all but gone.
Mr. Tietkens and I went to find a spot to erect a smoke-house, which
required a soft bank for a flue; we got a place half a mile away.
Thermometer 104&deg;. Mr. Tietkens and I commenced operations at the
smoke-house, and the first thing we did was to break the axe handle.
Gibson, who thought he was a carpenter, blacksmith, and
jack-of-all-trades by nature, without art, volunteered to make a new
one, to which no one objected. The new handle lasted until the first
sapling required was almost cut in two, when the new handle came in two
also; so we had to return to the camp, while Gibson made another handle
on a new principle. With this we worked while Gibson and Jimmy shod a
couple of horses. A pair of poking brutes of horses are always away by
themselves, and Mr. Tietkens and I went to look for, but could not find
them. We took the shovel and filled up the emu water-hole with sand, so
that the horses had to show themselves with the others at the pass at
night. For two or three days we shod horses, shot pigeons, and worked at
the smoke-house. I did not like the notion of killing any of the horses,
and determined to make a trip eastwards, to see what the country in that
direction was like. We chopped up some rifle bullets for shot, to enable
Gibson and Jimmy to remain while we were away, as a retreat to Fort
Mueller from here was a bitter idea to me. Before I can attempt to
penetrate to the west, I must wait a change in the weather. The sky was
again becoming cloudy, and I had hopes of rain at the approaching
equinox.

<p>The three horses we required for the trip we put down through the
north side of the pass. On March 10th, getting our horses pretty easily,
we started early. As soon as we got clear of the pass on the north side,
almost immediately in front of us was another pass, lying nearly east,
which we reached in five miles. I called this the Weld Pass. From hence
we had a good view of the country farther east. A curved line of
abrupt-faced hills traversed the northern horizon; they had a peculiar
and wall-like appearance, and seemed to end at a singular-looking
pinnacle thirty-four or five miles away, and lying nearly east. This
abrupt-faced range swept round in a half circle, northwards, and thence
to the pinnacle. We travelled along the slopes of the Rawlinson Range,
thinking we might find some more good gorges before it ended, we being
now nearly opposite the Alice Falls. One or two rough and stony gullies,
in which there was no water, existed; the country was very rough. I
found the Rawlinson Range ended in fifteen or sixteen miles, at the
Mount Russell* mentioned before. Other ranges rose up to the east; the
intervening country seemed pretty well filled with scrub. We pushed on
for the pinnacle in the northern line, but could not reach it by night
as we were delayed en route by searching in several places for water.
The day was hot, close, cloudy, and sultry. In front of us now the
country became very scrubby as we approached the pinnacle, and for about
three miles it was almost impenetrable. We had to stop several times and
chop away limbs and boughs to get through, when we emerged on the bank
of a small gum creek, and, turning up its channel, soon saw some green
rushes in the bed. A little further up we saw more, brighter and
greener, and amongst them a fine little pond of water. Farther up, the
rocks rose in walls, and underneath them we found a splendid basin of
overflowing water, which filled several smaller ones below. We could
hear the sound of splashing and rushing waters, but could not see from
whence those sounds proceeded. This was such an excellent place that we
decided to remain for the rest of the day. The natives were all round
us, burning the country, and we could hear their cries. This morning we
had ridden through two fresh fires, which they lit, probably, to prevent
our progress; they followed us up to this water. I suppose they were
annoyed at our finding such a remarkably well-hidden place. It is a very
singular little glen. There are several small mounds of stones placed at
even distances apart, and, though the ground was originally all stones,
places like paths have been cleared between them. There was also a
large, bare, flat rock in the centre of these strange heaps, which were
not more than two and a half feet high. I concluded&mdash;it may be said
uncharitably, but then I know some of the ways and customs of these
people&mdash;that these are small kinds of teocallis, and that on the
bare rock already mentioned the natives have performed, and will again
perform, their horrid rites of human butchery, and that the drippings of
the pellucid fountains from the rocky basins above have been echoed and
re-echoed by the dripping fountains of human gore from the veins and
arteries of their bound and helpless victims. Though the day was hot,
the shade and the water were cool, and we could indulge in a most
luxurious bath. The largest basin was not deep, but the water was
running in and out of it, over the rocks, with considerable force. We
searched about to discover by its sound from whence it came, and found
on the left-hand side a crevice of white quartz-like stone, where the
water came down from the upper rocks, and ran away partly into the
basins and partly into rushes, under our feet. On the sloping face of
the white rock, and where the water ran down, was a small indent or
smooth chip exactly the size of a person's mouth, so that we
instinctively put our lips to it, and drank of the pure and gushing
element. I firmly believe this chip out of the rock has been formed by
successive generations of the native population, for ages placing their
mouths to and drinking at this spot; but whether in connection with any
sacrificial ceremonies or no, deponent knoweth, and sayeth not. The poet
Spenser, more than three hundred years ago, must have visited this
spot&mdash;at least, in imagination, for see how he describes it:&mdash;

<p class="poem">&ldquo;And fast beside there trickled softly down,
<br>A gentle stream, whose murmuring waves did play
<br>Amongst the broken stones, and made a sowne,
<br>To lull him fast asleep, who by it lay:
<br>The weary traveller wandering that way
<br>Therein might often quench his thirsty heat,
<br>And then by it, his weary limbs display; 
<br>(Whiles creeping slumber made him to forget
<br>His former pain), and wash away his toilsome sweet.&rdquo;

<h5><a name="i22">ILLUSTRATION 22</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t22.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>GILL'S PINNACLE.</h5>

<p>There is very poor grazing ground round this water. It is only
valuable as a wayside inn, or out. I called the singular feature which
points out this water to the wanderer in these western wilds, Gill's
Pinnacle, after my brother-in-law, and the water, Gordon's Springs,
after his son. In the middle of the night, rumblings of thunder were
heard, and lightnings illuminated the glen. When we were starting on the
following morning, some aborigines made their appearance, and vented
their delight at our appearance here by the emission of several howls,
yells, gesticulations, and indecent actions, and, to hem us in with a
circle of fire, to frighten us out, or roast us to death, they set fire
to the triodia all round. We rode through the flames, and away.

<hr>

<h5><a name="m3">Map 3</a></h5>
<h5>Australia, Showing The Several Routes.</h5>

<h4><a name="ch2.9">CHAPTER 2.9. FROM 12TH MARCH TO 19TH APRIL, 1874.</a></h4>
<blockquote>
The Rebecca.
The Petermann range.
Extraordinary place.
The Docker.
Livingstone's Pass.
A park.
Wall-like hills.
The Ruined Rampart.
Pink, green, and blue water.
Park-like scenery.
The Hull.
A high cone.
Sugar-loaf Peak.
Pretty hills and grassy valleys.
Name several features.
A wild Parthenius.
Surprise a tribe of natives.
An attack.
Mount Olga in view.
Overtaken by the enemy.
Appearance of Mount Olga.
Breakfast interrupted.
Escape by flight.
The depot.
Small circles of stone.
Springs.
Mark a tree.
Slaughter Terrible Billy.
A smoke signal.
Trouble in collecting the horses.
A friendly conference.
Leave Sladen Water.
Fort McKellar.
Revisit the Circus.
The west end of the range.
Name two springs.
</blockquote>
<p>The country towards the other ranges eastwards appeared poor and
scrubby. We went first to a hill a good deal south of east, and crossed
the dry bed of a broad, sandy, and stony creek running north. I called
it the Rebecca. From it we went to a low saddle between two hills, all
the while having a continuous range to the north; this was the extension
beyond the pinnacle of the wall-like crescent. A conspicuous mount in
this northern line I called Mount Sargood*. From this saddle we saw a
range of hills which ran up from the south-west, and, extending now
eastwards, formed a valley nearly in front of us. I called this new
feature the Petermann Range. In it, a peculiar notch existed, to which
we went. This new range was exceedingly wall-like and very steep, having
a serrated ridge all along; I found the notch to be only a rough gully,
and not a pass. We continued along the range, and at four miles farther
we came to a pass where two high hills stood apart, and allowed an
extremely large creek&mdash;that is to say, an extremely wide
one&mdash;whose trend was northerly, to come through. Climbing one of
the hills, I saw that the creek came from the south-west, and was here
joined by another from the south-east. There was an exceedingly fine and
pretty piece of park-like scenery, enclosed almost entirely by hills,
the Petermann Range forming a kind of huge outside wall, which enclosed
a mass of lower hills to the south, from which these two creeks find
their sources. This was a very extraordinary place; I searched in vain
in the pass for water, and could not help wondering where such a
watercourse could go to. The creek I called the Docker*. The pass and
park just within it I called Livingstone Pass and Learmonth* Park. Just
outside the pass, northerly, was a high hill I called Mount Skene*.

<h5><a name="i23">ILLUSTRATION 23</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t23.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>VIEW ON THE PETERMANN RANGE.</h5>

<p>Finding no water in the pass, we went to the more easterly of the two
creeks; it was very small compared with the Docker. It was now dusk, and
we had to camp without water. The day was hot. This range is most
singular in construction; it rises on either side almost
perpendicularly, and does not appear to have very much water about it;
the hills indeed seem to be mere walls, like the photographs of some of
the circular ranges of mountains in the moon. There was very fine grass,
and our horses stayed well. We had thunder and lightning, and the air
became a little cooled. The creek we were on appeared to rise in some
low hills to the south; though it meandered about so much, it was only
by travelling, we found that it came from a peculiar ridge, upon whose
top was a fanciful-looking, broken wall or rampart, with a little
pinnacle on one side. When nearly abreast, south, of this pinnacle, we
found some water in the creek-bed, which was now very stony. The water
was impregnated with ammonia from the excreta of emus, dogs, birds,
beasts, and fishes, but the horses drank it with avidity. Above this we
got some sweet water in rocks and sand. I called the queer-looking wall
the Ruined Rampart. There was a quantity of different kinds of water,
some tasting of ammonia, some saltish, and some putrid. A few ducks flew
up from these strange ponds. There was an overhanging ledge and cave,
which gave us a good shade while we remained here, the morning being
very hot. I called these MacBain's* Springs.

<p>Following the creek, we found in a few miles that it took its rise in
a mass of broken table-lands to the south. We still had the high walls
of the Petermann to the north, and very close to us. In five miles we
left this water-shed, and descended the rough bed of another creek
running eastwards; it also had some very queer water in it&mdash;there
were pink, green, and blue holes. Ducks were also here; but as we had no
gun, we could not get any. Some sweet water was procured by scratching
in the sand. This creek traversed a fine piece of open grassy
country&mdash;a very park-like piece of scenery; the creek joined
another, which we reached in two or three miles. The new creek was of
enormous width; it came from the low hills to the south and ran north,
where the Petermann parted to admit of its passage. The natives were
burning the country through the pass. Where on earth can it go? No doubt
water exists in plenty at its head, and very likely where the natives
are also; but there was none where we struck it. I called this the
Hull*.

<p>The main range now ran on in more disconnected portions than
formerly; their general direction was 25&deg; south of east. We still
had a mass of low hills to the south. We continued to travel under the
lea of the main walls, and had to encamp without water, having travelled
twenty-five miles from the Ruined Rampart. A high cone in the range I
called Mount Curdie*. The next morning I ascended the eastern end of
Mount Curdie. A long way off, over the tops of other hills, I could see
a peak bearing 27&deg; south of east; this I supposed was, as it ought
to be, the Sugar-loaf Hill, south westward from Mount Olga, and
mentioned previously. To the north there was a long wall-like line
stretching across the horizon, ending about north-east; this appeared to
be a disconnected range, apparently of the same kind as this, and having
gaps or passes to allow watercourses to run through; I called it Blood's
Range. I could trace the Hull for many miles, winding away a trifle west
of north. It is evident that there must exist some gigantic basin into
which the Rebecca, the Docker, and the Hull, and very likely several
more further east, must flow. I feel morally sure that the Lake Amadeus
of my former journey must be the receptacle into which these creeks
descend, and if there are creeks running into the lake from the south,
may there not also be others running in, from the north and west? The
line of the southern hills, connected with the Petermann wall, runs
across the bearing of the Sugar-loaf, so that I shall have to pass over
or through them to reach it. The outer walls still run on in
disconnected groups, in nearly the same direction as the southern hills,
forming a kind of back wall all the way.

<p>Starting away from our dry encampment, in seven miles we came to
where the first hills of the southern mass approached our line of march.
They were mostly disconnected, having small grassy valleys lying between
them, and they were festooned with cypress pines, and some pretty
shrubs, presenting also many huge bare rocks, and being very similar
country to that described at Ayers Range, through which I passed in
August. Here, however, the rocks were not so rounded and did not present
so great a resemblance to turtles. At two miles we reached a small creek
with gum timber, and obtained water by digging. The fluid was rather
brackish, but our horses were very glad of it, and we gave them a couple
of hours' rest. I called this Louisa's Creek. A hill nearly east of
Mount Curdie I called Mount Fagan; another still eastward of that I
called Mount Miller. At five miles from Louisa's Creek we struck another
and much larger one, running to the north; and upon our right hand,
close to the spot at which we struck it, was a rocky gorge, through and
over which the waters must tumble with a deafening roar in times of
flood. Just now the water was not running, but a quantity was lodged
among the sand under the huge boulders that fill up the channel. I
called this the Chirnside*. A hill in the main range eastward of Mount
Miller I called Mount Bowley. At ten miles from Louisa's Creek we camped
at another and larger watercourse than the Chirnside, which I called the
Shaw*. All these watercourses ran up north, the small joining the larger
ones&mdash;some independently, but all going to the north. Crossing two
more creeks, we were now in the midst of a broken, pine-clad, hilly
country, very well grassed and very pretty; the hills just named were on
the north, and low hills on the south. Ever since we entered the
Livingstone Pass, we have traversed country which is remarkably free
from the odious triodia. Travelling along in the cool of the next
morning through this &ldquo;wild Parthenius, tossing in waves of
pine,&rdquo; we came at six miles along our course towards the
Sugar-loaf, to a place where we surprised some natives hunting. Their
wonderfully acute perceptions of sight, sound, and scent almost
instantly apprised them of our presence, and as is usual with these
persons, the most frantic yells rent the air. Signal fires were
immediately lighted in all directions, in order to collect the scattered
tribe, and before we had gone a mile we were pursued by a multitude of
howling demons. A great number came running after us, making the most
unearthly noises, screeching, rattling their spears and other weapons,
with the evident intention of not letting us depart out of their coasts.
They drew around so closely and so thick, that they prevented our horses
from going on, and we were compelled to get out our revolvers for
immediate use; we had no rifles with us. A number from behind threw a
lot of spears; we were obliged to let the pack-horse go&mdash;one spear
struck him and made him rush and jump about. This drew their attention
from us for a moment; then, just as another flight of spears was let fly
at us, we plunged forward on our horses, and fired our revolvers. I was
horrified to find that mine would not go off, something was wrong with
the cartridges, and, though I snapped it four times, not a single
discharge took place. Fortunately Mr. Tietkens's went off all right, and
what with that, and the pack-horse rushing wildly about, trying to get
up to us, we drove the wretches off, for a time at least. They seemed
far more alarmed at the horses than at us, of whom they did not seem to
have any fear whatever. We induced them to retire for a bit, and we went
on, after catching the packhorse and breaking about forty of their
spears. I believe a wild Australian native would almost as soon be
killed as have his spears destroyed. The country was now much rougher,
the little grassy valleys having ceased, and we had to take to the
hills.

<h5><a name="i24">ILLUSTRATION 24</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t24.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>ATTACK AT THE FARTHEST EAST.</h5>

<p>While travelling along here we saw, having previously heard its
rustle, one of those very large iguanas which exist in this part of the
country. We had heard tales of their size and ferocity from the natives
near the Peake (Telegraph Station); I believe they call them Parenties.
The specimen we saw to-day was nearly black, and from head to tail over
five feet long. I should very much have liked to catch him; he would
make two or three good meals for both of us. Occasionally we got a
glimpse of the Sugar-loaf. At nine miles from where we had encountered
the enemy, we came to a bold, bare, rounded hill, and on ascending it,
we saw immediately below us, that this hilly country ceased immediately
to the east, but that it ran on south-easterly. Two or three small
creeks were visible below, then a thick scrubby region set in, bounded
exactly to the east by Mount Olga itself, which was sixty miles away.
There was a large area of bare rock all about this hill, and in a
crevice we got a little water and turned our horses out. While we were
eating our dinner, Mr. Tietkens gave the alarm that the enemy was upon
us again, and instantly we heard their discordant cries. The horses
began to gallop off in hobbles. These wretches now seemed determined to
destroy us, for, having considerably augmented their numbers, they
swarmed around us on all sides. Two of our new assailants were of
commanding stature, each being nearly tall enough to make two of
Tietkens if not of me. These giants were not, however, the most forward
in the onslaught. The horses galloped off a good way, with Tietkens
running after them: in some trepidation lest my revolver should again
play me false, though of course I had cleaned and re-loaded it, I
prepared to defend the camp. The assailants immediately swarmed round
me, those behind running up, howling, until the whole body were within
thirty yards of me; then they came on more slowly. I could now see that
aggression on my part was the only thing for it; I must try to carry the
situation with a coup. I walked up to them very fast and pointed my
revolver at them. Some, thinking I was only pointing my finger, pointed
their fingers at me. They all had their spears ready and quivering in
their wommerahs, and I am sure I should in another instant have been
transfixed with a score or two of spears, had not Mr. Tietkens, having
tied up the horses, come running up, which caused a moment's diversion,
and both our revolvers going off properly this time, we made our foes
retreat at a better pace than they had advanced. Some of their spears
were smashed in their hands; most of them dropped everything they
carried, and went scudding away over the rocks as fast as fear and
astonishment would permit. We broke all the spears we could lay our
hands on, nearly a hundred, and then finished our dinner.

<p>I would here remark that the natives of Australia have two kinds of
spears&mdash;namely, the game- and the war-spear. The game-spear is a
thick, heavy implement, barbed with two or three teeth, entirely made of
wood, and thrown by the hand. These are used in stalking large game,
such as emus, kangaroos, etc., when the hunter sneaks on the quarry,
and, at a distance of forty to fifty yards, transfixes it, though he may
not just at the moment kill the animal, it completely retards its
progress, and the hunter can then run it to earth. The war-spears are
different and lighter, the hinder third of them being reed, the other
two-thirds mulga wood; they are barbed, and thrown with a wommerah, to a
distance up to 150 yards, and are sometimes ten feet long.

<p>After our meal we found a better supply of water in a creek about two
miles southward, where there was both a rock reservoir and sand water.
We had now come about 130 miles from Sladen Water, and had found waters
all the way; Mount Olga was again in sight. The question was, is the
water there permanent? Digging would be of no avail there, it is all
solid rock; either the water is procured on the surface or there is
none. I made this trip to the east, not with any present intention of
retreat, but to discover whether there was a line of waters to retreat
upon, and to become acquainted with as much country as possible.

<h5><a name="i25">ILLUSTRATION 25</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t25.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>MOUNT OLGA, FROM SIXTY MILES TO THE WEST.</h5>

<p>The sight of Mount Olga, and the thoughts of retreating to the east, acted like a spur to drive me farther to the west; we therefore turned our backs upon Mount Olga and the distant east. I named this gorge, where we found a good supply of water, Glen Robertson*, and the creek that comes from it, Casterton Creek. Mount Olga, as I said, bore nearly due east; its appearance from here, which we always called the farthest east, was most wonderful and grotesque. It seemed like five or six enormous pink hay-stacks, leaning for support against one another, with open cracks or fissures between, which came only about half-way down its face. I am sure this is one of the most extraordinary geographical features on the face of the earth, for, as I have said, it is composed of several enormous rounded stone shapes, like the backs of several monstrous kneeling pink elephants. At sixty miles to the west its outline is astonishing. The highest point of all, which is 1500 feet above the surrounding country, looked at from here, presents the appearance of a gigantic pink damper, or Chinese gong viewed edgeways, and slightly out of the perpendicular. We did not return to the scene of our fight and our dinner, but went about two miles northerly beyond it, when we had to take to the rough hills again; we had to wind in and out amongst these, and in four miles struck our outgoing tracks. We found the natives had followed us up step by step, and had tried to stamp the marks of the horses' hoofs out of the ground with their own. They had walked four or five abreast, and consequently made a path more easy for us to remark. We saw them raising puffs of smoke behind us, but did not anticipate any more annoyance from them. We pushed on till dark, to the spot where we had met them in the morning; here we encamped without water.

<p>Before daylight I went for the horses, while Mr. Tietkens got the swag and things ready to start away. I returned, tied up the horses, and we had just begun to eat the little bit of damper we had for breakfast, when Mr. Tietkens, whose nervous system seems particularly alive to any native approach, gave the alarm, that our pursuers were again upon us, and we were again saluted with their hideous outcries. Breakfast was now a matter of minor import; instantly we slung everything on to the horses, and by the time that was done we were again surrounded. I almost wished we had only one of our rifles which we had left at home. We could do nothing with such an insensate, insatiable mob of wretches as these; as a novelist would say, we flung ourselves into our saddles as fast as we could, and fairly gave our enemies the slip, through the speed of our horses, they running after us like a pack of yelping curs, in maddening bray. The natives ran well for a long distance, nearly three miles, but the pace told on them at last and we completely distanced them. Had we been unsuccessful in finding water in this region and then met these demons, it is more than probable we should never have escaped. I don't sigh to meet them again; the great wonder was that they did not sneak upon and spear us in the night, but the fact of our having a waterless encampment probably deterred them. We kept at a good pace till we reached the Chirnside, and gave our horses a drink, but went on twenty miles to Louisa's Creek before we rested. We only remained here an hour. We saw no more of our enemies, but pushed on another twenty-two miles, till we reached the Hull, where we could find no water.

<p>On the subject of the natives, I may inform my reader that we often
see places at native camps where the ground has been raised for many
yards, like a series of babies' graves; these are the sleeping-places of
the young and unmarried men, they scoop the soil out of a place and
raise it up on each side: these are the bachelors' beds&mdash;twenty,
thirty, and forty are sometimes seen in a row; on top of each raised
portion of soil two small fires are kept burning in lieu of blankets.
Some tribes have their noses pierced, others not. Some have front teeth
knocked out, and others not. In some tribes only women have teeth
knocked out.

<p>Our supply of food now consisted of just sufficient flour to make two
small Johnny-cakes, and as we still had over eighty miles to go, we
simply had to do without any food all day, and shall have precisely the
same quantity to-morrow&mdash;that is to say, none. In eleven or twelve
miles next morning we reached the caves near the Ruined Rampart, where
we rested and allowed the horses to feed. At night we camped again
without food or water. The morning after, we reached Gill's Pinnacle
early, and famished enough to eat each other. We mixed up, cooked, and
ate our small remnant of flour. The last two days have been reasonably
cool; anything under 100&deg; is cool in this region. We found that
during our absence the natives had placed a quantity of gum-leaves and
small boughs into the interstices of the small mounds of stone, or as I
call them, teocallis, which I mentioned previously; this had evidently
been done so soon as we departed, for they were now dead and dry. After
bathing, remounting, we made good another twenty miles, and camped in
triodia and casuarina sandhills. We reached the camp at the pass by nine
a.m. on the 19th, having been absent ten days. Gibson and Jimmy were
there certainly, and nothing had gone wrong, but these two poor fellows
looked as pale as ghosts. Gibson imagined we had gone to the west, and
was much perturbed by our protracted absence.

<p>The water in the open holes did not agree with either Gibson or
Jimmy, and, when starting, I had shown them where to dig for a spring of
fresh water, and where I had nearly got a horse bogged one day when I
rode there, to see what it was like. They had not, however, made the
slightest effort to look for or dig it out. I gave them the last of our
medical spirits, only half a bottle of rum, at starting. They had shot
plenty of parrots and pigeons, and one or two ducks; but, now that the
ammunition is all but gone, a single shot is of the greatest
consideration. We have only a few pounds of flour, and a horse we must
kill, in order to live ourselves. A few finishing touches to the
smoke-house required doing; this Mr. Tietkens and Jimmy went to do,
while Gibson and I cut up a tarpaulin to make large water-bags, and with
a small lot of new canvas made four pairs of water-bags that would hold
seven to eight gallons each. These, when greased with horse fat or oil,
ought to enable me to get out some distance from the western extremity
of this range. Poor old Terrible Billy came to water early, and I was
much pleased with his appearance, but his little house not being quite
ready and the bags not completed, he has a day or so longer of grace. I
had looked forward eagerly to the time of the autumnal equinox, in hopes
of rain. But all we got, however, was three dry thunderstorms and a few
drops of rain, which fell upon us en route to some more favoured land.
The next day being Sunday, we had a day of rest.

<p>Near the place to which I had been dragged, there were several little
heaps of stones, or rather, as a general rule, small circles of piled-up
stones removed from where they had formerly lain, with the exception of
a solitary one left in the centre. For what purpose the natives could
have made or cleared these places I cannot tell; they were reserved for
some ceremonies, no doubt, like those at Gill's Pinnacle. The last few
days have been very cool, the thermometer indicating one day only
78&deg; in the shade. On the 25th Gibson took the shovel to open out the
springs formerly mentioned; they lie in the midst of several little
clumps of young eucalyptus suckers, the ground all round being a morass,
in which a man might almost sink, were it not for the thick growth of
rushes. The water appears to flow over several acres of ground,
appearing and disappearing in places. The moment a small space was
cleared of the rushes, it became evident that the water was perpetually
flowing, and we stood on rushes over our ankles in black soil. Gibson
dug a small tank, and the water soon cleared for itself a beautiful
little crystal basin of the purest liquid, much more delicious and
wholesome than the half brackish water in the bed of the creek. These
springs have their origin at the foot of the hill on the eastern side of
this pass, and percolate into the creek-bed, where the water becomes
impregnated with salt or soda. The water in the open holes in the
creek-bed is always running; I thought the supply came from up the
creek&mdash;now, however, I find it comes from these fresh-water
springs. I branded a tree in this pass E. Giles with date.

<p>On the 25th March the plump but old and doomed Terrible Billy
confidingly came to water at eleven o'clock at night. He took his last
drink, and was led a captive to the camp, where he was tied up all
night. The old creature looked remarkably well, and when tied up close
to the smoke-house&mdash;innocent, unsuspecting creature of what the
craft and subtilty of the devil or man might work against him&mdash;he
had begun to eat a bunch or two of grass, when a rifle bullet crashing
through his forehead terminated his existence. There was some little fat
about him; it took some time to cut up the meat into strips, which were
hung on sticks and placed in tiers in the pyramidal smoke-house.

<p>We had a fine supper of horse-steaks, which we relished amazingly.
Terrible Billy tasted much better than the cob we had killed at Elder's
Creek. What fat there was on the inside was very yellow, and so soft it
would not harden at all. With a very fat horse a salvage of fat might be
got on portions of the meat, but nearly every particle of the fat drips
into oil. The smoke-house is now the object of our solicitude; a column
of smoke ascends from the immolated Billy night and day. Our continual
smoke induced some natives to make their appearance, but they kept at a
very respectful distance, coming no nearer than the summit of the hills,
on either side of the pass, from whence they had a good bird's-eye view
of our proceedings. They saluted us with a few cheers, i.e. groans, as
they watched us from their observatory.

<p>The weather is now beautifully cool, fine, and clear. We had now
finished smoking Terrible Billy who still maintained his name, for he
was terribly tough. I intended to make an attempt to push westward from
the end of this range, and all we required was the horses to carry us
away; but getting them was not the easiest thing in the world, for they
were all running loose. Although they have to come to the pass to get
water, there is water for more than a mile, and some come sneaking
quietly down without making the slightest noise, get a drink, and then,
giving a snort of derision to let us know, off they go at a gallop. They
run in mobs of twos and threes; so now we have systematically to watch
for, catch, and hobble them. I set a watch during the night, and as they
came, they were hobbled and put down through the north side of the pass.
They could not get back past the camp without the watchman both hearing
and seeing them; for it was now fine moonlight the greater part of the
night. We had ten or twelve horses, but only two came to-night for
water, and these got away before we could catch them, as two of the
party let them drink before catching them. None came in the day, and
only two the next night; these we caught, hobbled, and put with the
others, which were always trying to get back past the camp, so to-night
I had a horse saddled to be sure of catching any that came, and keeping
those we had. During my watch, the second, several horses tried to pass
the camp. I drove them back twice, and had no more trouble with them;
but in the morning, when we came to muster them, every hoof was gone. Of
course nobody had let them go! Every other member of the party informed
me that they were ready to take their dying oaths that the horses never
got away in their watches, and that neither of them had any trouble
whatever in driving them back, etc.; so I could only conclude that I
must have let them all go myself, because, as they were gone, and nobody
else let them go, why, of course, I suppose I must. After breakfast Mr.
Tietkens went to try to recover them, but soon returned, informing me he
had met a number of natives at the smoke-house, who appeared very
peaceably inclined, and who were on their road down through the pass.
This was rather unusual; previous to our conflict they had never come
near us, and since that, they had mostly given us a wide berth, and
seemed to prefer being out of the reach of our rifles than otherwise.
They soon appeared, although they kept away on the east side of the
creek. They then shouted, and when I cooeyed and beckoned them to
approach, they sat down in a row. I may here remark that the word cooey,
as representing the cry of all Australian aborigines, belonged
originally to only one tribe or region, but it has been carried about by
whites from tribe to tribe, and is used by the civilised and
semi-civilised races; but wild natives who have never seen whites use no
such cry. There were thirteen of these men. Mr. Tietkens and I went over
to them, and we had quite a friendly conference. Their leader was an
individual of a very uncertain age&mdash;he might have been forty, or he
might have been eighty (in the shade). (This was written some time
before the &ldquo;Mikado&rdquo; appeared.&mdash;E.G.) His head was
nearly bald on the crown, but some long grizzly locks depended below the
bald patch.

<p>The others were generally much younger, but some of them, though not
clean past their youth, yet had about them some smacks of the saltness
of age. The old man was the most self-possessed; the others displayed a
nervous tremor at our approach; those nearest us sidled closer to their
more remote and, as they no doubt thought, fortunate fellows; they were
all extremely ill-favoured in face, but their figures were not so
outres, except that they appeared emaciated and starved, otherwise they
would have been men of good bulk. Their legs were straight, and their
height would average five feet nine inches, all being much taller than
Mr. Tietkens or I. Two remained at a distance; these had a great charge
to superintend, it being no less than that of the trained wild dogs
belonging to the tribe. There were three large dogs, two of a light
sandy, and one of a kind of German colley colour. These natives were
armed with an enormous number of light barbed spears, each having about
a dozen. They do not appear to use the boomerang very generally in this
part of the continent, although we have occasionally picked up portions
of old ones in our travels. Mr. Tietkens gave each of these natives a
small piece of sugar, with which they seemed perfectly charmed, and in
consequence patted the seat of their intellectual&mdash;that is to say,
digestive&mdash;organs with great gusto, as the saccharine morsels
liquefied in their mouths. They seemed highly pleased with the
appearance and antics of my little dog, who both sat and stood up at
command in the midst of them.

<p>They kept their own dogs away, I presume, for fear we might want to
seize them for food&mdash;wild dog standing in about the same relation
to a wild Australian native, as a sheep would to a white man. They eat
all the grown dogs they can catch, but keep a few pups to train for
hunting, and wonderful hunting dogs they are. Hence their fear of our
taking their pets. The old gentleman was much delighted with my watch. I
then showed them some matches, and the instantaneous ignition of some
grass in the midst of them was rather too startling a phenomenon for
their weak minds; some of them rose to depart. The old man, however,
reassured them. I presented him with several matches, and showed him how
to use them; he was very much pleased, and having no pockets in his
coat&mdash;for I might have previously remarked they were arrayed in
Nature's simple garb&mdash;he stuck them in his hair. Mr. Tietkens,
during this time, was smoking, and the sight of smoke issuing from his
mouth seemed to disturb even the old man's assumed imperturbability, and
he kept much closer to me in consequence. I next showed them a revolver,
and tried to explain the manner of using it. Most of them repeated the
word bang when I said it; but when I fired it off they were too agitated
to take much notice of its effect on the bark of a tree, which might
otherwise have served to point a moral or adorn a tale in the oral
traditions of their race for ever. At the report of the revolver all
rose and seemed in haste to go, but I would not allow my dear old friend
to depart without a few last friendly expressions. One of these natives
was pitted with small-pox. They seemed to wish to know where we were
going, and when I pointed west, and by shaking my fingers intimated a
long way, many of them pulled their beards and pointed to us, and the
old man gave my beard a slight pull and pointed west; this I took to
signify that they were aware that other white people like us lived in
that direction. The conference ended, and they departed over the hills
on the east side of the pass, but it was two hours before they
disappeared.

<p>All the horses which had escaped in hobbles the other night now came
to water, and were put through the pass again. During the day we secured
the remainder, and had them altogether at last. It was noon of the 7th
April when we left this delectable pass, again en route for the west,
hoping to see Sladen Water and the Pass of the Abencerrages no more. At
fourteen miles we were delayed by Banks, carrying my boxes, as a strap
broke, and he set to work to free himself of everything. Fortunately,
one box with the instruments, quicksilver, etc., remained firm;
everything got bucked and kicked out of the other; buckskin gloves,
matches, mineral collection, rifle cartridges, bottles of medicine,
eye-water, socks, specimens of plants, etc., all sent flying about in
the thick triodia, for the brute went full gallop all round the mob of
horses, trying to get rid of the other box and his saddle. In spite of
all his efforts they remained, and it was wonderful how many things we
recovered, though some were lost. By this time it was dusk, and the
evening set in very cool. I now intended to encamp at the fine spring I
named Fort McKellar, four miles east of the Gorge of Tarns. There was a
fine and heavy clump of eucalyptus timber there, and a very convenient
and open sheet of water for the use of the camp. I had always looked
upon this as an excellent and desirable spot for an encampment, though
we had never used it yet. The grass, however, is neither good nor
abundant; the country around being stony and sterile, except down the
immediate valley of the channel, which was not wide enough to graze a
mob of horses for long. We reached it again on the 9th of April.

<p>My reader will remember that in January I had found a creek with a
large, rocky tarn of water, which I called the Circus; it was the last
westerly water on the range, and I was anxious to know how it was
holding out, as it must be our point of departure for any farther
efforts to the west. It was twenty miles from here, and Gibson and I
rode up the range to inspect it. On our road we revisited the Gorge of
Tarns; the water there had shrunk very much. Here we had left some
useless articles, such as three pack-saddle frames, a broken
thermometer, and sundry old gear; all these things the natives had
carried away. I had a good swim in the old tarn, and proceeded, reaching
the Circus early in the afternoon. There was the solitary eagle still
perched upon its rock. The water had become greatly reduced; ten weeks
and two days had elapsed since I was here; and in another fortnight it
would all be gone. If I intend doing anything towards the west it must
be done at once or it will be too late. The day was warm&mdash;102&deg;.
A large flock of galars, a slate-coloured kind of cockatoo, and a good
talking bird, and hundreds of pigeons came to water at night; but having
no ammunition, we did not bring a gun. The water was so low in the hole
that the horses could not reach it, and had to be watered with a canvas
bucket. I have said previously, that at the extremity of this range
there lay an ancient lake bed, but I had only been a mile or two upon
it. Further on there were indications of salt, and as we were quite out
of that commodity, we rode over to try and procure some, but none
existed, and we had to be satisfied with a quantity of samphire bushes
and salt-bush leaves, which we took home with us, returning to Fort
McKellar the following day. I called the salt feature Lake Christopher.
We remained at the depot for a day or two, preparing for a start to the
west, and cut rails, and fixed up some palisading for the fort. I
delayed entering that evidently frightful bed of sand which lay to the
west, in hopes of a change, for I must admit I dreaded to attempt the
western country while the weather was still so hot and oppressive.
Though the thermometer may not appear to rise extraordinarily high in
this region, yet the weight and pressure of the atmosphere is sometimes
almost overpowering. Existence here is in a permanent state of languor,
and I am sure the others in the party feel it more than I do, being
consumed with the fire or frenzy of renown for opening unknown lands,
all others have to pale their ineffectual fires before it. No doubt, not
being well fed is some cause for our feelings of lassitude. The horses
are also affected with extreme languor, as well as the men. The
thermometer to-day registered only 99&deg;. The horses are always trying
to roam away back to Sladen Water, and Mr. Tietkens and I had a walk of
many miles after them to-day. I was getting really anxious about the
water at the Circus. I scarcely dare to grapple with that western desert
in such weather, yet, if I do not, I shall lose the Circus water.

<p>Although we were near the change of the moon, I despaired of a change
of weather. I did not ask for rain, for it would be useless on the
desert sands; I only wanted the atmosphere to become a little less
oppressive. I had not been round the extreme western end of the range,
though we had been to it, and I thought perhaps some creek might be
found to contain a good rock-hole, perhaps as far to the west, if not
farther, than the Circus; on the opposite side of the range, Mr.
Tietkens and Gibson, who volunteered, went to see what they could
discover, also to visit the Circus so as to report upon it. Jimmy and I
remained and erected some more woodwork&mdash;that is to say, rails and
uprights&mdash;for the fort. We walked over to re-inspect&mdash;Jimmy
had not seen them&mdash;two glens and springs lying within a couple of
miles to the east of us, the first being about three-quarters of a mile
off. I now named it Tyndall's Springs. Here a fine stream of running
water descends much further down the channel than at any other spring in
the range, though it spreads into no open sheets of water as at the
depot; there was over a mile of running water. The channel is thickly
set with fine tall bulrushes. There is a very fine shady clump of
gum-trees here, close to the base of the range. The next spring, about a
mile farther east, I called Groener's Springs; it had not such a strong
flow of water, but the trees in the clump at the head of it were much
larger and more numerous than at the last. Some of the trees, as was the
case at Fort McKellar, were of very considerable size. Late at night Mr.
Tietkens and Gibson returned, and reported that, although they had
discovered a new rock-hole with seven or eight feet of water in it, it
was utterly useless; for no horses could get within three-quarters of a
mile of it, and they had been unable to water their horses, having had
to do so at the Circus. They said the water there was holding out well;
but Gibson said it had diminished a good deal since he and I were there
a week ago. On the 19th April I told the party it was useless to delay
longer, and that I had made up my mind to try what impression a hundred
miles would make on the country to the west. I had waited and waited for
a change, not to say rain, and it seemed as far off as though the month
were November, instead of April. I might still keep on waiting, until
every ounce of our now very limited supply of rations was gone. We were
now, and had been since Billy was killed, living entirely on smoked
horse; we only had a few pounds of flour left, which I kept in case of
sickness; the sugar was gone; only a few sticks of tobacco for Mr.
Tietkens and Gibson&mdash;Jimmy and I not smoking&mdash;remained. I had
been disappointed at the Charlotte Waters at starting, by not being able
to get my old horse, and had started from the Alberga, lacking him and
the 200 pounds of flour he would have carried&mdash;a deficiency which
considerably shortened my intended supply. A comparatively enormous
quantity of flour had been lost by the continual rippings of bags in the
scrubs farther south, and also a general loss in weight of nearly ten
per cent., from continual handling of the bags, and evaporation. We had
supplemented our supplies in a measure at Fort Mueller and the Pass,
with pigeons and wallabies, as long as our ammunition lasted, and now it
was done. When I made known my intention, Gibson immediately volunteered
to accompany me, and complained of having previously been left so often
and so long in the camp. I much preferred Mr. Tietkens, as I felt sure
the task we were about to undertake was no ordinary one, and I knew Mr.
Tietkens was to be depended upon to the last under any circumstances,
but, to please Gibson, he waived his right, and, though I said nothing,
I was not at all pleased.

<hr>

<h4><a name="ch2.10">CHAPTER 2.10. FROM 20TH APRIL TO 21ST MAY, 1874.</a></h4>
<blockquote>
Gibson and I depart for the west.
His brother with Franklin.
Desert oaks.
Smoked horse.
Ants innumerable.
Turn two horses back.
Kegs in a tree.
No views.
Instinct of horses.
Sight a distant range.
Gibson's horse dies.
Give him the remaining one.
The last ever seen of him.
Alone in the desert.
Carry a keg.
Unconscious.
Where is the relief party.
A dying wallaby.
Footfalls of a galloping horse.
Reach the depot.
Exhausted.
Search for the lost.
Gibson's Desert.
Another smoke-house.
Jimmy attacked at Fort McKellar.
Another equine victim.
Final retreat decided upon.
Marks of floods.
Peculiarity of the climate.
Remarks on the region.
Three natives visit us.
</blockquote>
<h5><a name="i26">ILLUSTRATION 26</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t26.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>THE CIRCUS.</h5>

<p>APRIL 20TH, 1874.

<p>Gibson and I having got all the gear we required, took a week's
supply of smoked horse, and four excellent horses, two to ride, and two
to carry water, all in fine condition. I rode the Fair Maid of Perth, an
excellent walker; I gave Gibson the big ambling horse, Badger, and we
packed the big cob, a splendid bay horse and fine weight-carrier, with a
pair of waterbags that contained twenty gallons at starting. The other
horse was Darkie, a fine, strong, nuggetty-black horse, who carried two
five-gallon kegs of water and our stock of smoked horse, rugs, etc. We
reached the Circus, at twenty miles, early, and the horses had time to
feed and fill themselves after being watered, though the grass was very
poor.

<p>21ST APRIL.

<p>While I went for the horses Gibson topped up the water-bags and kegs,
and poured a quantity of water out of the hole on to a shallow place, so
that if we turned any horses back, they could drink without
precipitating themselves into the deep and slippery hole when they
returned here. As we rode away, I remarked to Gibson that the day, was
the anniversary of Burke and Wills's return to their depot at Cooper's
Creek, and then recited to him, as he did not appear to know anything
whatever about it, the hardships they endured, their desperate struggles
for existence, and death there, and I casually remarked that Wills had a
brother who also lost his life in the field of discovery. He had gone
out with Sir John Franklin in 1845. Gibson then said, &ldquo;Oh! I had a
brother who died with Franklin at the North Pole, and my father had a
deal of trouble to get his pay from government.&rdquo; He seemed in a
very jocular vein this morning, which was not often the case, for he was
usually rather sulky, sometimes for days together, and he said,
&ldquo;How is it, that in all these exploring expeditions a lot of
people go and die?&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;I don't know, Gibson, how it
is, but there are many dangers in exploring, besides accidents and
attacks from the natives, that may at any time cause the death of some
of the people engaged in it; but I believe want of judgment, or
knowledge, or courage in individuals, often brought about their deaths.
Death, however, is a thing that must occur to every one sooner or
later.&rdquo; To this he replied, &ldquo;Well, I shouldn't like to die
in this part of the country, anyhow.&rdquo; In this sentiment I quite
agreed with him, and the subject dropped. At eleven miles we were not
only clear of the range, but had crossed to the western side of Lake
Christopher, and were fairly enclosed in the sandhills, which were of
course covered with triodia. Numerous fine casuarinas grew in the
hollows between them, and some stunted blood-wood-trees, (red gum,)
ornamented the tops of some of the sandhills. At twenty-two miles, on a
west course, we turned the horses out for an hour. It was very warm,
there was no grass. The horses rested in the shade of a desert oak-tree,
while we remained under another. These trees are very handsome, with
round umbrageous tops, the leaves are round and fringe-like. We had a
meal of smoked horse; and here I discovered that the bag with our supply
of horseflesh in it held but a most inadequate supply for two of us for
a week, there being scarcely sufficient for one. Gibson had packed it at
starting, and I had not previously seen it. The afternoon was
oppressively hot&mdash;at least it always seems so when one is away from
water. We got over an additional eighteen miles, making a day's stage of
forty.

<p>The country was all sandhills. The Rawlinson Range completely
disappeared from view, even from the tops of the highest sandhills, at
thirty-five miles. The travelling, though heavy enough, had not been so
frightful as I had anticipated, for the lines of sandhills mostly ran
east and west, and by turning about a bit we got several hollows between
them to travel in. Had we been going north or south, north-easterly or
south-westerly, it would have been dreadfully severe. The triodia here
reigns supreme, growing in enormous bunches and plots, and standing
three and four feet high, while many of the long dry tops are as high as
a man. This gives the country the appearance of dry grassy downs; and as
it is dotted here and there with casuarina and blood-wood-trees, and
small patches of desert shrubs, its general appearance is by no means
displeasing to the eye, though frightful to the touch. No sign of the
recent presence of natives was anywhere visible, nor had the triodia
been burnt for probably many years. At night we got what we in this
region may be excused for calling a grass flat, there being some bunches
of a thin and wiry kind of grass, though white and dry as a chip. I
never saw the horses eat more than a mouthful or two of it anywhere, but
there was nothing else, and no water.

<p>22ND.

<p>The ants were so troublesome last night, I had to shift my bed
several times. Gibson was not at all affected by them, and slept well.
We were in our saddles immediately after daylight. I was in hopes that a
few miles might bring about a change of country, and so it did, but not
an advantageous one to us. At ten miles from camp the horizon became
flatter, the sandhills fell off, and the undulations became covered with
brown gravel, at first very fine. At fifty-five miles it became coarser,
and at sixty miles it was evident the country was becoming firmer, if
not actually stony. Here we turned the horses out, having come twenty
miles. I found one of our large waterbags leaked more than I expected,
and our supply of water was diminishing with distance. Here Gibson
preferred to keep the big cob to ride, against my advice, instead of
Badger, so, after giving Badger and Darkie a few pints of water each,
Gibson drove them back on the tracks about a mile and let them go, to
take their own time and find their own way back to the Circus. They both
looked terribly hollow and fatigued, and went away very slowly. Sixty
miles through such a country as this tells fearfully upon a horse. The
poor brutes were very unwilling to leave us, as they knew we had some
water, and they also knew what a fearful region they had before them to
reach the Circus again.

<p>We gave the two remaining horses all the water contained in the two
large water-bags, except a quart or two for ourselves. This allowed them
a pretty fair drink, though not a circumstance to what they would have
swallowed. They fed a little, while we remained here. The day was warm
enough. The two five-gallon kegs with water we hung in the branches of a
tree, with the packsaddles, empty water-bags, etc. of the other two
horses. Leaving the Kegs&mdash;I always called this place by that
name&mdash;we travelled another twenty miles by night, the country being
still covered with small stones and thickly clothed with the tall
triodia. There were thin patches of mulga and mallee scrub occasionally.
No view could be obtained to the west; all round us, north, south, east,
and west, were alike, the undulations forming the horizons were not
generally more than seven or eight miles distant from one another, and
when we reached the rim or top of one, we obtained exactly the same view
for the next seven or eight miles. The country still retained all the
appearance of fine, open, dry, grassy downs, and the triodia tops waving
in the heated breeze had all the semblance of good grass. The afternoon
had been very oppressive, and the horses were greatly disinclined to
exert themselves, though my mare went very well. It was late by the time
we encamped, and the horses were much in want of water, especially the
big cob, who kept coming up to the camp all night, and tried to get at
our water-bags, pannikins, etc. The instinct of a horse when in the
first stage of thirst in getting hold of any utensil that ever had water
in it, is surprising and most annoying, but teaching us by most
persuasive reasons how akin they are to human things. We had one small
water-bag hung in a tree. I did not think of this just at the moment,
when my mare came straight up to it and took it in her teeth, forcing
out the cork and sending the water up, which we were both dying to
drink, in a beautiful jet, which, descending to earth, was irrevocably
lost. We now had only a pint or two left. Gibson was now very sorry he
had exchanged Badger for the cob, as he found the cob very dull and
heavy to get on; this was not usual, for he was generally a most willing
animal, but he would only go at a jog while my mare was a fine walker.
There had been a hot wind from the north all day. The following morning
(23rd) there was a most strange dampness in the air, and I had a vague
feeling, such as must have been felt by augurs, and seers of old, who
trembled as they told, events to come; for this was the last day on
which I ever saw Gibson. It was a lamentable day in the history of this
expedition. The horizon to the west was hid in clouds. We left the camp
even before daylight, and as we had camped on the top of a rim, we knew
we had seven or eight miles to go before another view could be obtained.
The next rim was at least ten miles from the camp, and there was some
slight indications of a change.

<h5><a name="i27">ILLUSTRATION 27</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t27.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>FIRST VIEW OF THE ALFRED AND MARIE RANGE.</h5>

<p>We were now ninety miles from the Circus water, and 110 from Fort
McKellar. The horizon to the west was still obstructed by another rise
three or four miles away; but to the west-north-west I could see a line
of low stony ridges, ten miles off. To the south was an isolated little
hill, six or seven miles away. I determined to go to the ridges, when
Gibson complained that his horse could never reach them, and suggested
that the next rise to the west might reveal something better in front.
The ridges were five miles away, and there were others still farther
preventing a view. When we reached them we had come ninety-eight miles
from the Circus. Here Gibson, who was always behind, called out and said
his horse was going to die, or knock up, which are synonymous terms in
this region. Now we had reached a point where at last a different view
was presented to us, and I believed a change of country was at hand, for
the whole western, down to the south-western, horizon was broken by
lines of ranges, being most elevated at the south-western end. They were
all notched and irregular, and I believed formed the eastern extreme of
a more elevated and probably mountainous region to the west. The ground
we now stood upon, and for a mile or two past, was almost a stony hill
itself, and for the first time in all the distance we had come, we had
reached a spot where water might run during rain, though we had not seen
any place where it could lodge. Between us and the hilly horizon to the
west the country seemed to fall into a kind of long valley, and it
looked dark, and seemed to have timber in it, and here also the natives
had formerly burnt the spinifex, but not recently. The hills to the west
were twenty-five to thirty miles away, and it was with extreme regret I
was compelled to relinquish a farther attempt to reach them. Oh, how
ardently I longed for a camel! how ardently I gazed upon this scene! At
this moment I would even my jewel eternal, have sold for power to span
the gulf that lay between! But it could not be, situated as I was;
compelled to retreat&mdash;of course with the intention of coming again
with a larger supply of water&mdash;now the sooner I retreated the
better. These far-off hills were named the Alfred and Marie Range, in
honour of their Royal Highnesses the Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh.
Gibson's horse having got so bad had placed us both in a great dilemma;
indeed, ours was a most critical position. We turned back upon 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; she had
now to carry Gibson's saddle and things, and we went away walking and
riding by turns of half an hour. The cob, no doubt, died where he fell;
not a second thought could be bestowed on him.

<p>When we got back to about thirty miles from the Kegs I was walking,
and having concluded in my mind what course to pursue, I called to
Gibson to halt till I walked up to him. We were both excessively
thirsty, for walking had made us so, and we had scarcely a pint of water
left between us. However, of what we had we each took a mouthful, which
finished the supply, and I then said&mdash;for I couldn't speak
before&mdash;&ldquo;Look here, Gibson, you see we are in a most terrible
fix with only one horse, therefore only one can ride, and one must
remain behind. I shall remain: and now listen to me. If the mare does
not get water soon she will die; therefore ride right on; get to the
Kegs, if possible, to-night, and give her water. Now the cob is dead
there'll be all the more for her; let her rest for an hour or two, and
then get over a few more miles by morning, so that early to-morrow you
will sight the Rawlinson, at twenty-five miles from the Kegs. Stick to
the tracks, and never leave them. Leave as much water in one keg for me
as you can afford after watering the mare and filling up your own bags,
and, remember, I depend upon you to bring me relief. Rouse Mr. Tietkens,
get fresh horses and more water-bags, and return as soon as you possibly
can. I shall of course endeavour to get down the tracks also.&rdquo;

<h5><a name="i28">ILLUSTRATION 28</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t28.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>THE LAST EVER SEEN OF GIBSON</h5>

<p>He then said if he had a compass he thought he could go better at
night. I knew he didn't understand anything about compasses, as I had
often tried to explain them to him. The one I had was a Gregory's
Patent, of a totally different construction from ordinary instruments of
the kind, and I was very loth to part with it, as it was the only one I
had. However, he was so anxious for it that I gave it him, and he
departed. I sent one final shout after him to stick to the tracks, to
which he replied, &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; and the mare carried him out
of sight almost immediately. That was the last ever seen of Gibson.

<p>I walked slowly on, and the further I walked the more thirsty I
became. I had thirty miles to go to reach the Kegs, which I could not
reach until late to-morrow at the rate I was travelling, and I did not
feel sure that I could keep on at that. The afternoon was very hot. I
continued following the tracks until the moon went down, and then had to
stop. The night was reasonably cool, but I was parched and choking for
water. How I longed again for morning! I hoped Gibson had reached the
Kegs, and that he and the mare were all right. I could not sleep for
thirst, although towards morning it became almost cold. How I wished
this planet would for once accelerate its movements and turn upon its
axis in twelve instead of twenty-four hours, or rather that it would
complete its revolution in six hours.

<p>APRIL 24TH TO 1ST MAY.

<h5><a name="i29">ILLUSTRATION 29</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t29.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>ALONE IN THE DESERT.</h5>

<p>So soon as it was light I was again upon the horse tracks, and
reached the Kegs about the middle of the day. Gibson had been here, and
watered the mare, and gone on. He had left me a little over two gallons
of water in one keg, and it may be imagined how glad I was to get a
drink. I could have drunk my whole supply in half an hour, but was
compelled to economy, for I could not tell how many days would elapse
before assistance could come: it could not be less than five, it might
be many more. After quenching my thirst a little I felt ravenously
hungry, and on searching among the bags, all the food I could find was
eleven sticks of dirty, sandy, smoked horse, averaging about an ounce
and a half each, at the bottom of a pack-bag. I was rather staggered to
find that I had little more than a pound weight of meat to last me until
assistance came. However, I was compelled to eat some at once, and
devoured two sticks raw, as I had no water to spare to boil them in.

<p>After this I sat in what shade the trees afforded, and reflected on
the precariousness of my position. I was sixty miles from water, and
eighty from food, my messenger could hardly return before six days, and
I began to think it highly probable that I should be dead of hunger and
thirst long before anybody could possibly arrive. I looked at the keg;
it was an awkward thing to carry empty. There was nothing else to carry
water in, as Gibson had taken all the smaller water-bags, and the large
ones would require several gallons of water to soak the canvas before
they began to tighten enough to hold water. The keg when empty, with its
rings and straps, weighed fifteen pounds, and now it had twenty pounds
of water in it. I could not carry it without a blanket for a pad for my
shoulder, so that with my revolver and cartridge-pouch, knife, and one
or two other small things on my belt, I staggered under a weight of
about fifty pounds when I put the keg on my back. I only had fourteen
matches.

<p>After I had thoroughly digested all points of my situation, I
concluded that if I did not help myself Providence wouldn't help me. I
started, bent double by the keg, and could only travel so slowly that I
thought it scarcely worth while to travel at all. I became so thirsty at
each step I took, that I longed to drink up every drop of water I had in
the keg, but it was the elixir of death I was burdened with, and to
drink it was to die, so I restrained myself. By next morning I had only
got about three miles away from the Kegs, and to do that I travelled
mostly in the moonlight. The next few days I can only pass over as they
seemed to pass with me, for I was quite unconscious half the time, and I
only got over about five miles a day.

<p>To people who cannot comprehend such a region it may seem absurd that
a man could not travel faster than that. All I can say is, there may be
men who could do so, but most men in the position I was in would simply
have died of hunger and thirst, for by the third or fourth day&mdash;I
couldn't tell which&mdash;my horse meat was all gone. I had to remain in
what scanty shade I could find during the day, and I could only travel
by night.

<p>When I lay down in the shade in the morning I lost all consciousness,
and when I recovered my senses I could not tell whether one day or two
or three had passed. At one place I am sure I must have remained over
forty-eight hours. At a certain place on the road&mdash;that is to say,
on the horse tracks&mdash;at about fifteen miles from the Kegs&mdash;at
twenty-five miles the Rawlinson could again be sighted&mdash;I saw that
the tracks of the two loose horses we had turned back from there had
left the main line of tracks, which ran east and west, and had turned
about east-south-east, and the tracks of the Fair Maid of Perth, I was
grieved to see, had gone on them also. I felt sure Gibson would soon
find his error, and return to the main line. I was unable to investigate
this any farther in my present position. I followed them about a mile,
and then returned to the proper line, anxiously looking at every step to
see if Gibson's horse tracks returned into them.

<p>They never did, nor did the loose horse tracks either. Generally
speaking, whenever I saw a shady desert oak-tree there was an enormous
bulldog ants' nest under it, and I was prevented from sitting in its
shade. On what I thought was the 27th I almost gave up the thought of
walking any farther, for the exertion in this dreadful region, where the
triodia was almost as high as myself, and as thick as it could grow, was
quite overpowering, and being starved, I felt quite light-headed. After
sitting down, on every occasion when I tried to get up again, my head
would swim round, and I would fall down oblivious for some time. Being
in a chronic state of burning thirst, my general plight was dreadful in
the extreme. A bare and level sandy waste would have been Paradise to
walk over compared to this. My arms, legs, thighs, both before and
behind, were so punctured with spines, it was agony only to exist; the
slightest movement and in went more spines, where they broke off in the
clothes and flesh, causing the whole of the body that was punctured to
gather into minute pustules, which were continually growing and
bursting. My clothes, especially inside my trousers, were a perfect mass
of prickly points.

<p>My great hope and consolation now was that I might soon meet the
relief party. But where was the relief party? Echo could only
answer&mdash;where? About the 29th I had emptied the keg, and was still
over twenty miles from the Circus. Ah! who can imagine what twenty miles
means in such a case? But in this April's ivory moonlight I plodded on,
desolate indeed, but all undaunted, on this lone, unhallowed shore. At
last I reached the Circus, just at the dawn of day. Oh, how I drank! how
I reeled! how hungry I was! how thankful I was that I had so far at
least escaped from the jaws of that howling wilderness, for I was once
more upon the range, though still twenty miles from home.

<p>There was no sign of the tracks, of any one having been here since I
left it. The water was all but gone. The solitary eagle still was there.
I wondered what could have become of Gibson; he certainly had never come
here, and how could he reach the fort without doing so?

<p>I was in such a miserable state of mind and body, that I refrained
from more vexatious speculations as to what had delayed him: I stayed
here, drinking and drinking, until about ten a.m., when I crawled away
over the stones down from the water. I was very footsore, and could only
go at a snail's pace. Just as I got clear of the bank of the creek, I
heard a faint squeak, and looking about I saw, and immediately caught, a
small dying wallaby, whose marsupial mother had evidently thrown it from
her pouch. It only weighed about two ounces, and was scarcely furnished
yet with fur. The instant I saw it, like an eagle I pounced upon it and
ate it, living, raw, dying&mdash;fur, skin, bones, skull, and all. The
delicious taste of that creature I shall never forget. I only wished I
had its mother and father to serve in the same way. I had become so weak
that by late at night, I had only accomplished eleven miles, and I lay
down about five miles from the Gorge of Tarns, again choking for water.
While lying down here, I thought I heard the sound of the foot-falls of
a galloping horse going campwards, and vague ideas of Gibson on the Fair
Maid&mdash;or she without him&mdash;entered my head. I stood up, and
listened, but the sound had died away upon the midnight air. On the 1st
of May, as I afterwards found, at one o'clock in the morning, I was
walking again, and reached the Gorge of Tarns long before daylight, and
could again indulge in as much water as I desired; but it was exhaustion
I suffered from, and I could hardly move.

<p>My reader may imagine with what intense feelings of relief I stepped
over the little bridge across the water, staggered into the camp at
daylight, and woke Mr. Tietkens, who stared at me as though I had been
one, new risen from the dead. I asked him had he seen Gibson, and to
give me some food. I was of course prepared to hear that Gibson had
never reached the camp; indeed I could see but two people in their
blankets the moment I entered the fort, and by that I knew he could not
be there. None of the horses had come back, and it appeared that I was
the only one of six living creatures&mdash;two men and four
horses&mdash;that had returned, or were now ever likely to return, from
that desert, for it was now, as I found, nine days since I last saw
Gibson.

<p>Mr. Tietkens told me he had been in a great state of anxiety during
my absence, and had only returned an hour or two before from the Circus.
This accounted for the sounds I heard. He said he had planted some
smoked horsesticks, and marked a tree. This was a few hours after I had
left it in the morning. He said he saw my foot-marks, but could not
conclude that I could be on foot alone, and he thought the tracks must
be older than they looked. Any how, we had missed meeting one another
somewhere on the range. We were both equally horrified at Gibson's
mischance. When we woke Jimmy up he was delighted to see me, but when
told about Gibson, he said something about he knowed he worn't no good
in the bush, but as long as I had returned, etc., etc. I told them both
just what had occurred out there; how Gibson and I had parted company,
and we could only conclude that he must be dead, or he would long before
have returned. The mare certainly would have carried him to the Circus,
and then he must have reached the depot; but it was evident that he had
gone wrong, had lost himself, and must now be dead. I was too much
exhausted and too prostrate to move from the camp to search for him
to-day, but determined to start to-morrow. Mr. Tietkens got everything
ready, while I remained in a state of semi-stupor. I was cramped with
pains in all my joints, pains in the stomach, and violent headaches, the
natural result of having a long-empty stomach suddenly filled. Gibson's
loss and my struggles formed the topic of conversation for most of the
day, and it naturally shed a gloom over our spirits. Here we were,
isolated from civilisation, out of humanity's reach, hundreds of miles
away from our fellow creatures, and one of our small party had gone from
us. It was impossible for him to be still in existence in that fearful
desert, as no man would or could stay there alive: he must be dead, or
he would have returned as I did, only much sooner, for the mare he had,
would carry him as far in a day as I could walk in a week in this
country.

<p>The days had not lately been excessively hot, Mr. Tietkens said 96 to
98&deg; had been the average, but to-day it was only 90&deg;. This
afternoon it was very cloudy, and threatened to rain. I was now,
however, in hopes that none would fall. That evil spirit of this
scene&mdash;Mount Destruction&mdash;frowned upon us, and now that Gibson
was dead, exploration was ended; we had but to try to find his remains,
and any little trifling shower that fell would make it all the more
difficult to trace him, while a thorough downpour would obliterate the
tracks of our lost companion, entirely from the surface of the sandy
waste into which he had so unfortunately strayed. Before daylight on the
2nd we were awoke by the sprinkling of a light shower of rain, which was
of not the slightest use; but it continued so long, making everything
wet and clammy, that I felt sure we should have some trouble in
following Gibson's tracks. The rain ceased about seven o'clock. Mr.
Tietkens and Jimmy got all the things we required, and the horses. I was
so weak I could do nothing. We took three pack-horses to carry water,
and two riding-horses, Blackie and Diaway, to ride, with Widge, Fromby,
and Hippy. Though Mr. Tietkens and Jimmy had not been attacked during my
absence, the natives were always prowling about, and I did not like the
idea of leaving Jimmy alone; but as he said he was willing to remain, we
left him. I had to be literally put on to my horse Blackie, and we rode
away. Not to worry my reader more than I can help, I may say we had to
return to the Kegs, to get the bags left there, and some indispensable
things; also Gibson's saddle, which he left nine or ten miles beyond the
Kegs in a tree. Going all that distance to get these things, and
returning to where Gibson's tracks branched off, we had to travel 115
miles, which made it the third night the horses had been out. We gave
them some of the water we carried each night, and our supply was now
nearly all gone. It was on the 6th May when we got back to where Gibson
had left the right line. We fortunately had fine, cool weather. As long
as Gibson remained upon the other horse-tracks, following them, though
not very easy, was practicable enough; but the unfortunate man had left
them, and gone away in a far more southerly direction, having the most
difficult sandhills now to cross at right angles. He had burnt a patch
of spinifex, where he left the other horse-tracks, and must have been
under the delusion that they were running north, and that the main line
of tracks must be on his right, instead of his left hand, and whether he
made any mistake or not in steering by the compass, it is impossible to
say, but instead of going east as he should, he actually went south, or
very near it. In consequence of small reptiles, such as lizards, always
scratching over all horse tracks in this region during the night, and
also the slight rain we had the other morning, combined with wind, the
shifting nature of the sandy soil, and the thick and bushy spinifex, we
could make but poor headway in following the single track, and it was
only by one of us walking while the other brought on the horses, that we
could keep the track at all. Although we did not halt during the whole
day, we had not been able to track him by night more than thirteen
miles. Up to this point there was evidently no diminution of the powers
of the animal he bestrode. We camped upon the tracks the fourth night
without water, it being impossible to follow in the moonlight. We gave
our horses all our remaining stock of water.

<p>We began to see that our chance of finding the remains of our lost
companion was very slight. I was sorry to think that the unfortunate
man's last sensible moments must have been embittered by the thought
that, as he had lost himself in the capacity of a messenger for my
relief, I too must necessarily fall a victim to his mishap.

<p>I called this terrible region that lies between the Rawlinson Range
and the next permanent water that may eventually be found to the west,
Gibson's Desert, after this first white victim to its horrors.

<p>Gibson, having had my horse, rode away in my saddle with my field
glasses attached; but everything was gone&mdash;man and horse alike
swallowed in this remorseless desert. The weather was cool at night,
even cold, for which I was most thankful, or we could not have remained
so long away from water. We consulted together, and could only agree
that unless we came across Gibson's remains by mid-day, we must of
necessity retreat, otherwise it would be at the loss of fresh lives,
human and equine, for as he was mounted on so excellent an animal as the
Fair Maid, on account of whose excellence I had chosen her to ride, it
seemed quite evident that this noble creature had carried him only too
well, and had been literally ridden to death, having carried her rider
too far from water ever to return, even if he had known where it lay.
What actual distance she had carried him, of course it was impossible to
say; going so persistently in the wrong direction, he was simply
hastening on to perish. I felt more at ease walking along the track than
riding. We could only go slowly, mile after mile, rising sand-ridge
after sand-ridge, until twelve o'clock, not having been able to trace
him more than seven or eight miles since morning. We could not reach the
Circus by night, for we were nearly fifty miles from it, and in all
probability we should get no water there when we returned. We had to
abandon any further attempt. The mare had carried him God knows where,
and we had to desist from our melancholy and unsuccessful search. Ah!
who can tell his place of rest, far in the mulga's shade? or where his
drooping courser, bending low, all feebly foaming fell? I may here
remark, that when we relinquished the search, Gibson's tracks were going
in the direction of, though not straight to, the dry ridges that Jimmy
and I visited in February. These were now in sight, and no doubt Gibson
imagined they were the Rawlinson Range, and he probably ended his life
amongst them. It was impossible for us to go there now; I had difficulty
enough to get away from them when I purposely visited them. We now made
a straight line for the western end of the Rawlinson, and continued
travelling until nearly morning, and did not stop till the edge of Lake
Christopher was reached. This was the fifth night from water, and the
horses were only just able to crawl, and we camped about ten miles from
the Circus, we hoped to get water for them there. During our night
march, before reaching the lake&mdash;that is, owing to the horses we
were driving running along them, away from our line&mdash;we crossed and
saw the tracks of the two loose horses, Badger and Darkie; they were
making too southerly ever to reach the Rawlinson. Where these two
unfortunate brutes wandered to and died can never be known, for it would
cost the lives of men simply to ascertain.

<p>On reaching the Circus next morning, the 8th, there was only mud and
slime, and we had to go so slowly on, until we reached the Gorge of
Tarns very late, reaching the depot still later. I was almost more
exhausted now than when I walked into it last. Jimmy was all right with
the little dog, and heartily glad at our return, as he thought it was
the end of our troubles. Jimmy was but young, and to be left alone in
such a lonely spot, with the constant dread of hostile attacks from the
natives, would not be pleasant for any one. Our stock of poor old
Terrible Billy was all but gone, and it was necessary to kill another
horse. Mr. Tietkens and Jimmy had partially erected another smoke-house,
and to-morrow we must work at it again. The affairs of the dead must
give place to those of the living. I could not endure the thought of
leaving Gibson's last resting-place unknown, although Bunyan says,
&ldquo;Wail not for the dead, for they have now become the companions of
the immortals.&rdquo; As I have said, my mind could not rest easy
without making another attempt to discover Gibson; but now that the
Circus water was gone, it would be useless to go from here without some
other water between, for where we left his tracks was seventy miles
away, and by the time we could get back to them it would be time to
return. In the early part of the day we got sticks and logs, and erected
a portion of the smoke-house, while Jimmy got the horses. I then
determined to go with Mr. Tietkens to where he and Gibson had found a
rock-hole, which they said was unapproachable. I was determined to see
whether it could be used, so we delayed killing another horse until our
return, and in consequence we had to draw upon our small stock of flour.
In the afternoon we took five more horses, intending to load them with
water at the hole if possible; but I found it utterly useless. I called
the most western hill of this range Mount Forrest, and the most western
watercourse Forrest's Creek.

<h5><a name="i30">ILLUSTRATION 30</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t30.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>JIMMY AT FORT MCKELLAR.</h5>

<p>When we arrived again at the fort, on Monday, I knew something had
happened, for Jimmy was most profuse in his delight at seeing us again.
It appeared that while we were preparing to start on Saturday, a whole
army of natives were hidden behind the rocks, immediately above the
camp, waiting and watching until we departed, and no sooner were we well
out of sight and sound, than they began an attack upon poor Jim.
According to him, it was only by the continued use of rifle bullets, of
which, fortunately, I had a good supply&mdash;and, goodness knows, the
ground in and around the fort was strewn with enough discharged
cartridges&mdash;that he could keep them at bay at all. If he had killed
ten per cent, for all the cartridges he fired away, I should think he
would have destroyed the whole tribe; but he appeared to have been too
flurried to have hit many of them. They threw several spears and great
quantities of stones down from the rocks; it was fortunate he had a
palisade to get inside of. Towards night he seems to have driven them
off, and he and the little dog watched all night. It must indeed have
been something terrible that would keep Jimmy awake all night. Before
daylight on Sunday the natives came to attack him again; he had probably
improved in his aim by his previous day's practice, for at length he was
able to drive them away screeching and yelling, the wounded being
carried in the arms of the others. One fellow, Jimmy said, came rushing
up to give him his quietus, and began dancing about the camp and pulling
over all the things, when Jimmy suddenly caught up a shot gun loaded
with heavy long-shot cartridges, of which I had about a dozen left for
defence, and before the fellow could get away, he received the full
charge in his body. Jimmy said he bounded up in the air, held up his
arms, shrieked, and screamed, but finally ran off with all the others,
and they had not troubled him since. I gave the lad great praise for his
action. He had had a most fortunate escape from most probably a cruel
death, if indeed these animals would not have actually eaten him.

<p>We finished the smoke-house this afternoon, and, having secured the
new victim we were going to slay, tied him up all night. This time it
was Tommy. I had brought him originally from Victoria, and he had been
out on my first expedition. He was now very old and very poor, two
coincidences that can only be thoroughly comprehended by the antiquated
of the human race; and for my part I would rather be killed and eaten by
savages, than experience such calamities at an advanced period of life.
Tommy did not promise much oil. I shot him early, and we got him into
the smoke-house with the exception of such portions as we kept fresh, by
the afternoon. We had to boil every bone in his body to get sufficient
oil to fry steaks with, and the only way to get one's teeth through the
latter was to pound them well before cooking. I wish I had a sausage
machine. The thermometer to-day only 78&deg;. Had Gibson not been lost I
should certainly have pushed out west again and again. To say I was
sorry to abandon such a work in such a region, though true, may seem
absurd, but it must be remembered I was pitted, or had pitted myself,
against Nature, and a second time I was conquered. The expedition had
failed in its attempt to reach the west, but still it had done
something. It would at all events leave a record. Our stores and clothes
were gone, we had nothing but horseflesh to eat, and it is scarcely to
be wondered at if neither Mr. Tietkens nor Jimmy could receive my
intimation of my intention to retreat otherwise than with pleasure,
though both were anxious, as I was, that our efforts should be
successful. In our present circumstances, however, nothing more could be
done. In vain the strong will and the endeavour, which for ever wrestled
with the tides of fate.

<p>We set to work to shoe some of the horses. When Tommy is smoked we
shall depart. He proved to have more flesh on his bones than I
anticipated, and he may last us for a month. The next few days got hot
and sultry, and rain again threatened. If we could only get a good fall,
out to the west we would go again without a further thought; for if
heavy rain fell we would surely find some receptacle at the Alfred and
Marie Range to help us on? But no, the rain would not come. Every drop
in this singular region seems meted and counted out, yet there are the
marks of heavy floods on all the watercourses. The question of when did
the floods occur, which caused these marks, and when, oh when, will such
phenomena occur again, is always recurring to me. The climate of this
region too seems most extraordinary; for both last night and the night
before we could all lie on our blankets without requiring a rag to cover
us, while a month ago it was so cold at night that we actually wanted
fires. I never knew the nights so warm in May in any other parts I have
visited, and I cannot determine whether this is a peculiarity of the
region, or whether the present is an unusual season throughout this half
of the continent. With the exception of a few showers which fell in
January, not a drop of rain to leave water has fallen since I left the
telegraph line.

<p>I cannot leave this singular spot without a few remarks on its
peculiarities and appearance, for its waters are undoubtedly permanent,
and may be useful to future travellers. In the first place Fort McKellar
bears 12&deg; east of south from the highest ridge of Mount Destruction,
in the Carnarvon Range; that mountain, however, is partially hidden by
the intervening low hills where Mr. Tietkens's riding-horse Bluey died.
In consequence I called it Bluey's Range. This depot is amongst a heavy
clump of fine eucalypts, which are only thick for about a quarter of a
mile. From beneath this clump a fine strong spring of the purest water
flows, and just opposite our fort is a little basin with a stony bottom,
which we had to bridge over to reach the western bank. The grazing
capabilities of the country are very poor, and the horses only existed
here since leaving the pass. On the 20th it was a month since Gibson and
I departed for the west. This morning three natives came up near the
camp, but as they or their tribe had so lately attacked it, I had no
very loving feelings for them, although we had a peaceable interview.
The only information I could glean from them was that their word for
travelling, or going, or coming, was &ldquo;Peterman&rdquo;. They
pointed to Mount Destruction, and intimated that they were aware that we
had &ldquo;Petermaned&rdquo; there, that we had &ldquo;Petermaned&rdquo;
both from the east and to the west. Everything with them was
&ldquo;Peterman&rdquo;. It is singular how identical the word is in
sound with the name of the late Dr. Petermann, the geographer. In
looking over Gibson's few effects, Mr. Tietkens and I found, in an old
pocketbook, a drinking song and a certificate of his marriage: he had
never told us anything about this.

<hr>

<h4><a name="ch2.11">CHAPTER 2.11. FROM 21ST MAY TO 20TH JULY, 1874.</a></h4>
<blockquote>
Depart for civilisation.
The springs at the pass.
Farewell to Sladen Water.
The Schwerin Mural Crescent.
The return route.
Recross the boundary line.
Natives and their smokes.
A canine telegram.
New features.
The Sugar-loaf.
Mount Olga once more.
Ayers' Rock.
Cold weather.
A flat-topped hill.
Abandon a horse.
A desert region.
A strange feature.
Lake Amadeus again.
A new smoke-house.
Another smoked horse.
The glue-pot.
An invention.
Friendly natives.
A fair and fertile tract.
The Finke.
A white man.
A sumptuous repast.
Sale of horses and gear.
The Charlotte.
The Peake.
In the mail.
Hear of Dick's death.
In Adelaide.
Concluding remarks.
</blockquote>
<p>On the afternoon of Thursday, 21st May, we began our retreat, and
finally left Fort McKellar, where my hopes had been as high as my defeat
was signal. On arriving at the pass we camped close to the beautiful
fresh-water springs, where both Mr. Tietkens and Gibson, had planted a
patch of splendid soil, Gibson having done the same at Fort McKellar
with all kinds of seeds; but the only thing that came up well here was
maize. That looked splendid, and had grown nearly three feet high. The
weather was now delightful, and although in full retreat, had there been
no gloom upon our feelings, had we had any good food to eat, with such
fine horses as Banks, and Diaway, W.A., Trew, Blackie, etc. to ride, and
a line of well-watered country before us for hundreds of miles, we might
have considered our return a pleasure trip; but gloom covered our
retreat, and we travelled along almost in silence. The pass was a place
I greatly liked, and it was free from ants. There was a long line of
fine eucalyptus timber and an extensive piece of ground covered with
rushes, which made it look very pretty; altogether it was a most
desirable spot for an explorer's camp, and an excellent place for the
horses, as they soon got fat here. It is impossible that I should ever
forget Sladen Water or the Pass of the Abencerrages: &ldquo;Methinks I
am as well in this valley as I have been anywhere else in all our
journey; the place methinks suits with my spirit. I love to be in such
places, where there is no rattling with coaches, nor rumbling with
wheels. Methinks here one may, without much molestation, be thinking
what he is, and whence he came; what he has done, and to what the king
has called him&rdquo; (Bunyan). On the Queen's birthday we bade it a
last farewell, and departed for the east and civilisation, once more. We
now had the route that Mr. Tietkens and I had explored in
March&mdash;that is to say, passing and getting water at all the
following places:&mdash;Gill's Pinnacle, the Ruined Rampart, Louisa's
Creek, and the Chirnside. The country, as I have said before, was
excellent and good for travelling over. The crescent-shaped and
wall-like range running from the Weld Pass to Gill's Pinnacle, and
beyond it, I named the Schwerin Mural Crescent; and a pass through it I
named Vladimar Pass, in honour of Prince Vladimar, son of the Emperor of
Russia, married to the Princess of Schwerin. When we reached the place
where we first surprised the natives hunting, in March, we made a more
northerly detour, as our former line had been through and over very
rough hills, and in so doing we found on the 1st of June another
splendid watering-place, where several creeks joined and ran down
through a rocky defile, or glen, to the north. There was plenty of both
rock and sand water here, and it was a very pretty and excellent little
place. I called it Winter's* Glen, and the main creek of the three in
which it lies, Irving Creek. This water may easily be found by a future
traveller, from its bearing from a high, long-pointed hill abruptly
ending to the west, which I named Mount Phillips. This is a very
conspicuous mount in this region, being, like many of the others named
on this line, detached to allow watercourses to pass northwards, and yet
forming a part of the long northern wall, of which the Petermann Range
is formed. This mount can be distinctly seen from Mount Olga, although
it is seventy miles away, and from whence it bears 4&deg; north of west.
The water gorge at Winter's Glen bears west from the highest point of
Mount Phillips, and four miles away. We were now again in the
territories of South Australia, having bid farewell to her sister state,
and turned our backs upon that peculiar province of the sun, the last of
austral lands he shines upon. We next paid a visit to Glen Robertson, of
15th March, as it was a convenient place from which to make a straight
line to the Sugar-loaf. To reach it we had to make a circuitous line,
under the foot of the farthest east hill, where, it will be remembered,
we had been attacked during dinner-time. We reached the glen early.
There was yet another detached hill in the northern line, which is the
most eastern of the Petermann Range. I named it Mount McCulloch. It can
also easily be distinguished from Mount Olga. From Glen Robertson Mount
McCulloch bore 3&deg; east of north. We rested here a day, during which
several natives made their appearance and lit signal fires for others.
There is a great difference between signal and hunting fires; we were
perfectly acquainted with both, as my reader may imagine. One aboriginal
fiend, of the Homo sapiens genus, while we were sitting down sewing bags
as usual, sneaked so close upon us, down the rocks behind the camp, that
he could easily have touched or tomahawked&mdash;if he had
one&mdash;either of us, before he was discovered. My little dog was
sometimes too lazy to obey, when a little distance off, the command to
sit, or stand up; in that case I used to send him a telegram, as I
called it&mdash;that is to say, throw a little stone at him, and up he
would sit immediately. This sneak of a native was having a fine game
with us. Cocky was lying down near Mr. Tietkens, when a stone came
quietly and roused him, causing him to sit up. Mr. Tietkens patted him,
and he lay down again. Immediately after another stone came, and up sat
Cocky. This aroused Mr. Tietkens's curiosity, as he didn't hear me speak
to the dog, and he said, &ldquo;Did you send Cocky a telegram?&rdquo; I
said, &ldquo;No.&rdquo; &ldquo;Well then,&rdquo; said he,
&ldquo;somebody did twice: did you, Jimmy?&rdquo; &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; I exclaimed, &ldquo;it's those blacks!&rdquo; We
jumped up and looked at the low rocks behind us, where we saw about
half-a-dozen sidling slowly away behind them. Jimmy ran on top, but they
had all mysteriously disappeared. We kept a sharp look out after this,
and fired a rifle off two or three times, when we heard some groans and
yells in front of us up the creek gorge.

<p>Having got some rock water at the Sugar-loaf or Stevenson's Peak in
coming out, we went there again. On the road, at nine miles, we crossed
another large wide creek running north. I called it the Armstrong*;
there was no water where we crossed it. At twenty miles I found another
fine little glen, with a large rock-hole, and water in the sand of the
creek-bed. I called this Wyselaski's* Glen, and the creek the Hopkins.
It was a very fine and pretty spot, and the grass excellent. On reaching
the Peak or Sugar-loaf, without troubling the old rocky shelf, so
difficult for horses to approach, and where there was very little water,
we found another spot, a kind of native well, half a mile west of the
gorge, and over a rise. We pushed on now for Mount Olga, and camped in
casuarina and triodia sandhills without water. The night of the 5th June
was very cold and windy; my only remaining thermometer is not graduated
below 36&deg;. The mercury was down in the bulb this morning. Two horses
straying delayed us, and it was quite late at night when Mount Olga was
reached. I was very much pleased to see the little purling brook
gurgling along its rocky bed, and all the little basins full. The water,
as when I last saw it, ended where the solid rock fell off. The country
all around was excessively dry, and the grass withered, except in the
channel of the creek, where there was some a trifle green. From here I
had a desire to penetrate straight east to the Finke, as a considerable
distance upon that line was yet quite unknown. One of our horses,
Formby, was unwell, and very troublesome to drive. We are nearly at the
end of our stock of Tommy, and Formby is a candidate for the smoke-house
that will evidently be elected, though we have yet enough Tommy for
another week. While here, I rode round northward to inspect that side of
this singular and utterly unclimbable mountain. Our camp was at the
south face, under a mound which lay up against the highest mound of the
whole. On the west side I found another running spring, with some much
larger rock-basins than at our camp. Of course the water ceased running
where the rock ended. Round on the north side I found a still stronger
spring, in a larger channel. I rode completely round the mass of this
wonderful feature; its extraordinary appearance will never be out of my
remembrance. It is no doubt of volcanic origin, belched out of the
bowels, and on to the surface, of the earth, by the sulphurous
upheavings of subterraneous and subaqueous fires, and cooled and
solidified into monstrous masses by the gelid currents of the deepmost
waves of the most ancient of former oceans. As I before remarked, it is
composed of mixed and rounded stones, formed into rounded shapes, but
some upon the eastern side are turreted, and some almost pillars, except
that their thickness is rather out of proportion to their height. The
highest point of the whole, as given before, is 1500 feet above the
ground, while it is 2800 feet above the sea-level. Could I be buried at
Mount Olga, I should certainly borrow Sir Christopher Wren's epitaph,
Circumspice si monumentum requiris. To the eastward from here, as
mentioned in my first expedition, and not very far off, lay another
strange and singular-looking mound, similar perhaps to this. Beyond
that, and still further to the east, and a very long way off, was
another mount or hill or range, but very indistinct from distance.

<p>On the 9th we went away to the near bare-looking mountain to the
east; it was twenty miles. We found a very fine deep pool of water lying
in sand under the abrupt and rocky face of the mount upon its southern
side. There was also a fine, deep, shady, and roomy cave here,
ornamented in the usual aboriginal fashion. There were two marks upon
the walls, three or four feet long, in parallel lines with spots between
them.

<p>Mr. Gosse had been here from the Gill's Range of my former
expedition, and must have crossed the extremity of Lake Amadeus. He
named this Ayers' Rock. Its appearance and outline is most imposing, for
it is simply a mammoth monolith that rises out of the sandy desert soil
around, and stands with a perpendicular and totally inaccessible face at
all points, except one slope near the north-west end, and that at least
is but a precarious climbing ground to a height of more than 1100 feet.
Down its furrowed and corrugated sides the trickling of water for untold
ages has descended in times of rain, and for long periods after, until
the drainage ceased, into sandy basins at its feet. The dimensions of
this vast slab are over two miles long, over one mile through, and
nearly a quarter of a mile high. The great difference between it and
Mount Olga is in the rock formation, for this is one solid granite
stone, and is part and parcel of the original rock, which, having been
formed after its state of fusion in the beginning, has there remained,
while the aged Mount Olga has been thrown up subsequently from below.
Mount Olga is the more wonderful and grotesque; Mount Ayers the more
ancient and sublime. There is permanent water here, but, unlike the
Mount Olga springs, it lies all in standing pools. There is excellent
grazing ground around this rock, though now the grass is very dry. It
might almost be said of this, as of the Pyramids or the Sphinx, round
the decay of that colossal rock, boundless and bare, the lone and level
sands stretch far away. This certainly was a fine place for a camp. The
water was icy cold; a plunge into its sunless deeps was a frigid tonic
that, further west in the summer heats, would have been almost
paradisiacal, while now it was almost a penalty. The hill or range
further east seems farther away now than it did from Mount Olga. It is
flat on the summit, and no doubt is the same high and flat-topped mount
I saw from the Sentinel in August last. We are encamped in the roomy
cave, for we find it much warmer than in the outer atmosphere, warmth
being as great a consideration now, as shade had formerly been.

<p>We started for the flat-topped hill on the 11th of June. The country
was all extremely heavy sandhills, with casuarina and triodia; we had to
encamp among them at twenty-three miles, without water. The next morning
Formby knocked up, and lay down, and we had to leave him in the scrub.
To-day we got over thirty miles, the hill being yet seven or eight miles
off. It looks most repulsive, so far as any likelihoods of obtaining
water is concerned. The region was a perfect desert, worse for
travelling, indeed, than Gibson's Desert itself. Leaving Jimmy with the
horses, Mr. Tietkens and I rode over to the mount, and reached it in
seven miles. At a mile and a half from it we came to an outer escarpment
of rocks; but between that and the mount more sandhills and thick scrub
exist. We rode all round this strange feature; it was many hundreds of
feet high, and for half its height its sides sloped; the crown rested
upon a perpendicular wall. It was almost circular, and perfectly flat
upon the top, apparently having the same kind of vegetation and timber
upon its summit as that upon the ground below. I don't know that it is
accessible; it seemed not; I saw no place, and did not attempt to ascend
it.

<p>To the north, and about fifteen miles away, the not yet ended Amadeus
Lake was visible. To the east timbered ridges bounded the view. There
were a few dry clay-pans here, but no water. We were sixty miles from
the rock, and to all appearance we might have to go sixty, or a hundred,
or more miles before we should reach water. The only water I knew on
this line of latitude was at the Finke itself, nearly 200 miles away.

<p>We must return to our Rock of Ages, for we must smoke another horse,
and we have no water to push any farther here. We returned to Jimmy and
the horses, and pushed back for the rock as fast as we could. When we
reached the spot where we had left Formby he had wandered away. We went
some distance on his tracks, but could not delay for a further search.
No doubt he had lain down and died not far off. I was sorry now I had
not smoked him before we started, though he was scarcely fit even for
explorers' food. We got back to the rock on the 15th, very late at
night, hungry and thirsty. The next day we worked at a new smoke-house,
and had to shift the camp to it, so as to be near, to keep a perpetual
cloud rising, till the meat is safe. The smoke-house is formed of four
main stakes stuck into the ground and coming nearly together at the top,
with cross sticks all the way down, and covered over with tarpaulins, so
that no smoke can escape except through the top. The meat is cut into
thin strips, and becomes perfectly permeated with smoke. So soon as all
was ready, down went poor Hollow Back. He was in what is called good
working condition, but he had not a vestige of fat about him. The only
adipose matter we could obtain from him was by boiling his bones, and
the small quantity of oil thus obtained would only fry a few meals of
steaks. When that was done we had to fry or parboil them in water. Our
favourite method of cooking the horseflesh after the fresh meat was
eaten, was by first boiling and then pounding with the axe, tomahawk
head, and shoeing hammer, then cutting it into small pieces, wetting the
mass, and binding it with a pannikin of flour, putting it into the coals
in the frying-pan, and covering the whole with hot ashes. But the flour
would not last, and those delicious horse-dampers, though now but things
of the past, were by no means relegated to the limbo of forgotten
things. The boiled-up bones, hoofs, shanks, skull, etc., of each horse,
though they failed to produce a sufficient quantity of oil to please us,
yet in the cool of the night resolved themselves into a consistent jelly
that stank like rotten glue, and at breakfast at least, when this
disgusting stuff was in a measure coagulated, we would request one
another with the greatest politeness to pass the glue-pot. Had it not
been that I was an inventor of transcendent genius, even this last
luxury would have been debarred us. We had been absent from
civilisation, so long, that our tin billies, the only boiling utensils
we had, got completely worn or burnt out at the bottoms, and as the
boilings for glue and oil must still go on, what were we to do with
billies with no bottoms? Although as an inventor I can allow no one to
depreciate my genius, I will admit there was but one thing that could be
done, and those muffs Tietkens and Jimmy actually advised me to do what
I had invented, which was simply&mdash;all great inventions are
simple&mdash;to cover the bottoms with canvas, and embed the billies
half-way up their sides in cold ashes, and boil from the top instead of
the bottom, which of course we did, and these were our glue- and
flesh-pots. The tongue, brains, kidneys, and other titbits of course
were eaten first.

<p>On the 19th some natives began to yell near the camp, but three only
made their appearance. They were not only the least offensive and most
civil we had met on any of our travels, but they were almost endearing
in their welcome to us. We gave them some of the bones and odd pieces of
horse-meat, which seemed to give them great satisfaction, and they ate
some pieces raw. They were in undress uniform, and &ldquo;free as Nature
first made man, ere the vile laws of servitude began, when, wild in the
woods, the noble savage ran.&rdquo; They were rather good, though
extremely wild-looking young men. One of them had splendid long black
curls waving in the wind, hanging down nearly to his middle; the other
two had chignons. They remained with us only about three hours. The day
was windy, sand-dusty, and disagreeable. One blast of wind blew my last
thermometer, which was hanging on a sapling, so violently to the ground
that it broke.

<p>Mr. Tietkens had been using a small pair of bright steel plyers. When
the endearing natives were gone it was discovered that the plyers had
departed also; it was only Christian charity to hope that they had
<i>not</i> gone together. It was evident that Mr. Gosse must have
crossed an eastern part of Lake Amadeus to get here from Gill's Range,
and as he had a wagon, I thought I would be so far beholden to him as to
make use of his crossing-place.

<p>We left the Rock on the 23rd, but only going four miles for a start,
we let the horses go back without hobbles to feed for the night. Where
the lake was crossed Mr. Gosse had laid down a broad streak of bushes
and boughs, and we crossed without much difficulty, the crossing-place
being very narrow. Leaving the dray track at the lower end of King's
Creek of my former journey, we struck across for Penny's Creek, four
miles east of it, where the splendid rocky reservoir is, and where there
was delicious herbage for the horses. We had now a fair and fertile
tract to the River Finke, discovered by me previously, getting water and
grass at Stokes's, Bagot's, Trickett's, and Petermann's Creeks; fish and
water at Middleton's and Rogers's Pass and Ponds. Thence down the Palmer
by Briscoe's Pass, and on to the junction of the Finke, where there is a
fine large water-hole at the junction.

<p>On the 10th of July travelling down the Finke near a place called
Crown Point on the telegraph line, we saw a white man riding towards us.
He proved to be a Mr. Alfred Frost, the owner of several fine
horse-teams and a contractor to supply loading for the Government to
several telegraph stations farther up the line. I had known him before;
he was most kind. He was going ahead to select a camp for his large
party, but upon our telling him of our having nothing but horse-flesh,
he immediately returned with us, and we met the advancing teams. He
called a halt, ordered the horses to be unyoked, and we were soon
laughing and shaking hands with new-found friends. Food was the first
order Mr. Frost gave, and while some were unyoking the horses, some were
boiling the tea-billies, while old Frost was extracting a quart of rum
for us from a hogshead. But we did not indulge in more than a sip or
two, as bread and meat was what we cared for most. In ten minutes the
tea was ready; some splendid fat corned beef, and mustard, and
well-cooked damper were put before us, and oh, didn't we eat! Then pots
of jams and tins of butter were put on our plates whole, and were
scooped up with spoons, till human organisms could do no more. We were
actually full&mdash;full to repletion. Then we had some grog. Next we
had a sleep, and then at sundown another exquisite meal. It made our new
friends shudder to look at our remaining stock of Hollow Back, when we
emptied it out on a tarpaulin and told them that was what we had been
living on. However, I made them a present of it for their dogs. Most of
the teamsters knew Gibson, and expressed their sorrow at his mishap;
some of them also knew he was married.

<p>The natives up the line had been very aggressive at the telegraph
stations, while we were absent, and all our firearms, etc., were eagerly
purchased, also several horses and gear. Mr. Frost fell in love with
Banks at a glance, and, though I tried not to part with the horse, he
was so anxious to buy him that I could not well refuse, although I had
intended to keep him and West Australian. Trew, one of the best horses,
had been staked early in the journey and his foot was blemished,
otherwise he was a splendid horse. All the best horses were
wanted&mdash;Diaway, Blackie, etc., but I kept W.A., Widge, and one or
two more of the best, as we still had several hundreds of miles to go.

<p>When we parted from our friends we only had a few horses left. We
reached the Charlotte Waters about twelve o'clock on July 13th, having
been nearly a year absent from civilisation. Our welcome here by my
friend and namesake, Mr. Christopher Giles, was of the warmest, and he
clothed and fed us like a young father. He had also recovered and kept
my old horse Cocky. The whole of the establishment there, testified
their pleasure at our return. On our arrival at the Peake our reception
by Mr. and Mrs. Blood at the telegraph station was most gratifying. Mr.
John Bagot also supplied us with many necessaries at his cattle-station.
The mail contractor had a light buggy here, and I obtained a seat and
was driven by him as far as the Blinman Copper Mine, via Beltana, where
I heard that my black boy Dick had died of influenza at a camp of the
semi-civilised natives near a hill called by Eyre, Mount Northwest. From
the Blinman I took the regular mail coach and train nearly 300 miles to
Adelaide. Mr. Tietkens and Jimmy came behind and sold the remaining
horses at the Blinman, where they also took the coach and joined me in
Adelaide a week later.

<p>I have now but a few concluding remarks to make; for my second
expedition is at an end, and those of my readers who have followed my
wanderings are perhaps as glad to arrive at the end as I was. I may
truly say that for nearly twelve months I had been the well-wrought
slave not only of the sextant, the compass, and the pen, but of the
shovel, the axe, and the needle also. There had been a continual strain
on brain and muscle. The leader of such an expedition as this could not
stand by and simply give orders for certain work to be performed; he
must join in it, and with the good example of heart and hand assist and
cheer those with whom he was associated. To my friend and second, Mr.
Tietkens, I was under great obligations, for I found him, as my readers
will have seen, always ready and ever willing for the most arduous and
disagreeable of our many undertakings. My expedition had been
unsuccessful in its main object, and my most sanguine hopes had been
destroyed. I knew at starting a great deal was expected from me, and if
I had not fulfilled the hopes of my friends, I could only console them
by the fact that I could not even fulfil my own. But if it is conceded
that I had done my devoir as an Australian explorer, then I am
satisfied. Nothing succeeds like success, but it is not in the power of
man&mdash;however he may deserve&mdash;to command it. Many trials and
many bitter hours must the explorer of such a region experience. The
life of a man is to be held at no more than a moment's purchase. The
slightest accident or want of judgment may instantly become the cause of
death while engaged in such an enterprise, and it may be truly said we
passed through a baptism worse indeed than that of fire&mdash;the
baptism of no water. That I should ever again take the field is more
than I would undertake to say:&mdash;

<p class="poem">&ldquo;Yet the charmed spell
<br>Which summons man to high discovery,
<br>Is ever vocal in the outward world; 
<br>But those alone may hear it who have hearts,
<br>Responsive to its tone.&rdquo;

<p>I may add that I had discovered a line of waters to Sladen Water and
Fort McKellar, and that at a distance of 150 miles from there lies the
Alfred and Marie Range. At what price that range was sighted I need not
now repeat. It is highly probable that water exists there also.

<p>It was, however, evident to me that it is only with camels there is
much likelihood of a successful and permanently valuable issue in case
of any future attempt. There was only one gentleman in the whole of
Australia who could supply the means of its accomplishment; and to him
the country at large must in future be, as it is at present, indebted
for ultimate discoveries. Of course that gentleman was the Honourable
Sir Thomas Elder. To my kind friend Baron Mueller I am greatly indebted,
and I trust, though unsuccessful, I bring no discredit upon him for his
exertions on my behalf.

<p>The map and journal of my expedition, as per agreement, was handed
over to the South Australian Government, and printed as Parliamentary
Papers; some few anecdotes of things that occurred have since been
added. It was not to be supposed that in a civilised community, and
amongst educated people, that such a record should pass unnoticed. I
received many compliments from men of standing. The truest, perhaps, was
from a gentleman who patted me on the back and said, &ldquo;Ah, Ernest,
my boy, you should never have come back; you should have sent your
journal home by Tietkens and died out there yourself.&rdquo; His
Excellency Sir George Bowen, the Governor of Victoria, was very kind,
and not only expressed approval of my exertions, but wrote favourable
despatches on my behalf to the Colonial Office. (This was also the case
subsequently with Sir William Robinson, K.C.M.G., the Governor of
Western Australia, after my arrival at Perth.) Sir Graham Berry, the
present Agent-General for the Colony of Victoria, when Premier, showed
his good opinion by doing me the good turn of a temporary appointment,
for which I shall ever feel grateful.

<p>What was generally thought of my work was the cause of subsequent
explorations, as Sir Thomas Elder, the only camel-owner in Australia, to
whom, through Baron von Mueller, I was now introduced, desired me to
take the field again; and it was soon arranged that he would equip me
with camels, and send me in command of a thoroughly efficient exploring
expedition. Upon this occasion I was to traverse, as near as possible,
the country lying under the 29th parallel of latitude, and I was to
force my way through the southern interior to the City of Perth in
Western Australia, by a new and unknown route. But, previous to
beginning the new expedition, Sir Thomas desired me to execute a
commission for a gentleman in England, of a squatting nature, in the
neighbourhood of Fowler's Bay, of Flinders, on the western coast of
South Australia, and near the head of the Great Australian Bight. This
work was done entirely with horses, though I had two camels, or rather
dromedaries&mdash;a bull and a cow, which had a young calf. There was no
pack-saddle for the bull, and the cow being very poor, I had not yet
made use of them. After I had completed my surveys near Fowler's Bay,
and visited the remote locality of Eucla Harbour, discovered by Flinders
and mentioned by Eyre in his travels in 1841, at the boundary of the two
colonies of South, and Western Australia, I had to proceed to Sir Thomas
Elder's cattle and sheep station, and camel depot, at Beltana, to fit
out for the new expedition for Perth. Beltana station lies about 300
miles nearly north from the city of Adelaide, while Fowler's Bay lies
450 miles about west-north-west from that city; and though Beltana is
only 370 or 380 miles in a straight line across the country from
Fowler's Bay, yet the intervening country being mostly unknown, and the
great salt depression of Lake Torrens lying in the way, I had to travel
700 miles to reach it. As this was my first attempt with camels, I shall
now give an account of my journey there with them and three horses. This
undertaking was my third expedition, and will be detailed in the
following book.

<hr>

<h5><a name="m4">Map 4</a></h5>
<h5>Third Expedition, 1875.</h5>

<h3><a name="book3">BOOK 3.</a></h3>

<h4>CHAPTER 3.1. FROM 13TH MARCH TO 1ST APRIL, 1875.</h4>
<blockquote>
Leave Fowlers Bay.
Camels and horses.
A great plain.
A black romance.
An oasis.
Youldeh.
Old Jimmy.
Cockata blacks.
In concealment.
Flies, ants, and heat.
A line of waters to the east.
Leave depot.
The camels.
Slow progress.
Lose a horse loaded with water.
Tinkle of a bell.
Chimpering.
Heavy sand-dunes.
Astray in the wilds.
Pylebung.
A native dam.
Inhuman mutilations.
Mowling and Whitegin.
The scrubs.
Wynbring.
A conspicuous mountain.
A native family.
March flies.
</blockquote>
<p>While at Fowler's Bay I had heard of a native watering-place called
Youldeh, that was known to one or two white people, and I found that it
lay about 130 miles inland, in a north-north-westerly direction; my
object now being to push across to Beltana to the eastwards and
endeavour to find a good travelling route by which I could bring my
projected large camel expedition back to the water at Youldeh, as a
starting depot for the west.

<p>Leaving the bay on Saturday, the 13th of March, 1875, I had a strong
party with me as far as Youldeh. My second in command, Mr. Roberts, Mr.
Thomas Richards, police trooper&mdash;who, having previously visited
Youldeh, was going to show me its whereabouts&mdash;and Mr. George
Murray; I had with me also another white man, Peter Nicholls, who was my
cook, one old black fellow and two young ones. The old man and one young
fellow went on, one day in advance and led the two camels, the calf
running loose. We all rode horses, and had several pack-horses to carry
our provisions and camp necessaries. The weather was exceedingly hot,
although the previous summer months had been reasonably cool, the heat
having been tempered by southerly sea breezes. Nature now seemed to
intend to concentrate all the usual heat of an Australian summer into
the two remaining months that were left to her. The thermometer usually
stood for several hours of each day at 104, 105, and 106&deg; in the
shade.

<p>After leaving Colona, an out sheep station belonging to Fowler's Bay,
lying some thirty-five miles north-west from it, and where Mr. Murray
resided, we traversed a country alternating between belts of scrub and
grassy flats or small plains, until at twenty miles from Colona we
reached the edge of a plain that stretched away to the north, and was
evidently of a very great extent. The soil was loose and yielding, and
of a very poor quality. Although this plain was covered with vegetation,
there was no grass whatever upon it; but a growth of a kind of broom,
two to three feet high, waving in the heated breezes as far as the eye
could reach, which gave it a billowy and extraordinary appearance. The
botanical name of this plant is Eremophila scoparia.

<p>At fifty miles from Colona and eighty-five from the bay, we reached a
salt lagoon, which, though several miles long, and perhaps a mile wide,
Mr. Murray's black boy informed us was the footmark or track of a
monstrous animal or snake, that used to haunt the neighbourhood of this
big plain, and that it had been driven by the Cockata blacks out of the
mountains to the north, the Musgrave Ranges of my last expedition, and
which are over 400 miles from the bay. He added that the creature had
crawled down to the coast, and now lived in the sea. So here was
reliable authority for the existence of a sea serpent. We had often
heard tales from the blacks, when sitting round our camp fires at night,
about this wonderful animal, and whenever any native spoke about it, it
was always in a mysterious undertone. What the name of this monster was,
I cannot now remember; but there were syllables enough in it to make a
word as long as the lagoon itself. The tales that were told of it, the
number of natives it had devoured, how such and such a black fellow's
father had encountered and speared it, and how it had occasionally
created floods all over the country when it was angry, would have made
an excellent novel, which might be produced under the title of a
&ldquo;Black Romance.&rdquo; When we laughed at, or joked this young
black fellow who now accompanied us, on the absurdity of his notions, he
became very serious, for to him and his co-religionists it was no
laughing matter. Another thing was rather strange, and that was, how
these coast natives should know there were any mountains to the north of
them. I knew it, because I had been there and found them; but that they
should know it was curious, for they have no intercourse with the tribes
of natives in the country to the north of them; indeed it required a
good deal of persuasion to induce the young blacks who accompanied us to
go out to Youldeh; and if it had not been that an old man called Jimmy
had been induced by Mr. Richards to go with the camels in advance, I am
quite sure the young ones would not have gone at all.

<p>After crossing the salt lagoon or animals' track, and going five
miles farther, about north-north-east, we arrived at some granite rocks
amongst some low hills, which rose up out of the plain, where some rock
water-holes existed, and here we found the two blacks that had preceded
us, encamped with the camels. This pretty little place was called
Pidinga; the eye was charmed with flowering shrubs about the rocks, and
green grass. As the day was very hot, we erected tarpaulins with sticks,
this being the only shade to sit under. There were a few hundred acres
of good country round the rocks; the supply of water was limited to
perhaps a couple of thousand gallons. From Pidinga our route to Youldeh
lay about north-north-west, distant thirty-three miles. For about
twenty-five miles we traversed an entirely open plain, similar to that
just described, and mostly covered with the waving broom bushes; but now
upon our right hand, to the north, and stretching also to the west, was
a dark line of higher ground formed of sandhills and fringed with low
scrub, and timber of various kinds, such as cypress pines (callitris),
black oak (casuarinas) stunted mallee (eucalyptus), and a kind of acacia
called myal. This new feature, of higher ground, formed the edge of the
plain, and is the southern bank of a vast bed of sandhill country that
lies between us and the Musgrave Ranges nearly 300 miles to the north.

<p>Having reached the northern edge of the plain we had been traversing,
we now entered the bed of sandhills and scrub which lay before us, and,
following the tracks of the two black fellows with the camels, as there
was no road to Youldeh, we came in five miles to a spot where, without
the slightest indication to point out such a thing, except that we
descended into lower ground, there existed a shallow native well in the
sandy ground of a small hollow between the red sandhills, and this spot
the blacks said was Youldeh. The whole region was glowing with intense
heat, and the sand was so hot, that neither the camels nor the horses
could endure to remain standing in the sun, but so soon as they were
unpacked and unsaddled, sought the shade of the large and numerous
leguminous bushes which grew all round the place. As there were five
whites and four blacks, we had plenty of hands to set about the
different tasks which had to be performed. In the first place we had to
dig out the old well; this some volunteered to do, while others erected
an awning with tarpaulins, got firewood, and otherwise turned the wild
and bushy spot into a locality suitable for a white man's encampment.
Water was easily procurable at a depth of between three and four feet,
and all the animals drank as much as they desired, being watered with
canvas buckets; the camels appeared as though they never would be
satisfied.

<p>It was only their parching thirst that induced the horses to remain
anywhere near the camels, and immediately they got sufficient water,
they de-camped, though short-hobbled, at a gallop over the high red
sandhills from whence we had come; my riding-horse, Chester, the worst
of the mob, went nearly mad at the approach of the camels. There was not
a sign of a blade of grass, or anything else that horses could eat,
except a few yellow immortelles of a large coarse description, and these
they did not care very much for. The camels, on the contrary, could take
large and evidently agreeable mouthfuls of the leaves of the great
bushes of the Leguminosae, which abounded. The conduct of the two kinds
of animals was so distinctly different as to arouse the curiosity of all
of us; the camels fed in peaceful content in the shade of the bushes
from which they ate, and never went out of sight, seeming to take great
interest in all we did, and evidently thoroughly enjoying themselves,
while the horses were plunging about in hobbles over the sandhills,
snorting and fretting with fright and exertion, and neither having or
apparently desiring to get anything to eat. Their sole desire was to get
away as far as possible from the camels. The supply of water here seemed
to be unlimited, but the sandy sides of the well kept falling in;
therefore we got some stakes of mallee, and saplings of the native
poplar (Codonocarpus cotinifolius, of the order of Phytolaccaceae), and
thoroughly slabbed it, at least sufficiently for our time. This place,
as I said before, was exceedingly hot, lying at the bottom of a hollow
amongst the sandhills, and all we could see from the tops of any of
those near us was a mass of higher, darker, and more forbidding
undulations of a similar kind. These undulations existed to the east,
north, and west, while to the south we could but dimly see the mirage
upon the plain we had recently traversed. The water here was fresh and
sweet, and if the temperature had not been quite so hot, we might have
enjoyed our encampment here; but there was no air, and we seemed to be
at the bottom of a funnel. The old black fellow, Jimmy, whom Mr.
Richards had obtained as a guide to show me some waters in the country
to the eastwards, informed us, through the interpretation of Mr. Murray,
that he knew of only one water in any direction towards the west, and
this he said was a small rock water-hole called Paring.

<p>The following day Mr. Murray and I rode there with old Jimmy, and
found it to be a wretched little hole, lying nearly west-north-west
about fourteen miles away; it contained only a few gallons of water,
which was almost putrid from the number of dead and decaying birds,
rats, lizards, rotten leaves, and sticks that were in it; had it been
full it would have been of no earthly use to me. Old Jimmy was not
accustomed to riding, and got out of his latitude once or twice before
we reached the place. He was, however, proud of finding himself in the
novel position, albeit rather late in life, of riding upon horseback,
and if I remember rightly did not tumble off more than three or four
times during the whole day. Jimmy was a very agreeable old gentleman; I
could not keep up a conversation with him, as I knew so few words of his
language, and he knew only about twenty of mine. It was evident he was a
man of superior abilities to most of his race, and he looked like a
thoroughbred, and had always been known to Mr. Richards as a proud and
honourable old fellow. He was, moreover, the father of a large family,
namely five, which is probably an unprecedented number amongst the
aboriginal tribes of this part of Australia, all of whom he had left
behind, as well as his wife, to oblige me; and many a time he regretted
this before he saw them again, and after; not from any unkindness on my
part, for my readers will see we were the best of friends the whole time
we were together. On this little excursion it was very amusing to watch
old Jimmy on horseback, and to notice the look of blank amazement on his
face when he found himself at fault amongst the sandhills; the way he
excused himself for not going straight to this little spot was also very
ingenuous. In the first place he said, &ldquo;Not mine young fellow now;
not mine like em pony&rdquo;&mdash;the name for all horses at Fowler's
Bay&mdash;&ldquo;not mine see 'em Paring long time, only when I am
boy.&rdquo; Whereby he intended to imply that some allowance must be
made for his not going perfectly straight to the place. However, we got
there all right, although I found it to be useless. When asked
concerning the country to the north, he declared it was Cockata; the
country to the west was also Cockata, the dreaded name of Cockata
appearing to carry a nameless undefined horror with it. The term of
Cockata blacks is applied by the Fowler's Bay natives to all other
tribes of aboriginals in the country inland from the coast, and it
seems, although when Fowler's Bay country was first settled by the
whites these natives attacked and killed several of the invaders, they
always lived in terror of their enemies to the north, and any atrocity
that was committed by themselves, either cannibalism, theft, or murder,
was always put down to the account of the Cockatas. Occasionally a mob
of these wilder aboriginals would make a descent upon the quieter
coast-blacks, and after a fight would carry off women and other spoils,
such as opossum rugs, spears, shields, coolamins&mdash;vessels of wood
or bark, like small canoes, for carrying water&mdash;and they usually
killed several of the men of the conquered race. After remaining at this
Paring for about an hour, we remounted our horses and returned to the
camp at Youldeh. The party remained there for a few days, hoping for a
change in the weather, as the heat was now very great and the country in
the neighbourhood of the most forbidding and formidable nature to
penetrate. It consisted of very high and scrubby red sandhills, and it
was altogether so unpleasing a locality that I abandoned the idea of
pushing to the north, to discover whether any other waters could be
found in that direction, for the present, and postponed the attempt
until I should return to this depot en route for Perth, with the whole
of my new expedition&mdash;deciding to make my way now to the eastwards
in order to reach Beltana by a route previously untravelled.

<p>Upon the morning after my return from Paring, all the horses were
away&mdash;indeed, as I have said before, there was nothing for them to
eat at this place, and they always rambled as far as they could possibly
go from the camp to get away from the camels, although those more
sensible animals were, so to say, in clover. We had three young black
fellows and old Jimmy, and it was the young ones' duty to look after and
get the horses, while old Jimmy had the easier employment of taking care
of the camels. This morning, two of the young blacks were sent out very
early for the horses, whilst the other and old Jimmy remained to do
anything that might be required at the camp. The morning was hot and
oppressive, we sat as comfortably as we could in the shade of our
awning; by twelve o'clock no signs of black boys or horses had made
their appearance. At one o'clock we had dinner, and gave old Jimmy and
his mate theirs. I noticed that the younger black left the camp with a
bit of a bundle under his shirt and a canvas water-bag; I and some of
the others watched whither he went, and to our surprise we found that he
was taking food and water to the other two boys, who should have been
away after the horses, but were quietly encamped under a big bush within
a quarter of a mile of us and had never been after the horses at all. Of
course we were very indignant, and were going to punish them with a good
thrashing, when one of them informed us that it was no use our hammering
them, for they could not go for the horses because they were too much
afraid of the Cockata blacks, and unless we sent old Jimmy or a white
man they would not go out of sight of the camp. This showed the state of
superstition and fear in which these people live. Indeed, I believe if
the whole Fowler's Bay tribes were all encamped together in one mob
round their own fires, in their own country, and any one ran into the
camp and shouted &ldquo;Cockata,&rdquo; it would cause a stampede among
them immediately. It was very annoying to think that the horses had got
so many hours' start away from the camp, and the only thing I could do
was to send a white man, and Jimmy, with these boys to find the absent
animals. Mr. Roberts volunteered, and had to camp away from water, not
returning until late the following day, with only about a third of the
mob. The next day all were found but three&mdash;one was a police horse
of Mr. Richards's, which was never seen after, and two colts of mine
which found their way back to, and were eventually recovered at,
Fowler's Bay by Mr. Roberts. While encamped here we found Youldeh to be
a fearful place, the ants, flies, and heat being each intolerable. We
were at the bottom of a sandy funnel, into which the fiery beams of the
sun were poured in burning rays, and the radiation of heat from the
sandy country around made it all the hotter. Not a breath of air could
be had as we lay or sat panting in the shade we had erected with our
tarpaulins. There was no view for more than a hundred yards anywhere,
unless one climbed to the top of a sandhill, and then other sandhills
all round only were to be seen. The position of this place I found to be
in latitude 30&deg; 24&acute; 10&acute;&acute; and approximate longitude
131&deg; 46&acute;. On the 23rd of March Mr. Murray, Jimmy, and I, went
to the top of a sandhill overlooking the camp and had a long
confabulation with Jimmy&mdash;at least Mr. Murray had, and he
interpreted the old fellow's remarks to me. It appeared that he knew the
country, and some watering-places in it, for some distance to the
eastward, and on making a kind of map on the sand, he put down several
marks, which he called by the following names, namely, Chimpering,
Pylebung, Mowling, Whitegin, and Wynbring; of these he said Pylebung and
Wynbring were the best waters. By his account they all lay due east from
hence, and they appeared to be the most wonderful places in the world.
He said he had not visited any of these places since he was a little boy
with his mother, and it appeared his mother was a widow and that these
places belonged to her country, but that she had subsequently become the
wife of a Fowler's Bay native, who had taken her and her little Jimmy
away out of that part of the country, therefore he had not been there
since. He said that Pylebung was a water that stood up high, and that
Cockata black fellows had made it with wooden shovels. This account
certainly excited my curiosity, as I had never seen anything which could
approximate to Jimmy's description; he also said it was mucka
pickaninny, only big one, which meant that it was by no means a small
water. Chimpering and Whitegin, he said, were rock-holes, but Wynbring,
the farthest water he knew, according to his account was something
astounding. He said it was a mountain, a waterhole, a lake, a spring,
and a well, all in one, and that it was distant about six sleeps from
Youldeh; this, according to our rendering, as Jimmy declared also that
it was mucka close up, only long way, we considered to be about 120
miles. Beyond Wynbring Jimmy knew nothing whatever of the country, and I
think he had a latent idea in his mind that there really was nothing
beyond it. The result of our interview was, that I determined to send
all the party back to Fowler's Bay, except one white man and old Jimmy,
also all the horses except three, and to start with this small party and
the camels to the eastward on the following day. I selected Peter
Nicholls to accompany me. I found the boiling-point of water at the camp
was 211&deg; making its altitude above the sea 509 feet. The sandhills
were about 100 feet high on the average.

<p>The two camels and the calf, were sent to me by Sir Thomas Elder,
from Adelaide, while I was at Fowler's Bay, by an Afghan named Saleh
Mahomet, who returned to, and met me at, Beltana, by the ordinary way of
travellers. There was only a riding-saddle for the cow, the bull having
come bare-backed; I therefore had to invent a pack- or baggage-saddle
for him, and I venture to assert that 999,999 people out of every
million would rather be excused the task. In this work I was ably
seconded by Mr. Richards, who did most of the sewing and pad-making, but
Mr. Armstrong, one of the owners and manager of the Fowler's Bay
Station, though he supplied me in profusion with every other requisite,
would not let me have the size of iron I wished, and I had to take what
I could get, he thinking it the right size; and unfortunately that which
I got for the saddle-trees was not stout enough, and, although in other
respects the saddle was a brilliant success, though made upon a totally
different principle from that of an Afghan's saddle, when the animal was
loaded, the weakness of the iron made it continually widen, and in
consequence the iron pressed down on the much-enduring creature's body
and hurt him severely.

<p>We frequently had to stop, take his load and saddle off and bend the
iron closer together again, so as to preserve some semblance of an arch
or rather two arches over his back, one before and one behind his hump.
Every time Nicholls and I went through this operation we were afraid the
iron would give, and snap in half with our pressure, and so it would
have done but that the fiery rays of the sun kept it almost at a glowing
heat. This and the nose ropes and buttons getting so often broken,
together with making new buttons from pieces of stick, caused us many
harassing delays.

<p>On the 24th of March, 1875, we bade good-bye to the friends that had
accompanied us to this place, and who all started to return to the bay
the same day. With Peter Nicholls, old Jimmy as guide, the two camels
and calf, and three horses, I turned my back upon the Youldeh camp,
somewhat late in the day. Nicholls rode the old cow, Jimmy and I riding
a horse each, the third horse carrying a load of water. Two of these
horses were the pick of the whole mob I had; they were still terribly
frightened at the camels, and it was almost impossible to sit my horse
Chester when the camels came near him behind; the horse carrying the
water followed the two riding-horses, but towards dusk he got frightened
and bolted away into the scrubs, load of water and all. We had only come
seven miles that afternoon, and it was our first practical acquaintance
with camels; Jimmy and I had continually to wait till Nicholls and the
camels, made their appearance, and whenever Nicholls came up he was in a
fearful rage with them. The old cow that he was riding would scarcely
budge for him at all. If he beat her she would lie down, yell, squall,
spit, and roll over on her saddle, and behave in such a manner that,
neither of us knowing anything about camels, we thought she was going to
die. The sandhills were oppressively steep, and the old wretch perspired
to such a degree, and altogether became such an unmanageable nuisance,
that I began to think camels could not be half the wonderful animals I
had fondly imagined.

<p>The bull, Mustara, behaved much better. He was a most affectionate
creature, and would kiss people all day long; but the Lord help any one
who would try to kiss the old cow, for she would cover them all over
with&mdash;well, we will call it spittle, but it is worse than that. The
calf would kiss also when caught, but did not care to be caught too
often. Mustara had a good heavy load&mdash;he followed the cow without
being fastened; the calf, with great cunning, not relishing the idea of
leaving Youldeh, would persistently stay behind and try and induce his
mother not to go on; in this he partially succeeded, for by dusk, just
as I found I had lost the pack-horse with the water, and was waiting
till Nicholls, who was following our horse tracks, came up to us, we had
travelled at no better speed than a mile an hour since we left the camp.
The two remaining horses were so restless that I was compelled to stand
and hold them while waiting, old Jimmy being away in the darkness to
endeavour to find the missing one. By the time Nicholls arrived with the
camels, guided now by the glare of a large fire of a Mus conditor's nest
which old Jimmy ignited, the horse had been gone about two hours; thus
our first night's bivouac was not a pleasant one. There was nothing that
the horses would eat, and if they had been let go, even in hobbles, in
all probability we should never have seen them again. Old Jimmy returned
after a fruitless search for the absent horse. The camels would not
feed, but lay down in a sulky fit, the two horses continually snorting
and endeavouring to break away; and thus the night was passing away,
when we heard the tinkle of a bell&mdash;the horse we had lost having a
bell on his neck&mdash;and Jimmy and Nicholls went away through the
darkness and scrubs in the direction it proceeded from. I kept up a
large fire to guide them, not that old Jimmy required such artificial
aid, but to save time; in about an hour they returned with the missing
horse. When this animal took it into his head to bolt off he was out of
earshot in no time, but it seems he must have thought better of his
proceedings, and returned of his own accord to where he had left his
mates. We were glad enough to secure him again, and the water he
carried.

<p>The next morning we were under weigh very early, and, following the
old guide Jimmy, we went in a south-east direction towards the first
watering place that he knew, and which he said was called Chimpering.
Many times before we reached this place the old fellow seemed very
uncertain of his whereabouts, but by dodging about amongst the
sandhills&mdash;the country being all rolling hummocks of red sand
covered with dense scrubs and the universal spinifex&mdash;he managed to
drop down upon it, after we had travelled about thirty miles from
Youldeh. Chimpering consisted of a small acacia, or as we say a mulga,
hollow, the mulga being the Acacia aneura; here a few bare red granite
rocks were exposed to view. In a crevice between two of these Jimmy
showed us a small orifice, which we found, upon baling out, to contain
only three buckets of a filthy black fluid that old Jimmy declared was
water. We annoyed him fearfully by pretending we did not know what it
was. Poor old chap, he couldn't explain how angry he was, but he managed
to stammer out, &ldquo;White fellow&mdash;fool; pony drink 'em.&rdquo;
The day was excessively hot, the thermometer stood at 106&deg; in the
shade. The horses or ponies, as universally called at Fowler's Bay,
drank the dirty water with avidity. It was early in the day when we
arrived, and so soon as the water was taken, we pushed on towards the
next place, Pylebung. At Youldeh our guide had so excited my curiosity
about this place, that I was most anxious to reach it. Jimmy said it was
not very far off.

<p>On the night of the 26th March, just as it was getting dark and
having left Chimpering twenty-five miles behind us, we entered a piece
of bushy mulga country, the bushes being so thick that we had great
difficulty in forcing our way through it in the dark. Our guide seemed
very much in the dark also; his movements were exceedingly uncertain,
and I could see by the stars that we were winding about to all points of
the compass. At last old Jimmy stopped and said we had reached the place
where Pylebung ought to be, but it was not; and here, he said, pointing
to the ground, was to be our wurley, or camp, for the night. When I
questioned him, and asked where the water was, he only replied, which
way? This question I was altogether unable to answer, and I was not in a
very amiable frame of mind, for we had been traversing frightful country
of dense scrubs all day in parching thirst and broiling heat. So I told
Nicholls to unpack the camels while I unsaddled the horses. All the
animals seemed over-powered with lassitude and exhaustion; the camels
immediately lay down, and the horses stood disconsolately close to them,
now no longer terrified at their proximity.

<p>Nicholls and I extended our rugs upon the ground and lay down, and
then we discovered that old Jimmy had left the camp, and thought he had
given us the slip in the dark. We had been lying down some time when the
old fellow returned, and in the most voluble and excited language told
us he had found the water; it was, he said, &ldquo;big one, watta,
mucka, pickaninny;&rdquo; and in his delight at his success he began to
describe it, or try to do so, in the firelight, on the ground; he kept
saying, &ldquo;big one, watta&mdash;big one, watta&mdash;watta go that
way, watta go this way, and watta go that way, and watta go this
way,&rdquo; turning himself round and round, so that I thought it must
be a lake or swamp he was trying to describe. However, we got the camels
and horses resaddled and packed, and took them where old Jimmy led us.
The moon had now risen above the high sandhills that surrounded us, and
we soon emerged upon a piece of open ground where there was a large
white clay-pan, or bare patch of white clay soil, glistening in the
moon's rays, and upon this there appeared an astonishing
object&mdash;something like the wall of an old house or a ruined
chimney. On arriving, we saw that it was a circular wall or dam of clay,
nearly five feet high, with a segment open to the south to admit and
retain the rain-water that occasionally flows over the flat into this
artificial receptacle.

<p>In spite of old Jimmy's asseverations, there was only sufficient
water to last one or two days, and what there was, was very thick and
whitish-coloured. The six animals being excessively thirsty, the volume
of the fluid gradually diminished in the moonlight before our eyes; the
camels and horses' legs and noses were all pushing against one another
while they drank.

<p>This wall, or dam, constructed by the aboriginals, is the first piece
of work of art or usefulness that I had ever seen in all my travels in
Australia; and if I had only heard of it, I should seriously have
reflected upon the credibility of my informant, because no attempts of
skill, or ingenuity, on the part of Australian natives, applied to
building, or the storage of water, have previously been met with, and I
was very much astonished at beholding one now. This piece of work was
two feet thick on the top of the wall, twenty yards in the length of its
sweep, and at the bottom, where the water lodged, the embankment was
nearly five feet thick. The clay of which this dam was composed had been
dug out of the hole in which the water lay, with small native wooden
shovels, and piled up to its present dimensions.

<p>Immediately around this singular monument of native industry, there
are a few hundred acres of very pretty country, beautifully grassed and
ornamented with a few mulga (acacia) trees, standing picturesquely
apart. The spot lies in a basin or hollow, and is surrounded in all
directions by scrubs and rolling sandhills. How we got to it I can
scarcely tell, as our guide kept constantly changing his course, so that
the compass was of little or no use, and it was only by the sextant I
could discover our whereabouts; by it I found we had come fifty-eight
miles from Youldeh on a bearing of south 68&deg; east, we being now in
latitude 30&deg; 43&acute; and longitude 132&deg; 44&acute;. There was
so little water here that I was unable to remain more than one day,
during which the thermometer indicated 104&deg; in the shade.

<p>To the eastward of this dam there was a sandhill with a few black
oaks (casuarinas) growing upon it, about a quarter of a mile away. A
number of stones of a calcareous nature were scattered about on it; on
going up this hill the day we rested the animals here, I was surprised
to find a broad path had been cleared amongst the stones for some dozens
of yards, an oak-tree at each end being the terminal points. At the foot
of each tree at the end of the path the largest stones were heaped; the
path was indented with the tramplings of many natives' feet, and I felt
sure that it was one of those places where the men of this region
perform inhuman mutilations upon the youths and maidens of their tribe.
I questioned old Jimmy about these matters, but he was like all others
of his race, who, while admitting the facts, protest that they,
individually, have never officiated at such doings.

<p>Upon leaving Pylebung Jimmy informed me that Mowling was the next
watering-place, and said it lay nearly east from here; but I found we
went nearly north-east to reach it; this we did in seventeen miles, the
country through which we passed being, as usual, all sandhills and
scrub. Mowling consisted of a small acacia hollow, where there were a
few boulders of granite; in these were two small holes, both as dry as
the surface of the rocks in their vicinity. On our route from Pylebung,
we had seen the tracks of a single bullock; he also had found his way to
Mowling, and probably left it howling; but it must have been some time
since his visit.

<p>From hence old Jimmy led us a good deal south of east, and we arrived
at another exposure of granite rocks in the dense scrubs. This place
Jimmy called Whitegin. It was ten or eleven miles from Mowling. There
was a small crevice between the rounded boulders of rock, which held
barely sufficient water for the three horses, the camels getting none,
though they persisted in bothering us all the afternoon, and appeared
very thirsty. They kept coming up to the camp perpetually, pulling our
canvas bucket and tin utensils about with their lips, and I found the
cunning of a camel in endeavouring to get water at the camp far exceeded
that of any horse.

<p>There were a few dozen acres of pretty ground here with good grass
and herbage on it. We had a great deal of trouble to-day in getting the
camels along; the foal or calf belonging to the old riding-cow got
itself entangled in its mother's nose-rope, and as we did not then
understand the management of camels, and how their nose-ropes should be
adjusted, we could not prevent the little brute from tearing the button
clean through the cartilage of the poor old cow's nose; this not only
caused the animal frightful pain, but made her more obstinate and
stubborn and harder to get along than before. The agony the poor
creature suffered from flies must have been excruciating, as after this
accident they entered her nostrils in such numbers that she often hung
back, and would cough and snort until she had ejected a great quantity
of blood and flies from her nose.

<p>For the last few miles we had not been annoyed by quite so much
spinifex as usual, but the vast amount of dead wood and underbrush was
very detrimental to the progress of the camels, who are not usually in
the habit of lifting their feet very high, though having the power, they
learn it in time, but not before their toes got constantly entangled
with the dead sticks, which made them very sore.

<p>The scrub here and all the way we had come consisted mostly of mallee
(Eucalyptus dumosa) mulga, prickly bushes (hakea), some grevillea-trees,
and a few oaks (casuarinas). This place, Whitegin, was eighty-five miles
straight from Youldeh; we had, however, travelled about 100 miles to
reach it, as Jimmy kept turning and twisting about in the scrubs in all
directions. On leaving Whitegin we travelled several degrees to north of
east, the thermometer in the shade while we rested there going up to
103&deg;. Jimmy said the next place we should get water at was Wynbring,
and from what we could make out of his jargon, he seemed to imply that
Wynbring was a large watercourse descending from a mountain and having a
stony bed; he also said we were now close up, and that it was only a
pickaninny way. However, the shades of night descended upon us once more
in the scrubs of this desert, and we were again compelled to encamp in a
place lonely, and without water, amidst the desolations of this
scrub-enthroned tract. Choking with thirst and sleepless with anxiety,
we pass the hours of night; no dews descend upon this heated place, and
though towards dawn a slightly cooler temperature is felt, the
reappearance of the sun is now so near, that there has been no time for
either earth or man to be benefited by it. Long before the sun himself
appears, those avant-couriers of his fiery might, heated glow, and
feverish breeze, came rustling through the foliage of the mallee-trees,
which give out the semblance of a mournful sigh, as though they too
suffered from the heat and thirst of this desolate region, in which they
are doomed by fate to dwell, and as though they desired to let the
wanderers passing amongst them know, that they also felt, and were sorry
for, our woes.

<p>The morning of March 31st was exceedingly hot, the thermometer at
dawn standing at 86&deg;. We were up and after the camels and horses
long before daylight, tracking them by the light of burning torches of
great bunches and boughs of the mallee trees&mdash;these burn almost as
well green as dry, from the quantity of aromatic eucalyptic oil
contained in them&mdash;and enormous plots of spinifex which we lighted
as we passed.

<p>Having secured all the animals, we started early, and were moving
onwards before sunrise. From Whitegin I found we had come on a nearly
north-east course, and at twenty-eight miles from thence the scrubs fell
off a trifle in height and density. This morning our guide travelled
much straighter than was usual with him, and it was evident he had now
no doubt that he was going in the right direction. About ten o'clock,
after we had travelled thirteen or fourteen miles, Jimmy uttered an
exclamation, pointed out something to us, and declared that it was
Wynbring. Then I could at once perceive how excessively inaccurate, the
old gentleman's account of Wynbring had been, for instead of its being a
mountain, it was simply a round bare mass of stone, standing in the
centre of an open piece of country, surrounded as usual by the scrubs.
When we arrived at the rock, we found the large creek channel, promised
us had microscopicated itself down to a mere rock-hole, whose dimensions
were not very great. The rock itself was a bare expanse of granite, an
acre or two in extent, and was perhaps fifty feet high, while the only
receptacle for water about it was a crevice forty feet long, by four
feet wide, with a depth of six feet in its deepest part. The hole was
not full, but it held an ample supply for all our present requirements.

<p>There were a few low sandhills near, ornamented with occasional
mulga-trees, and they made the place very pretty and picturesque. There
were several old and new native gunyahs, or houses, if such a term can
be applied to these insignificant structures. Australian aborigines are
a race who do not live in houses at all, but still the common instincts
of humanity induce all men to try and secure some spot of earth which,
for a time at least, they may call home; and though the nomadic
inhabitants or owners of these Australian wilds, do not remain for long
in any one particular place, in consequence of the game becoming too
wild or destroyed, or water being used up or evaporated, yet, wherever
they are located, every man or head of a family has his home and his
house, to which he returns in after seasons. The natives in this, as in
most other parts of Australia, seldom hunt without making perpetual
grass or spinifex fires, and the traveller in these wilds may be always
sure that the natives are in the neighbourhood when he can see the
smokes, but it by no means follows that because there are smokes there
must be water. An inversion of the terms would be far more correct, and
you might safely declare that because there is water there are sure to
be smokes, and because there are smokes there are sure to be fires and
because there are fires there are sure to be natives, the present case
being no exception to the rule, as several columns of smoke appeared in
various directions. Old Jimmy's native name was Nanthona; in consequence
he was generally called Anthony, but he liked neither; he preferred
Jimmy, and asked me always to call him so. When at Youldeh the old
fellow had mentioned this spot, Wynbring, as the farthest water he knew
to the eastwards, and now that we had arrived at it, he declared that
beyond it there was nothing; it was the ultima thule of all his
geographical ideas; he had never seen, heard, or thought of anything
beyond it. It was certainly a most agreeable little oasis, and an
excellent spot for an explorer to come to in such a frightful region.
Here were the three requisites that constitute an explorer's
happiness&mdash;that is to say, wood, water, and grass, there being
splendid green feed and herbage on the few thousand acres of open ground
around the rock. The old black guide had certainly brought us to this
romantic and secluded little spot, with, I suppose I may say, unerring
precision, albeit he wound about so much on the road, and made the
distance far greater than it should have been. I was, however, struck
with admiration at his having done so at all, and how he or any other
human being, not having the advantages of science at his command to
teach him, by the use of the heavenly bodies, how to find the position
of any locality, could possibly return to the places we had visited in
such a wilderness, especially as it was done by the recollection of
spots which, to a white man, have no special features and no guiding
points, was really marvellous. We had travelled at least 120 miles
eastward from Youldeh, and when there, this old fellow had told us that
he had not visited any of the places he was going to take me to since
his boyhood; this at the very least must have been forty years ago, for
he was certainly fifty, if not seventy, years old. The knowledge
possessed by these children of the desert is preserved owing to the fact
that their imaginations are untrammelled, the denizens of the
wilderness, having their mental faculties put to but few uses, and all
are concentrated on the object of obtaining food for themselves and
their offspring. Whatever ideas they possess, and they are by no means
dull or backward in learning new ones, are ever keen and young, and
Nature has endowed them with an undying mental youth, until their career
on earth is ended. As says a poet, speaking of savages or men in a state
of nature:&mdash;

<p class="poem">&ldquo;There the passions may revel unfettered,
<br>And the heart never speak but in truth; 
<br>And the intellect, wholly unlettered,
<br>Be bright with the freedom of youth.&rdquo;

<p>Assuredly man in a savage state, is by no means the unhappiest of
mortals. Old Jimmy's faculties of memory were put to the test several
times during the eight days we were travelling from Youldeh to this
rock. Sometimes when leading us through the scrubs, and having travelled
for some miles nearly east, he would notice a tree or a sandhill, or
something that he remembered, and would turn suddenly from that point in
an entirely different direction, towards some high and severe sandhill;
here he would climb a tree. After a few minutes' gazing about, he would
descend, mount his horse, and go off on some new line, and in the course
of a mile or so he would stop at a tree, and tell us that when a little
boy he got a 'possum out of a hole which existed in it. At another place
he said his mother was bitten by a wild dog, which she was digging out
of a hole in the ground; and thus we came to Wynbring at last.

<p>A conspicuous mountain&mdash;indeed the only object upon which the
eye could rest above the dense scrubs that surrounded us&mdash;bore
south 52&deg; east from this rock, and I supposed it was Mount Finke.
Our advent disturbed a number of natives; their fresh footprints were
everywhere about the place, and our guide not being at ease in his mind
as to what sort of reception he might get from the owners of this
demesne, told me if I would let him have a gun, he would go and hunt
them up, and try to induce some of them to come to the camp. The old
chap had but limited experience of firearms, so I gave him an unloaded
gun, as he might have shot himself, or any other of the natives, without
intending to do any harm. Away he went, and returned with five captives,
an antiquated one-eyed old gentleman, with his three wives, and one baby
belonging to the second wife, who had been a woman of considerable
beauty. She was now rather past her prime. What the oldest wife could
ever have been like, it was impossible to guess, as now she seemed more
like an old she-monkey than anything else. The youngest was in the first
flush of youth and grace. The new old man was very tall, and had been
very big and powerful, but he was now shrunken and grey with age. He
ordered his wives to sit down in the shade of a bush near our camp; this
they did. I walked towards the old man, when he immediately threw his
aged arms round me, and clasped me rapturously to his ebony breast. Then
his most ancient wife followed his example, clasping me in the same
manner. The second wife was rather incommoded in her embrace by the baby
in her arms, and it squalled horridly the nearer its mother put it to
me. The third and youngest wife, who was really very pretty, appeared
enchantingly bashful, but what was her bashfulness compared to mine,
when compelled for mere form's sake to enfold in my arms a beautiful and
naked young woman? It was really a distressing ordeal. She showed her
appreciation of our company by the glances of her black and flashing
eyes, and the exposure of two rows of beautifully even and pearly teeth.

<p>However charming woman may look in a nude or native state, with all
her youthful graces about her, still the poetic line, that beauty
unadorned, adorned the most, is not entirely true. Woman never appears
so thoroughly charming as when her graces are enveloped in a becoming
dress. These natives all seemed anxious that I should give them names,
and I took upon myself the responsibility of christening them. The young
beauty I called Polly, the mother Mary, the baby Kitty, the oldest woman
Judy, and to the old man I gave the name of Wynbring Tommy, as an easy
one for him to remember and pronounce. There exists amongst the natives
of this part of the continent, an ancient and Oriental custom which
either compels or induces the wife or wives of a man who is in any way
disfigured in form or feature to show their love, esteem, or obedience,
by becoming similarly disfigured, on the same principle that Sindbad the
Sailor was buried with his wife. In this case the two elder wives of
this old man had each relinquished an eye, and no doubt the time was
soon approaching when the youngest would also show her conjugal fidelity
and love by similar mutilation, unless the old heathen should happen to
die shortly and she become espoused to some other, rejoicing in the
possession of a full complement of eyes&mdash;a consummation devoutly to
be wished.

<p>The position of this rock and watering-place I found to be in
latitude 30&deg; 32&acute; and longitude 133&deg; 30&acute;. The heat
still continued very great, the thermometer at its highest reading never
indicating less than 104&deg; in the shade while we were here. The flies
at this place, and indeed for weeks before we reached it, were terribly
numerous, and we were troubled also with myriads of the large March
flies, those horrid pests about twice the size of the blowfly, and which
bite men, horses, and camels, and all other animals indiscriminately.
These wretches would not allow either us or the animals a moment's
respite, from dawn to dusk; they almost ate the poor creatures alive,
and kept them in a state of perpetual motion in their hobbles during
daylight all the while we were here. In the daytime it was only by
continued use of our hands, in waving a handkerchief or bough, that we
kept them partially off ourselves, for with all our efforts to drive
them away, we were continually bitten and stung almost to madness. I
have often been troubled by these flies in other parts of Australia, but
I never experienced so much pain and annoyance as at this place. The
hideous droning noise which a multitude of these insects make is quite
enough to destroy one's peace, but when their incessant bites are added,
existence becomes a burden.

<p>Since we left Youldeh, and there also, the days had been frightfully
hot, and the nights close, cloudy, and sultry. The only currents of air
that ever stirred the foliage of the trees in the daytime were like the
breath from a furnace, while at night there was hardly any at all. The
1st of April, the last day we remained here, was the hottest day we had
felt. Life was almost insupportable, and I determined to leave the place
upon the morrow. There had evidently been some rain at this rock lately,
as the grass and herbage were green and luxuriant, and the flies so
numerous. It was most fortunate for us, as my subsequent narrative will
show, that we had some one to guide us to this spot, which I found by
observation lay almost east of Youldeh, and was distant from that depot
110 miles in a straight line. Old Jimmy knew nothing whatever of the
region which lay beyond, and though I endeavoured to get him to ask the
old man and his wives where any other waters existed, all the
information I could gather from these persons was, that there was a big
mountain and no water at it. The old man at last found enough English to
say, &ldquo;Big fellow Poonta (stones, hills, or mountains) and mucka
carpee,&rdquo; which means no water. I gave these poor people a little
damper and some tea each, and Polly some sugar, when they departed. Old
Jimmy seemed very unwilling to go any farther eastwards, giving me to
understand that it was a far better plan to return to Fowler's Bay, and
that he would show me some new watering-places if I would only follow
him. To this, of course, I turned a deaf ear.

<p>The nearest water on the route I desired to travel, was at Sir Thomas
Elder's cattle station, at the Finniss Springs, under the Hermit Hill,
distant from this rock about 250 miles in a straight line; but as the
mountain to the south-east looked so conspicuous and inviting, I
determined to visit it, in spite of what the old black fellow had said
about there being no water, though it lay considerably out of the
straight road to where I wanted to go. It looked high and rugged, and I
thought to find water in some rock-hole or crevice about it.

<hr>

<h4><a name="ch3.2">CHAPTER 3.2. FROM 2ND APRIL TO 6TH MAY, 1875.</a></h4>
<blockquote>
Leave Wynbring.
The horses.
Mountains of sand.
Mount Finke.
One horse succumbs.
Torchlight tracking.
Trouble with the camels.
A low mount.
Dry salt lagoons.
200 miles yet from water.
Hope.
Death of Chester.
The last horse.
A steede, a steede.
Ships of the desert.
Reflections at night.
Death or Water.
The Hermit Hill.
Black shepherds and shepherdesses.
The Finniss Springs.
Victims to the bush.
Footprints on the sands of time.
Alec Ross.
Reach Beltana.
</blockquote>
<p>On the 2nd April we departed from this friendly depot at Wynbring
Rock, taking our three horses, the two camels and the calf. The morning
was as hot as fire; at midday we watered all our animals, and having
saddled and packed them, we left the place behind us. On the two camels
we carried as much water as we had vessels to hold it, the quantity
being nearly fifty gallons. The horses were now on more friendly terms
with them, so that they could be led by a person on horseback. Old
Jimmy, now no longer a guide, was not permitted to take the lead, but
rode behind, to see that nothing fell off the camels' saddles. I rode in
advance, on my best horse Chester, a fine, well-set chestnut cob, a
horse I was very fond of, as he had proved himself so good. Nicholls
rode a strong young grey horse called Formby; he also had proved himself
to my satisfaction to be a good one. Jimmy was mounted on an old black
horse, that was a fine ambler, the one that bolted away with the load of
water the first night we started from Youldeh. He had not stood the
journey from Youldeh at all well; the other two were quite fresh and
hearty when we left Wynbring.

<p>By the evening of the 2nd we had made only twenty-two miles. We found
the country terrific; the ground rose into sandhills so steep and high,
that all our animals were in a perfect lather of sweat. The camels could
hardly be got along at all. At night, where we were compelled by
darkness to encamp, there was nothing for the horses to eat, so the poor
brutes had to be tied up, lest they should ramble back to Wynbring.
There was plenty of food for the camels, as they could eat the leaves of
some of the bushes, but they were too sulky to eat because they were
tied up. The bull continually bit his nose-rope through, and made
several attempts to get away, the calf always going with him, leaving
his mother: this made her frantic to get away too. The horses got
frightened, and were snorting and jumping about, trying to break loose
all night. The spot we were in was a hollow, between two high sandhills,
and not a breath of air relieved us from the oppression of the
atmosphere. Peter Nicholls and I were in a state of thirst and
perspiration the whole night, running about after the camels and keeping
the horses from breaking away. If the cow had got loose, we could not
have prevented the camels clearing off. I was never more gratified than
at the appearance of the next morning's dawn, as it enabled us to move
away from this dreadful place. It was impossible to travel through this
region at night, even by moonlight; we should have lost our eyes upon
the sticks and branches of the direful scrubs if we had attempted it,
besides tearing our skin and clothes to pieces also. Starting at
earliest dawn, and traversing formidably steep and rolling waves of
sand, we at length reached the foot of the mountain we had been striving
for, in twenty-three miles, forty-five from Wynbring. I could not help
thinking it was the most desolate heap on the face of the earth, having
no water or places that could hold it. The elevation of this eminence
was over 1000 feet above the surrounding country, and over 2000 feet
above the sea. The country visible from its summit was still enveloped
in dense scrubs in every direction, except on a bearing a few degrees
north of east, where some low ridges appeared. I rode my horse Chester
many miles over the wretched stony slopes at the foot of this mountain,
and tied him up to trees while I walked to its summit, and into gullies
and crevices innumerable, but no water rewarded my efforts, and it was
very evident that what the old black fellow Wynbring Tommy, had said,
about its being waterless was only too true. After wasting several hours
in a fruitless search for water, we left the wretched mount, and steered
away for the ridges I had seen from its summit. They appeared to be
about forty-five miles away. As it was so late in the day when we left
the mountain, we got only seven miles from it when darkness again
overtook us, and we had to encamp.

<p>On the following day, the old horse Jimmy was riding completely gave
in from the heat and thirst and fearful nature of the country we were
traversing, having come only sixty-five miles from Wynbring. We could
neither lead, ride, nor drive him any farther. We had given each horse
some water from the supply the camels carried, when we reached the
mountain, and likewise some on the previous night, as the heavy
sandhills had so exhausted them, this horse having received more than
the others. Now he lay down and stretched out his limbs in the agony of
thirst and exhaustion. I was loth to shoot the poor old creature, and I
also did not like the idea of leaving him to die slowly of thirst; but I
thought perhaps if I left him, he might recover sufficiently to travel
at night at his own pace, and thus return to Wynbring, although I also
knew from former sad experience in Gibson's Desert, that, like Badger
and Darkie, it was more than probable he could never escape. His saddle
was hung in the fork of a sandal-wood-tree, not the sandal-wood of
commerce, and leaving him stretched upon the burning sand, we moved
away. Of course he was never seen or heard of after.

<p>That night we encamped only a few miles from the ridges, at a place
where there was a little dry grass, and where both camels and horses
were let go in hobbles. Long before daylight on the following morning,
old Jimmy and I were tracking the camels by torchlight, the horse-bells
indicating that those animals were not far off; the camel-bells had gone
out of hearing early in the night. Old Jimmy was a splendid tracker;
indeed, no human being in the world but an Australian aboriginal, and
that a half or wholly wild one, could track a camel on some surfaces,
for where there is any clayey soil, the creature leaves no more mark on
the ground than an ant&mdash;black children often amuse themselves by
tracking ants&mdash;and to follow such marks as they do leave, by
firelight, was marvellous. Occasionally they would leave some marks that
no one could mistake, where they passed over sandy ground; but for many
hundreds beyond, it would appear as though they must have flown over the
ground and had never put their feet to the earth at all. By the time
daylight appeared, old Jimmy had tracked them about three miles; then he
went off, apparently quite regardless of any tracks at all, walking at
such a pace, that I could only keep up with him by occasionally running.
We came upon the camels at length at about six miles from the camp,
amongst some dry clay-pans, and they were evidently looking for water.
The old cow, which was the only riding camel, was so poor and bony, it
was too excruciating to ride her without a saddle or a pad of some sort,
which now we had not got, so we took it in turns to ride the bull, and
he made many attempts to shake us off; but as he had so much hair on his
hump, we could cling on by that as we sat behind it. It was necessary
for whoever was walking to lead him by his nose-rope, or he would have
bolted away and rubbed his encumbrance off against a tree, or else
rolled on it. In consequence of the camels having strayed so far, it was
late in the day when we again started, the two horses looking fearfully
hollow and bad. The morning as usual was very hot. There not being now a
horse a piece to ride, and the water which one camel had carried having
been drank by the animals, Peter Nicholls rode the old cow again, both
she and the bull being much more easy to manage and get along than when
we started from Youldeh. Our great difficulty was with the nose-ropes;
the calf persisted in getting in front of its mother and twisting her
nose-rope round his neck, also in placing itself right in between the
fore-legs of the bull. This would make him stop, pull back and break his
rope, or else the button would tear through the nose; this caused
detention a dozen times a day, and I was so annoyed with the young
animal, I could scarcely keep from shooting it many times. The young
creature was most endearing now, when caught, and evidently suffered
greatly from thirst.

<p>We reached the ridges in seven miles from where we had camped, and
had now come ninety miles from Wynbring. We could find no water at these
ridges, as there were no places that could hold it. Here we may be said
to have entered on a piece of open country, and as it was apparently a
change for the better from the scrubs, I was very glad to see it,
especially as we hoped to obtain water on it. Our horses were now in a
terrible state of thirst, for the heat was great, and the region we had
traversed was dreadfully severe, and though they had each been given
some of the water we brought with us, yet we could not afford anything
like enough to satisfy them. From the top of the ridge a low mount or
hill bore 20&deg; north of east; Mount Finke, behind us, bore 20&deg;
south of west. I pushed on now for the hill in advance, as it was nearly
on the route I desired to travel. The country being open, we made good
progress, and though we could not reach it that night, we were upon its
summit early the next morning, it being about thirty miles from the
ridges we had left, a number of dry, salt, white lagoons intervening.
This hill was as dry and waterless as the mount and ridges, we had left
behind us in the scrubs. Dry salt lagoons lay scattered about in nearly
all directions, glittering with their saline encrustations, as the sun's
rays flashed upon them. To the southward two somewhat inviting isolated
hills were seen; in all other directions the horizon appeared gloomy in
the extreme. We had now come 120 miles from water, and the supply we had
started with was almost exhausted; the country we were in could give us
none, and we had but one, of two courses to pursue, either to advance
still further into this terrible region, or endeavour to retreat to
Wynbring. No doubt the camels could get back alive, but ourselves and
the horses could never have recrossed the frightful bed of rolling
sand-mounds, that intervened between us and the water we had left. My
poor old black companion was aghast at such a region, and also at what
he considered my utter folly in penetrating into it at all. Peter
Nicholls, I was glad to find, was in good spirits, and gradually
changing his opinions with regard to the powers and value of the camels.
They had received no water themselves, though they had laboured over the
hideous sandhills, laden with the priceless fluid for the benefit of the
horses, and it was quite evident the latter could not much longer live,
in such a desert, whilst the former were now far more docile and
obedient to us than when we started. Whenever the horses were given any
water, we had to tie the camels up at some distance. The expression in
these animals' eyes when they saw the horses drinking was extraordinary;
they seemed as though they were going to speak, and had they done so, I
know well they would have said, &ldquo;You give those useless little
pigmies the water that cannot save them, and you deny it to us, who have
carried it, and will yet be your only saviours in the end.&rdquo; After
we had fruitlessly searched here for water, having wasted several hours,
we left this wretched hill, and I continued steering upon the same
course we had come, namely, north 75&deg; east, as that bearing would
bring me to the north-western extremity of Lake Torrens, still distant
over 120 miles. It was very probable we should get no water, as none is
known to exist where we should touch upon its shores. Thus we were,
after coming 120 miles from Wynbring, still nearly 200 miles from the
Finniss Springs, the nearest water that I knew. It was now a matter of
life and death; could we reach the Finniss at all? We could neither
remain here, nor should we survive if we attempted to retreat; to
advance was our only chance of escape from the howling waste in which we
were almost entombed; we therefore moved onwards, as fast and as far as
we could. On the following morning, before dawn, I had been lying
wakefully listening for the different sounds of the bells on the
animals' necks, and got up to brighten up the camp fire with fresh wood,
when the strange sound of the quacking of a wild duck smote upon my ear.
The blaze of firelight had evidently attracted the creature, which
probably thought it was the flashing of water, as it flew down close to
my face, and almost precipitated itself into the flames; but discovering
its error, it wheeled away upon its unimpeded wings, and left me
wondering why this denizen of the air and water, should be sojourning
around the waterless encampment of such hapless travellers as we. The
appearance of such a bird raised my hopes, and forced me to believe that
we must be in the neighbourhood of some water, and that the coming
daylight would reveal to us the element which alone could save us and
our unfortunate animals from death. But, alas! how many human hopes and
aspirations are continually doomed to perish unfulfilled; and were it
not that &ldquo;Hope springs eternal in the human breast,&rdquo; all
faith, all energy, all life, and all success would be at an end, as then
we should know that most of our efforts are futile, whereas now we hope
they may attain complete fruition. Yet, on the other hand, we learn that
the fruit of dreamy hoping is waking blank despair. We were again in a
region of scrubs as bad and as dense as those I hoped and thought, I had
left behind me.

<p>Leaving our waterless encampment, we continued our journey, a
melancholy, thirsty, silent trio. At 150 miles from Wynbring my poor
horse Chester gave in, and could go no farther; for some miles I had
walked, and we had the greatest difficulty in forcing him along, but now
he was completely exhausted and rolled upon the ground in the death
agony of thirst. It was useless to waste time over the unfortunate
creature; it was quite impossible for him ever to rise again, so in
mercy I fired a revolver-bullet at his forehead, as he gasped
spasmodically upon the desert sand: a shiver passed through his frame,
and we left him dead in the lonely spot.

<p>We had now no object but to keep pushing on; our supply of water was
all but gone, and we were in the last stage of thirst and wretchedness.
By the night of that day we had reached a place 168 miles from Wynbring,
and in all that distance not a drop of water had been found. We had one
unfortunate horse left, the grey called Formby, and that poor creature
held out as long and on as little water as I am sure is possible in such
a heated and horrid region. On the following morning the poor beast came
up to Nicholls and I, old Jimmy being after the camels which were close
by, and began to smell us, then stood gazing vacantly at the fire; a
thought seemed to strike him that it was water, and he put his mouth
down into the flames. This idea seems to actuate all animals when in the
last stage of thirst. We were choking with thirst ourselves, but we
agreed to sacrifice a small billyful of our remaining stock of water for
this unfortunate last victim to our enterprise. We gave him about two
quarts, and bitterly we regretted it later, hoping he might still be
able to stagger on to where water might be found; but vain was the hope
and vain the gift, for the creature that had held up so long and so
well, swallowed up the last little draught we gave, fell down and rolled
and shivered in agony, as Chester had done, and he died and was at rest.
A singular thing about this horse was that his eyes had sunk into his
head until they were all but hidden. For my own part, in such a region
and in such a predicament as we were placed, I would not unwillingly
have followed him into the future.

<p>The celebrated Sir Thomas Mitchell, one of Australia's early
explorers, in one of his journeys, after finding a magnificent country
watered by large rivers, and now the long-settled abodes of
civilisation, mounted on a splendid horse, bursts into an old cavalier
song, a verse of which says:

<p class="poem">&ldquo;A steede, a steede of matchless speede,
<br>A sworde of metal keane; 
<br>All else to noble mindes is drosse; 
<br>All else on earthe is meane.&rdquo;

<p>I don't know what he would have thought had he been in my case, with
his matchless &ldquo;steede&rdquo; dead, and in the pangs of thirst
himself, his &ldquo;sworde of metal keane&rdquo; a useless encumbrance,
168 miles from the last water, and not knowing where the next might be;
he would have to admit that the wonderful beasts which now alone
remained to us were by no means to be accounted &ldquo;meane,&rdquo; for
these patient and enduring creatures, which were still alive, had tasted
no water since leaving Wynbring, and, though the horses were dead and
gone, stood up with undiminished powers&mdash;appearing to be as well
able now to continue on and traverse this wide-spread desert as when
they left the last oasis behind. We had nothing now to depend upon but
our two &ldquo;ships of the desert,&rdquo; which we were only just
beginning to understand. I had been a firm believer in them from the
first, and had many an argument with Nicholls about them; his opinion
had now entirely altered. At Youldeh he had called them ugly, useless,
lazy brutes, that were not to be compared to horses for a moment; but
now that the horses were dead they seemed more agreeable and
companionable than ever the horses had been.

<p>When Jimmy brought them to the camp they looked knowingly at the
prostrate form of the dead horse; they kneeled down close beside it and
received their loads, now indeed light enough, and we went off again
into the scrubs, riding and walking by turns, our lives entirely
depending on the camels; Jimmy had told us they were calmly feeding upon
some of the trees and bushes in the neighbourhood when he got them. That
they felt the pangs of thirst there can be no doubt&mdash;and what
animal can suffer thirst like a camel?&mdash;as whenever they were
brought to the camp they endeavoured to fumble about the empty
water-bags, tin pannikins, and any other vessel that ever had contained
water.

<p>The days of toil, the nights of agony and feverish unrest, that I
spent upon this journey I can never forget. After struggling through the
dense scrubs all day we were compelled perforce to remain in them all
night. It was seldom now we spoke to one another, we were too thirsty
and worn with lassitude to converse, and my reflections the night after
the last horse died, when we had come nearly 200 miles without water, of
a necessity assumed a gloomy tinge, although I am the least
gloomy-minded of the human race, for we know that the tone of the mind
is in a great measure sympathetic with the physical condition of the
body. If the body is weak from exhaustion and fatigue, the brain and
mind become dull and sad, and the thoughts of a wanderer in such a
desolate region as this, weary with a march in heat and thirst from
daylight until dark, who at last sinks upon the heated ground to watch
and wait until the blazing sunlight of another day, perhaps, may bring
him to some place of rest, cannot be otherwise than of a mournful kind.
The mind is forced back upon itself, and becomes filled with an endless
chain of thoughts which wander through the vastness of the
star-bespangled spheres; for here, the only things to see, the only
things to love, and upon which the eye may gaze, and from which the
beating heart may gather some feelings of repose, are the glittering
bands of brilliant stars shining in the azure vault of heaven. From my
heated couch of sandy earth I gazed helplessly but rapturously upon
them, wondering at the enormity of occupied and unoccupied space,
revolving thoughts of past, present, and future existencies, and of how
all that is earthly fadeth away. But can that be the case with our world
itself, with the sun from which it obtains its light and life, or with
the starry splendours of the worlds beyond the sun? Will they, can they,
ever fade? They are not spiritual; celestial still we call them, but
they are material all, in form and nature. We are both; yet we must fade
and they remain. How is the understanding to decide which of the two
holds the main spring and thread of life? Certainly we know that the
body decays, and even the paths of glory lead but to the grave; but we
also know that the mind becomes enfeebled with the body, that the aged
become almost idiotic in their second childhood; and if the body is to
rise again, how is poor humanity to distinguish the germ of immortality?
Philosophies and speculations upon the future have been subjects of the
deepest thought for the highest minds of every generation of mankind;
and although creeds have risen and sunk, and old religions and
philosophies have passed away, the dubious minds of mortal men still
hang and harp upon the theme of what can be the Great Beyond. The
various creeds, of the many different nations of the earth induce them
to believe in as many differing notions of heaven, but all and each
appear agreed upon the point that up into the stars alone their
hoped-for heaven is to be found; and if all do not, in this agree, still
there are some aspiring minds high soaring above sublunary things, above
the petty disputes of differing creeds, and the vague promises they hold
out to their votaries, who behold, in the firmament above, mighty and
mysterious objects for veneration and love.

<p>These are the gorgeous constellations set thick with starry gems, the
revolving orbs of densely crowded spheres, the systems beyond systems,
clusters beyond clusters, and universes beyond universes, all
brilliantly glittering with various coloured light, all wheeling and
swaying, floating and circling round some distant, unknown, motive,
centre-point, in the pauseless measures of a perpetual dance of joy,
keeping time and tune with most ecstatic harmony, and producing upon the
enthralled mind the not imaginary music of the spheres.

<p>Then comes the burning wish to know how come these mighty mysterious
and material things about. We are led to suppose as our own minds and
bodies progressively improve from a state of infancy to a certain-point,
so it is with all things we see in nature; but the method of the
original production of life and matter is beyond the powers of man to
discover. Therefore, we look forward with anxiety and suspense, hope,
love, and fear to a future time, having passed through the portals of
the valley of death, from this existence, we shall enjoy life after
life, in new body, after new body, passing through new sphere, after new
sphere, arriving nearer and nearer to the fountain-head of all
perfection, the divinely great Almighty source of light and life, of
hope and love.

<p>These were some of my reflections throughout that weary night; the
stars that in their constellations had occupied the zenith, now have
passed the horizon's verge; other and fresh glittering bands now occupy
their former places&mdash;at last the dawn begins to glimmer in the
east, and just as I could have fallen into the trance of sleep, it was
time for the race for life, again to wander on, so soon as our animals
could be found.

<p>This was the eighth day of continued travel from Wynbring; our water
was now all gone, and we were yet more than 100 miles from the Finniss
Springs. I had been compelled to enforce a most rigid and inadequate
economy with our water during our whole march; when we left the camp
where the last horse died very little over three pints remained; we were
all very bad, old Jimmy was nearly dead. At about four o'clock in the
afternoon we came to a place where there was a considerable fall into a
hollow, here was some bare clay&mdash;in fact it was an enormous
clay-pan, or miniature lake-bed; the surface was perfectly dry, but in a
small drain or channel, down which water could descend in times of rain,
by the blessing of Providence I found a supply of yellow water. Nicholls
had previously got strangely excited&mdash;in fact the poor fellow was
light-headed from thirst, and at one place where there was no water he
threw up his hat and yelled out &ldquo;Water, water!&rdquo; he walking a
little in advance; we had really passed the spot where the water was,
but when Nicholls gave the false information I jumped down off my camel
and ran up to him, only to be grievously disappointed; but as I went
along I caught sight of a whitish light through the mulga trees
partially behind me, and without saying a word for fear of fresh
disappointment, I walked towards what I had seen; Nicholls and Jimmy,
who both seemed dazed, went on with the camels.

<p>What I had seen, was a small sheet of very white water, and I could
not resist the temptation to drink before I went after them. By the time
I had drank they had gone on several hundred yards; when I called to
them and flung up my hat, they were so stupid with thirst, and
disappointment, that they never moved towards me, but stood staring
until I took the camels' nose-rope in my hand, and, pointing to my
knees, which were covered with yellow mud, simply said
&ldquo;water&rdquo;; then, when I led the camels to the place, down
these poor fellows went on their knees, in the mud and water, and drank,
and drank, and I again knelt down and drank, and drank. Oh, dear reader,
if you have never suffered thirst you can form no conception what agony
it is. But talk about drinking, I couldn't have believed that even
thirsty camels could have swallowed such enormous quantities of fluid.

<p>It was delightful to watch the poor creatures visibly swelling before
our eyes. I am sure the big bull Mustara must have taken down fifty
gallons of water, for even after the first drink, when we took their
saddles off at the camp, they all three went back to the water and kept
drinking for nearly an hour.

<p>We had made an average travelling of twenty-eight miles a day from
Wynbring, until this eighth day, when we came to the water in
twenty-four miles, thus making it 220 miles in all. I could not
sufficiently admire and praise the wonderful powers of these
extraordinary, and to me entirely new animals. During the time we had
been travelling the weather had been very hot and oppressive, the
thermometer usually rising to 104&deg; in the shade when we rested for
an hour in the middle of the day, but that was not the hottest time,
from 2.40 to 3 p.m. being the culminating period. The country we had
traversed was a most frightful desert, yet day after day our noble
camels kept moving slowly but surely on, with undiminished powers,
having carried water for their unfortunate companions the horses, and
seeing them drop one by one exhausted and dying of thirst; still they
marched contentedly on, carrying us by turns, and all the remaining gear
of the dead horses, and finally brought us to water at last. We had yet
over eighty miles to travel to reach the Finniss, and had we not found
water I am sure the three human beings of the party could never have got
there. The walking in turns over this dreadful region made us suffer all
the more, and it was dangerous at any time to allow old Jimmy to put his
baking lips to a water-bag, for he could have drank a couple of gallons
at any time with the greatest ease. For some miles before we found the
water the country had become of much better quality, the sandhills being
lower and well grassed, with clay flats between. We also passed a number
with pine-trees growing on them. Rains had evidently visited this
region, as before I found the water I noticed that many of the deeper
clay channels were only recently dry; when I say deeper, I mean from one
to two feet, the usual depth of a clay-pan channel being about as many
inches. The grass and herbage round the channel where I found the water
were beautifully green.

<p>Our course from the last hill had been about north 75&deg; east; the
weather, which had been exceedingly oppressive for so many weeks, now
culminated in a thunderstorm of dust, or rather sand and wind, while
dark nimbus clouds completely eclipsed the sun, and reduced the
temperature to an agreeable and bearable state. No rain fell, but from
this change the heats of summer departed, though the change did not
occur until after we had found the water; now all our good things came
together, namely, an escape from death by thirst, a watered and better
travelling country, and cooler weather. Here we very naturally took a
day to recruit. Old Jimmy was always very anxious to know how the
compass was working, as I had always told him the compass would bring us
to water, that it knew every country and every water, and as it did
bring us to water, he thought what I said about it must be true. I also
told him it would find some more water for us to-morrow. We were always
great friends, but now I was so advanced in his favour that he promised
to give me his daughter Mary for a wife when I took him back to Fowler's
Bay. Mary was a very pretty little girl. But &ldquo;I to wed with
Coromantees? Thoughts like these would drive me mad. And yet I hold some
(young) barbarians higher than the Christian cad.&rdquo; After our day's
rest we again proceeded on our journey, with all our water vessels
replenished, and of course now found several other places on our route
where rain-water was lying, and it seemed like being translated to a
brighter sphere, to be able to indulge in as much water-drinking as we
pleased.

<h5><a name="i31">ILLUSTRATION 31</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t31.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>THE HERMIT HILL AND FINNISS SPRINGS.</h5>

<p>At one place where we encamped there was a cane grass flat, over a
mile long, fifty to a hundred yards wide, and having about four feet of
water in it, which was covered with water-fowl; amongst these a number
of black swans were gracefully disporting themselves. Peter Nicholls
made frantic efforts to shoot a swan and some ducks, but he only brought
one wretchedly small teal into the camp. We continued on our former
course until we touched upon and rounded the north-western extremity of
Lake Torrens. I then changed my course for the Hermit Hill, at the foot
of which the Finniss Springs and Sir Thomas Elder's cattle station lies.
Our course was now nearly north. On the evening of the third day after
leaving the water that had saved us, we fell in with two black fellows
and their lubras or wives, shepherding two flocks of Mr. Angas's sheep
belonging to his Stuart's Creek station. As they were at a water, we
encamped with them. Their lubras were young and pretty; the men were
very hospitable to us, and gave us some mutton, for which we gave them
tobacco and matches; for their kindness I gave the pretty lubras some
tea and sugar. Our old Jimmy went up to them and shook hands, and they
became great friends. These blacks could not comprehend where we could
possibly have come from, Fowler's Bay being an unknown quantity to them.
We had still a good day's stage before us to reach the Finniss, but at
dusk we arrived, and were very kindly received and entertained by Mr.
Coulthard, who was in charge. His father had been an unfortunate
explorer, who lost his life by thirst, upon the western shores of the
Lake Torrens I have mentioned, his tin pannikin or pint pot was
afterwards found with his name and the date of the last day he lived,
scratched upon it. Many an unrecorded grave, many a high and noble mind,
many a gallant victim to temerity and thirst, to murder by relentless
native tribes, or sad mischance, is hidden in the wilds of Australia,
and not only in the wilds, but in places also less remote, where the
whistle of the shepherd and the bark of his dog, the crack of the
stockman's whip, or the gay or grumbling voice of the teamster may now
be heard, some unfortunate wanderer may have died. As the poet
says:&mdash;

<p class="poem">&ldquo;Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid,
<br>Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire; 
<br>Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed,
<br>Or waked to ecstacy the living lyre.&rdquo;

<p>If it is with a thought of pity, if it is with a sigh of lament, that
we ponder over the fate of the lost, over the deaths in the long
catalogue of the victims to the Australian bush, from Cunningham (lost
with Mitchell) and Leichhardt, Kennedy and Gilbert, Burke, Wiils, Gray,
Poole, Curlewis and Conn, down to Coulthard, Panter, and Gibson, it must
be remembered that they died in a noble cause, and they sleep in
honourable graves. Nor must it be forgotten that they who return from
confronting the dangers by which these others fell, have suffered enough
to make them often wish that they, too, could escape through the grave
from the horrors surrounding them. I have often been in such
predicaments that I have longed for death, but having as yet returned
alive, from deserts and their thirst, from hostile native tribes and
deadly spears, and feeling still &ldquo;the wild pulsation which in
manhood's dawn I knew, when my days were all before me, and my years
were twenty-two,&rdquo;&mdash;as long as there are new regions to
explore, the burning charm of seeking something new, will still possess
me; and I am also actuated to aspire and endeavour if I cannot make my
life sublime, at least to leave behind me some &ldquo;everlasting
footprints on the sands of time.&rdquo;

<p>At the Finniss Springs I met young Alec Ross, the son of another
explorer, who was going to join my party for the new expedition to
Perth. My destination was now Beltana, 140 miles from hence. I got a
couple of horses for Nicholls and myself from Mr. Coulthard, Jimmy being
stuck up on the top of the old riding cow camel, who could travel
splendidly on a road. When I arrived at Beltana I had travelled 700
miles from Fowler's Bay.

<hr>

<h5><a name="m5">Map 5</a></h5>
<h5>Fourth Expedition, 1875.</h5>

<h3><a name="book4">BOOK 4.</a></h3>

<h4>CHAPTER 4.1. FROM 6TH MAY TO 27TH JULY, 1875.</h4>
<blockquote>
Fourth expedition.
The members.
Departure.
Squabbles.
Port Augusta.
Coogee Mahomet.
Mr. Roberts and Tommy.
Westward ho!.
The equipment.
Dinner and a sheep.
The country.
A cattle ranch.
Stony plateau.
The Elizabeth.
Mr. Moseley.
Salt lakes.
Coondambo.
Curdling tea.
An indented hill.
A black boy's argument.
Pale-green-foliaged tree.
A lost officer.
Camels poisoned.
Mount Finke in the winter.
Wynbring.
A new route.
A good Mussulman.
Depart from Wynbring.
New places.
Antediluvian cisterns.
Still westwards.
Lake Bring.
Rain and a bath.
A line cut in the scrubs.
High sandhills.
Return to Youldeh.
Waking dreams.
In depot.
Fowler's Bay once more.
The officers explore to the north.
Jimmy and Tommy.
Jimmy's bereavement.
At the bay.
Richard Dorey.
Return to Youldeh.
Tommy's father.
The officer's report Northwards.
Remarks.
</blockquote>
<p>Sir Thomas Elder was desirous that the new expedition for Perth, for
which camels were to be the only animals taken, should start from
Beltana by the 1st of May. I was detained a few days beyond that time,
but was enabled to leave on Thursday, May the 6th. The members of the
party were six in number, namely myself, Mr. William Henry Tietkens, who
had been with me as second on my last expedition with horses&mdash;he
had been secured from Melbourne by Sir Thomas Elder, and was again going
as second; Mr. Jess Young, a young friend of Sir Thomas's lately arrived
from England; Alexander Ross, mentioned previously; Peter Nicholls, who
had just come with me from Fowler's Bay, and who now came as cook; and
Saleh, the Afghan camel-driver as they like to be called. I also took
for a short distance, until Alec Ross overtook me, another Afghan called
Coogee Mahomet, and the old guide Jimmy, who was to return to the bosom
of his family so soon as we arrived anywhere sufficiently near the
neighbourhood of his country. Poor old Jimmy had been ill at Beltana,
and suffered greatly from colds and influenza. The Beltana blacks did
not treat him so well as he expected, and some of them threatened to
kill him for poking his nose into their country, consequently he did not
like the place at all, and was mighty glad to be taken away. Thus, as I
have said, on the 6th of May, 1875, the caravan departed from Beltana,
but we did not immediately leave civilisation or the settled districts,
as I had to travel 150 miles down the country nearly south, to Port
Augusta at the head of Spencer's Gulf, where I intended to take in my
stores, and loading for the inland voyage, as most of my equipment was
forwarded by Sir Thomas from Adelaide to that port.

<p>Nothing very particular occurred on the road down, except some
continual squabbles between myself, and Saleh and Coogee, on account of
the extraordinary and absurd manner in which these two men wanted to
load and work the camels. In the first place, we had several young
camels or colts in the mob, some of these were bulls and others
bullocks. The Afghans have a way when travelling of bringing the camels
up to the camp and making them lie down by their loads all night,
whether they have had time to fill themselves or not. This system was so
revolting to my notions of fair play that I determined to alter it at
once.

<p>Another thing that annoyed me was their absurd and stupid custom of
hobbling, and unhobbling, while the camels were lying down. This may be
necessary for the first few days after the creatures are handled, but if
they are never accustomed to have their legs and feet touched while they
are standing up, of course they may paw, or strike and kick like a young
horse; and if a camel is a striker, he is rather an awkward kind of a
brute, but that is only the case with one in a thousand. The Afghans not
only persist in hobbling and unhobbling while the camels are lying down,
but never think of taking the hobbles entirely off at all, as they
unfasten the hobble from one leg and put both on the other, so that the
poor brutes always have to carry them on one leg when they are
travelling. I quickly put a stop to this, but Coogee Mahomet exclaimed,
&ldquo;Oh, master! you mustn't take off a hobble, camel he keek, he
keek, you mustn't.&rdquo; To which I replied, &ldquo;Let him kick, and I
hope he will kick you to death first, so that there will be one Afghan
less in the world, but every hobble shall come off every camel every
day.&rdquo; This Coogee was a most amusing though lazy, indolent beggar.
He never ceased to brag of what he could make camels do; he wished to
ingratiate himself with me in the hope I would take him with me, but I
had already determined to have only one of his countrymen. He said if he
came with me he could make the camels go 200, 300, 400 or 500 miles with
heavy loads without water, by just talking to them in his language. He
used to say, &ldquo;You know, master, camel he know me, and my
countrymen; camel he un'stand my language, he no like Englishman,
Englishman, he no un'stand riding camel, he no un'stand loading camel,
only my countryman he un'stand camel,&rdquo; etc., etc.; but with all
his bragging about the camels going so long without water, when we had
been only four days gone from Beltana, Saleh and Coogee had held a
council and decided that I must be remonstrated with, in consequence of
my utter ignorance, stupidity, and reckless treatment of the camels.
Accordingly on the fourth morning, the weather having been delightfully
cool and the camels not requiring any water, Coogee came to me and said,
&ldquo;Master, when you water camel?&rdquo; &ldquo;What?&rdquo; I said
with unfeigned astonishment, &ldquo;Water the camels? I never heard of
such a thing, they will get no water until they reach Port
Augusta.&rdquo; This completely upset Mr. Coogee, and he replied,
&ldquo;What! no water till Port Gusta? camel he can't go, camel he
always get water three, four time from Beltana to Port Gusta.&rdquo;
&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;Coogee, they will get none now with
me till they walk to Port Augusta for it.&rdquo; Then Coogee said,
&ldquo;Ah! Mr. Gile, you very smart master, you very clever man, only
you don't know camel, you'll see you'll kill all Sir Thomas Elder camel;
you'll no get Perth, you and all you party, and all you camel die;
you'll see, you'll see; you no give poor camel water, camel he die, then
where you be?&rdquo; I was rather annoyed and said, &ldquo;You stupid
ass, it was only yesterday you said you could take camels, 300, 400, 500
miles without water, with heavy loads, and now they have no loads and we
have only come about seventy miles, you say they will die if I don't
give them water. How is it that all your countrymen continually brag of
what camels can do, and yet, when they have been only three days without
water, you begin to cry out that they want it?&rdquo;

<p>To this he only condescended to reply, &ldquo;Ah! ah! you very
clever, you'll see.&rdquo; Of course the camels went to the port just as
well without water as with it. Alec Ross overtook us on the road, and
brought a special little riding-camel (Reechy) for me. I got rid of Mr.
Coogee before we arrived at the port. We remained a little over a week,
as all the loads had to be arranged and all the camels' pack-saddles
required re-arranging. Saleh and another of his countryman who happened
to be there, worked hard at this, while the rest of the party arranged
the loads.

<p>While at Port Augusta, Mr. Charles Roberts, who had been with me, and
with whom I left all the horses at Youldeh, arrived, by the usual road
and brought me a young black boy, Master Tommy Oldham, with whom I had
travelled to Eucla from Fowler's Bay with the three horses that had died
on my journey to Beltana. He was very sorry to hear of the loss of
Chester and Formby, the latter having been his riding-horse. Old Jimmy
was immensely delighted to meet one of his own people in a strange
place. Tommy was a great acquisition to the party, he was a very nice
little chap, and soon became a general favourite.

<p>Everything being at length ready, the equipment of the expedition was
most excellent and capable. Sir Thomas had sent me from Adelaide several
large pairs of leather bags, one to be slung on each side of a camel;
all our minor, breakable, and perishable articles were thus secure from
wet or damp. In several of these large bags I had wooden boxes at the
bottom, so that all books, papers, instruments, glass, etc., were safe.
At starting the loads were rather heavy, the lightest-weighted camels
carrying two bags of flour, cased in raw-hide covers, the two bags
weighing about 450 pounds, and a large tarpaulin about 60 pounds on top,
or a couple of empty casks or other gear, which did not require to be
placed inside the leather bags. The way the camels' loads are placed by
the Afghan camel-men is different from, and at first surprising to
persons accustomed to, pack-horse loads. For instance, the two bags of
flour are carried as perpendicularly as possible. As a general rule, it
struck me the way they arranged the loads was absurd, as the whole
weight comes down on the unfortunate animal's loins; they use neither
bags nor trunks, but tie up almost every article with pieces of rope.

<p>My Afghan, Saleh, was horrified at the fearful innovations I made
upon his method. I furnished the leather bags with broad straps to
sustain them, having large rings and buckles to pass them through and
fasten in the ordinary way of buckle and strap; this had the effect of
making the loads in the bags and trunks lie as horizontally as possible
along the sides of the pads of the pack-saddles. Saleh still wanted to
encumber them with ropes, so that they could not be opened without
untying about a thousand knots. I would not permit such a violation of
my ideas, and told him the loads should be carried as they stood upon
the ground; his argument always was, a la Coogee Mahomet, &ldquo;Camel
he can't carry them that way,&rdquo; to which I invariably replied,
&ldquo;Camel he must and camel he shall,&rdquo; and the consequence was
that camel he did.

<p>When we left Port Augusta, I had fifteen pack- or baggage-camels and
seven riding ones. The two blacks, Jimmy and Tommy, rode on one animal,
while the others had a riding-camel each. The weight of the loads of the
baggage-camels on leaving, averaged 550 pounds all round. All the
equipment and loads being in a proper state, and all the men and camels
belonging to the new
expedition for Perth being ready, we left Port Augusta on the 23rd of
May, 1875, but only travelled about six miles, nearly west-north-west,
to a place called Bowman's or the Chinaman's Dam, where there was plenty
of surface water, and good bushes for the camels; here we encamped for
the night. A few ducks which incautiously floated too near fell victims
to our sportsmen. The following day we passed Mr. Bowman's station, had
some dinner with him, and got a fat sheep from one of his paddocks. On
the 25th we encamped close to a station in the neighbourhood of Euro
Bluff, a hill that exists near the south-western extremity of Lake
Torrens; we now travelled about north-north-west up Lake Torrens, upon
the opposite or western side to that on which we had lately travelled
down, to Port Augusta, as I wished to reach a watercourse (the
Elizabeth), where I heard there was water. On the 28th of May we
encamped on the banks of Pernatty Creek, where we obtained a few wild
ducks; the country here was very good, being open salt-bush country. The
next morning we met and passed a Government Survey party, under the
command of Mr. Brooks, who was engaged in a very extensive
trigonometrical survey. In an hour or two after, we passed Mr. Bowman's
Pernatty cattle-station; there was no one at home but a dog, and the
appearance of the camels seemed to strike him dumb. There were some nice
little sheets of water in the creek-bed, but scarcely large enough to be
permanent. The country was now a sort of stony plateau, having low,
flat-topped, tent-shaped table-lands occurring at intervals all over it;
it was quite open, and no timber existed except upon the banks of the
watercourses.

<p>On the 30th of May we reached the Elizabeth; there was an old hut or
two, but no people were now living there. The water was at a very low
ebb. We got a few ducks the first day we arrived. As some work had to be
done to the water-casks to enable us to carry them better, we remained
here until the 2nd of June. The Elizabeth comes from the table-lands
near the shores of Lake Torrens to the north-eastward and falls into the
northern end of Pernatty Lagoon. Here we were almost as far north as
when at Beltana, our latitude being 31&deg; 10&acute; 30&acute;&acute;.
The weather was now, and had been for several weeks&mdash;indeed ever
since the thunderstorm which occurred the day we came upon the
clay-channel water&mdash;very agreeable; the nights cold but dewless.
When at Port Augusta, I heard that a Mr. Moseley was out somewhere to
the west of the Elizabeth, well-sinking, on a piece of country he had
lately taken up, and that he was camped at or near some rain-water. I
was anxious to find out where he was; on the 31st of May I sent Alec
Ross on the only track that went west, to find if any water existed at a
place I had heard of about twenty-five miles to the west, and towards
which the only road from here led. Alec had not been gone long, when he
returned with Mr. Moseley, who happened to be coming to the Elizabeth en
route for Port Augusta. He camped with us that night. He informed me his
men obtained water at some clay-pans, called Coondambo, near the edge of
Lake Gairdner, another large salt depression similar to Lake Torrens,
and that by following his horses' tracks they would lead, first to a
well where he had just succeeded in obtaining water at a depth of
eighty-five feet, and thence, in seven miles farther, to the Coondambo
clay-pans. I was very glad to get this information, as even from
Coondambo the only water to the west beyond it, that I knew of, was
Wynbring, at a distance of 160 or 170 miles.

<p>Leaving the Elizabeth on June the 2nd, we went sixteen miles nearly
west, to a small clay water-hole, where we encamped. On the 3rd we
travelled twenty-five miles nearly west, passing a deserted
sheep-station belonging to Mr. Litchfield about the middle of the day;
the country was very poor, being open, bare, stony ground, with
occasional low, flat-topped table-lands, covered very sparsely with
salsolaceous vegetation. We next arrived at the north-east corner of
Lake Hart, and proceeded nearly west along its northern shore; thence by
the southern shores of Lakes Hanson and Younghusband, all salt lakes,
where one of the party must have been taken ill, for he suddenly broke
out into a doggerel rhyme, remarking that:&mdash;

<p class="poem">&ldquo;We went by Lake Hart, which is laid on the chart,
<br>And by the Lake Younghusband too; 
<br>We next got a glance on, the little Lake Hanson,
<br>And wished...&rdquo;

<p>Goodness only knows what he wished, but the others conveyed to him
their wish that he should discontinue such an infliction on them.

<p>On June the 6th we arrived at the place where Mr. Moseley had just
finished his well; but his men had deserted the spot and gone somewhere
else, to put down another shaft to the north-eastwards. The well was
between eighty and ninety feet deep, the water whitish but good; here we
encamped on a bushy sort of flat. The next morning, following some horse
tracks about south-west, they took us to the Coondambo clay-pans; the
water was yellow and very thick, but there was plenty of it for all our
purposes, though I imagined it would not last Mr. Moseley and his men
very long. Two or three of his horses were running at this water; here
were several large shallow, cane-grass clay flats which are also
occasionally filled with rain-water, they and Coondambo being situated
close to the northern shore of Lake Gairdner.

<p>We left Coondambo on the 8th; on the 9th rain pretended to fall, and
we were kept in camp during the day, as a slight spitting fell, but was
totally useless. On the 11th we encamped again near Lake Gairdner's
shore; this was the last we should see of it. Our latitude here was
31&deg; 5&acute;, and longitude 135&deg; 30&acute; 10&acute;&acute;. We
had seen no water since leaving Coondambo, from whence we carried a
quantity of the thick yellow fluid, which curdled disagreeably when made
into tea, the sugar having the chemical property of precipitating the
sediment. We were again in a scrubby region, and had been since leaving
Coondambo. Our course was now nearly north-north-west for sixteen or
seventeen miles, where we again camped in scrubs. The following day we
got to a low rocky hill, or rather several hills, enveloped in the
scrub; there were numerous small indentations upon the face of the
rocks, and we got some water for the camels, though they had to climb
all over the rocks to get it, as there was seldom more than three or
four gallons in any indent. We got some pure water for ourselves, and
were enabled to dispense with the yellow clayey fluid we had carried.
From these hills we travelled nearly west-north-west until, on the 15th,
we fell in with my former tracks in April, when travelling from
Wynbring. Old Jimmy was quite pleased to find himself again in country
which he knew something about. We could again see the summit of Mount
Finke. The only water I knew of in this wretched country being at
Wynbring, I determined to follow my old route. On the 16th we passed a
place where we had formerly seen a small portion of bare rock, and now,
in consequence of the late sprinkling showers on the 9th and 10th, there
were a few thimblefuls of water on it. This set Jimmy into a state of
excitement; he gesticulated and talked to Tommy in their language at a
great rate, and Tommy said, &ldquo;Ah, if you found water here, when you
come before, Chester and Formby wouldn't die.&rdquo; &ldquo;Well,&rdquo;
I said, &ldquo;Tommy, I don't see much water here to keep anything
alive, even if it had been here then.&rdquo; He only sapiently shook his
head and said, &ldquo;But if you got plenty water then that's all
right.&rdquo; I found Tommy's arguments were exactly similar to those of
all other black boys I have known, exceedingly comical, but all to their
own way of thinking.

<p>Soon after this, I was riding in advance along the old track, when
old Jimmy came running up behind my camel in a most excited state, and
said, &ldquo;Hi, master, me find 'im, big one watta, plenty watta, mucka
(not) pickaninny (little); this way, watta go this way,&rdquo; pointing
to a place on our left. I waited until the caravan appeared through the
scrub, then old Jimmy led us to the spot he had found. There was a small
area of bare rock, but it was too flat to hold any quantity of water,
though some of the fluid was shining on it; there was only enough for
two or three camels, but I decided to camp there nevertheless. What
water there was, some of the camels licked up in no time, and went off
to feed. They seemed particularly partial to a low pale-green-foliaged
tree with fringelike leaves, something like fennel or asparagus. I have
often gathered specimens of this in former journeys, generally in the
most desert places. The botanical name of this tree is Gyrostemon
ramulosus. After hobbling out the camels, and sitting down to dinner, we
became aware of the absence of Mr. Jess Young, and I was rather anxious
as to what had become of him, as a new arrival from England adrift in
these scrubs would be very liable to lose himself. However, I had not
much fear for Mr. Young, as, having been a sailor, and carrying a
compass, he might be able to recover us. Immediately after our meal I
was going after him, but before it was finished he came, without his
camel, and said he could not get her on, so had tied her up to a tree
and walked back, he having gone a long way on my old tracks. I sent
Tommy and another riding-camel with him, and in a couple of hours they
returned with Mr. Young's animal.

<p>The following morning, the 17th, much to my distress, one of our
young bull camels was found to be poisoned, and could not move. We made
him sick with hot butter and gave him a strong clyster. Both operations
produced the same substance, namely, a quantity of the chewed and
digested Gyrostemon; indeed, the animal apparently had nothing else in
his inside. He was a trifle better by night, but the following morning,
my best bull, Mustara, that had brought me through this region before,
was poisoned, and couldn't move. I was now very sorry I had camped at
this horrid place. We dosed Mustara with butter as an emetic, and he
also threw up nothing but the chewed Gyrostemon; the clyster produced
the same. It was evident that this plant has a very poisonous effect on
the camels, and I was afraid some of them would die. I was compelled to
remain here another day. The first camel poisoned had got a little
better, and I hoped the others would escape; but as they all seemed to
relish the poisonous plant so much until they felt the effects, and as
there were great quantities of it growing on the sandhills, I was in
great anxiety during the whole day. On the 19th I was glad to find no
fresh cases, though the two camels that had suffered were very weak and
afflicted with spasmodic staggerings. We got them away, though they were
scarcely able to carry their loads, which we lightened as much as
possible; anything was better than remaining here, as others might get
affected.

<p>On this day's march we passed the spot where I had put the horse's
packsaddle in the sandal-wood-tree, and where my first horse had given
in. The saddle was now of no use, except that the two pads, being
stuffed with horsehair, made cushions for seats of camels'
riding-saddles; these we took, but left the frame in the tree again.
That night we camped about five miles from Mount Finke, and I was glad
to find that the two poisoned bulls had greatly recovered.

<p>The following day, Mr. Young and I ascended Mount Finke, and put up a
small pile of stones upon its highest point. The weather, now cool and
agreeable, was so different from that which I had previously experienced
upon this dreadful mount. Upon that visit the whole region was in an
intense glow of heat, but now the summer heats were past; the desolate
region around was enjoying for a few weeks only, a slight respite from
the usual fiery temperature of the climate of this part of the world;
but even now the nature of the country was so terrible and severe, the
sandhills so high, and the scrub so thick, that all the new members of
the party expressed their astonishment at our ever having got out of it
alive. This mountain, as before stated, is forty-five miles from
Wynbring. On the 22nd of June, just as we got in sight of the rock, some
heavy showers of rain descended; it came down so fast that the camels
could drink the water right at their feet, and they all got huddled up
together in a mob, breaking their nose-ropes, some laying down to enable
them to drink easier, as loaded camels, having a breast-rope from the
saddles, cannot put their heads to the ground without hurting, and
perhaps cutting, themselves. The rain ceased for a bit, and we made off
to my old camp, and got everything under canvas just as another heavy
shower came down. Of course the rock-hole was full to overflowing, and
water was lying about in all directions. During the 23rd several smart
showers fell, and we were confined to our canvas habitations for nearly
the whole day.

<p>As this spot was so excellent for all kinds of animals, I gave my
friends a couple of days' rest, in the first place because they had had
such poor feeding places for several nights before our arrival here, and
I also wished, if possible, to meet again with the Wynbring natives, and
endeavour to find out from them whether any other waters existed in this
country. Old Jimmy, when he discovered, through Tommy Oldham, what I
wanted the natives for, seemed surprised and annoyed that I should
attempt to get information from them while he was with me in his own
territories. He said he would take me to several waters between here and
Youldeh, by a more northerly route than he had previously shown; he said
that water existed at several places which he enumerated on his fingers;
their names were Taloreh, Edoldeh, Cudyeh, Yanderby, Mobing, Bring,
Poothraba, Pondoothy, and Youldeh. I was very glad to hear of all these
places, and hoped we should find they were situated in a more hospitable
country than that through which we had formerly come. On the 25th Mr.
Young shot an emu, and we had fried steaks, which we all relished. Saleh
being a good Mussulman, was only just (if) in time to run up and cut the
bird's throat before it died, otherwise his religious scruples would
have prevented him from eating any of it. All the meat he did eat, which
was smoked beef, had been killed in the orthodox Mohammedan style,
either by himself or one of his co-religionists at Beltana. It was cured
and carried on purpose. None of the natives I had formerly seen, or any
others, made their appearance, and the party were disappointed by not
seeing the charming young Polly, my description of whom had greatly
raised their curiosity.

<h5><a name="i32">ILLUSTRATION 32</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t32.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>WYNBRING ROCK.</h5>

<p>On the 26th of June we departed from the pretty little oasis of
Wynbring, leaving its isolated and water-giving rock, in the silence and
solitude of its enveloping scrubs, abandoning it once again, to the
occupation of primeval man, a fertile little gem in a desolate waste,
where the footsteps of the white man had never been seen until I came,
where the wild emu, and the wilder black man, continually return to its
life-sustaining rock, where the aboriginal inhabitants will again and
again indulge in the wild revelries of the midnight corroborree dance,
and where, in an existence totally distinct from ours of civilisation,
men and women live and love, and eat and drink, and sleep and die. But
the passions are the same in all phases of the life of the human family,
the two great master motives, of love and hunger, being the mainspring
of all the actions of mankind.

<p>Wynbring was now behind us, and Jimmy once more our guide,
philosopher, and friend. He seemed much gratified at again becoming an
important member of the expedition, and he and Tommy, both upon the same
riding-camel, led the way for us, through the scrubs, in the direction
of about west-north-west. In seven or eight miles we came to a little
opening in the scrub, where Jimmy showed us some bare flat rocks,
wherein was a nearly circular hole brimful of water. It was, however,
nearly full also of the debris of ages, as a stick could be poked into
mud or dirt for several feet below the water, and it was impossible to
say what depth it really was; but at the best it could not contain more
than 200 or 300 gallons. This was Taloreh. Proceeding towards the next
watering-place, which old Jimmy said was close up, in a rather more
northerly direction, we found it was getting late, as we had not left
Wynbring until after midday; we therefore had to encamp in the scrubs,
having come about fifteen miles. It is next to impossible to make an old
fool of a black fellow understand the value of the economy of time. I
wanted to come on to Edoldeh, and so did old Jimmy; but he made out that
Edoldeh was close to Taloreh, and every mile we went it was still close
up, until it got so late I ordered the party to camp, where there was
little or nothing that the camels could eat. Of course it was useless to
try and make Jimmy understand that, having thousands of miles to travel
with the camels, it was a great object to me to endeavour to get them
bushes or other food that they could eat, so as to keep them in
condition to stand the long journey that was before them. Camels,
although exceedingly ravenous animals, will only eat what they like, and
if they can't get that, will lie down all night and starve, if they are
too short-hobbled to allow them to wander, otherwise they will ramble
for miles. It was therefore annoying the next morning to find plenty of
good bushes at Edoldeh, two miles and a half from our wretched camp, and
whither we might have come so easily the night before. To-day, however,
I determined to keep on until we actually did reach the next oasis; this
Jimmy said was Cudyeh, and was of course still close up. We travelled
two and a half miles to Edoldeh, continued eighteen miles beyond it, and
reached Cudyeh early in the afternoon. This place was like most of the
little oases in the desert; it was a very good place for a camp, one
singular feature about it being that it consisted of a flat bare rock of
some area, upon which were several circular and elliptical holes in
various places. The rock lay in the lowest part of the open hollow, and
whenever rain fell in the neighbourhood, the water all ran down to it.
In consequence of the recent rains, the whole area of rock was two feet
under water, and the extraordinary holes or wells that existed there
looked like antediluvian cisterns. Getting a long stick, and wading
through the water to the mouths of these cisterns, we found that, like
most other reservoirs in a neglected native state, they were almost full
of soil and debris, and the deepest had only about three feet of water
below the surface of the rock. Some of these holes might be very deep,
or they might be found to be permanent wells if cleaned out.

<p>Next day we passed another little spot called Yanderby, with rock
water, at ten miles; thence in three more we came to Mobing, a much
better place than any of the others: indeed I thought it superior to
Wynbring. It lies about north 62&deg; west from Wynbring and is fifty
miles from it; the latitude of Mobing is 30&deg; 10&acute;
30&acute;&acute;. At this place there was a large, bare, rounded rock,
very similar to Wynbring, except that no rock-holes to hold any surface
water existed; what was obtainable being in large native wells sunk at
the foot of the rock, and brimful of water. I believe a good supply
might be obtained here. There were plenty of good bushes in the
neighbourhood for the camels, and we had an excellent camp at Mobing. As
usual, this oasis consisted merely of an open space, lightly timbered
with the mulga acacia amongst the sandhills and the scrubs.

<p>The day after, we were led by old Jimmy to a small salt lake-bed
called Bring, which was dry; it lay about south-west from Mobing. Round
at the southern shore of this lake Jimmy showed us a small rock-hole,
with a few dozen gallons of water in it. In consequence of Mr. Young not
being well, we encamped, the distance from Mobing being nine miles. This
also was a rather pretty camp, and excellent for the camels. Towards
evening some light showers of rain fell, and we had to erect our
tarpaulins and tents, which we only do in times of rain. More showers
fell the next day, and we did not shift our quarters. A very shallow
sheet of water now appeared upon the surface of the lake bed, but it was
quite salt. We made some little dams with clay, where the water ran into
the lake, and saved enough water to indulge in a sort of bath with the
aid of buckets and waterproof sheeting. This was the last day of June.
Unfortunately, though Chairman of the Company, I was unable to declare a
dividend for the half-year.

<p>The 1st of July broke with a fine and beautiful morning, and we left
Lake Bring none the worse for our compulsory delay. I was anxious to
reach Youldeh so soon as possible, as I had a great deal of work to do
when I arrived there. To-day we travelled nearly west seventeen or
eighteen miles, and encamped without an oasis. On the 2nd we passed two
rocky hills, named respectively Pondoothy and Poothraba, Pondoothy was
an indented rock-crowned hill in the scrubs. Standing on its summit I
descried an extraordinary line cut through the scrubs, which ran east by
north, and was probably intended by the natives for a true east line.
The scrub timber was all cut away, and it looked like a survey line.
Upon asking old Jimmy what it was done for, and what it meant, he gave
the usual reply, that Cockata black fellow make 'em. It was somewhat
similar to the path I had seen cleared at Pylebung in March last, and no
doubt it is used for a similar purpose. Leaving this hill and passing
Poothraba, which is in sight of it, we continued our nearly west course,
and camped once more in the scrubs. The country was very difficult for
the loaded camels, it rose into such high ridges or hills of sand that
we could only traverse it at a snail's pace. It was of course still
covered with scrubs, which consisted here, as all over this region,
mostly of the Eucalyptus dumosa, or mallee-trees, of a very stunted
habit; occasionally some patches of black oaks as we call them, properly
casuarinas, with clumps of mulga in the hollows, here and there a
stunted cypress pine, callitris, some prickly hakea bushes, and an
occasional so called native poplar, Codonocarpus cotinifolius, a brother
or sister tree to the poisonous Gyrostemon. The native poplar is a
favourite and harmless food for camels, and as it is of the same family
as the Gyrostemon, my friend Baron von Mueller argues that I must be
mistaken in the poison plant which affected the camels. He thinks it
must be a plant of the poisonous family of the Euphorbiaceae, and which
certainly grows in these regions, and which I have collected specimens
of, but I cannot detect it.

<p>We were now nearly in the latitude of Youldeh, and had only to push
west to reach it; but the cow camel that Jimmy and Tommy rode, being
very near calving, had not travelled well for some days, and gave a good
deal of trouble to find her of a morning. I wished to get her to Youldeh
before she calved, as I intended to form a depot there for a few weeks,
during which time I hoped the calf would become strong enough to travel.
On the morning of the 5th, only about half the mob were brought up to
the camp, and, as Mr. Tietkens' and my riding camels were amongst them,
we rode off to Youldeh, seven or eight miles away, telling the others to
come on as soon as they could. Mr. Young, Saleh, and Tommy were away
after the absent animals. On arriving I found Youldeh much the same as
when I left it, only now the weather was cool, and the red sandhills,
that had formerly almost burnt the feet of men and animals, were
slightly encrusted with a light glittering mantle of hoar-frost in the
shaded places, under the big leguminous bushes, for that morning Herr
Gabriel Daniel Fahrenheit had fallen to 28&deg;. My old slabbed well had
got filled up with sand, and it was evident that many natives had
visited the place since I left on the 24th of March, 103 days ago. We
managed to water our camels, as they lay down on the top of the well,
and stretched their long necks down into it. We then quietly waited till
long past midday for the caravan to come up. We had nothing to do, and
nothing to eat; we could not dig out the well, for we had no shovel. At
last Mr. Tietkens got alarmed at the non-arrival of the party, and he
went back to the camp, taking my riding-camel with him, as she would not
remain quiet by herself. I remained there mighty hungry, and made some
black smoke to endeavour to attract any natives that might be in the
neighbourhood. I have before remarked that the natives can make
different coloured smokes, of different form, and make them ascend in
different ways, each having a separate meaning: hurried alarm, and
signal fires are made to throw up black and white smokes. No signals
were returned, and I sat upon a sandhill, like Patience on a monument,
and thought of the line, &ldquo;That sitting alone with my conscience,
is judgment sufficient for me.&rdquo; I could not perceive any dust or
sand of the approaching caravan; darkness began to creep over this
solitary place and its more solitary occupant. I thought I had better
sleep, though I had no bedding, to pass the time away till morning. I
coiled myself up under a bush and fell into one of those extraordinary
waking dreams which occasionally descend upon imaginative mortals, when
we know that we are alive, and yet we think we are dead; when a confused
jumble of ideas sets the mind &ldquo;peering back into the vistas of the
memories of yore,&rdquo; and yet also foreshadowing the images of future
things upon the quivering curtains of the mental eye. At such a time the
imagination can revel only in the marvellous, the mysterious, and the
mythical. The forms of those we love are idealised and spiritualised
into angelic shapes. The faces of those we have forgotten long, or else
perchance have lost, once more return, seraphic from the realms of
light. The lovely forms and winning graces of children gone, the
witching eyes and alluring smiles of women we have loved, the beautiful
countenances of beloved and admired youth, once more we seem to see; the
youthful hands we have clasped so often in love and friendship in our
own, once more we seem to press, unchanged by time, unchanged by fate,
beckoning to us lovingly to follow them, still trying with loving caress
and youthful smiles to lead us to their shadowy world beyond. O youth,
beautiful and undying, the sage's dream, the poet's song, all that is
loving and lovely, is centred still in thee! O lovely youth, with thine
arrowy form, and slender hands, thy pearly teeth, and saintly smile, thy
pleading eyes and radiant hair; all, all must worship thee. And if in
waking hours and daily toil we cannot always greet thee, yet in our
dreams you are our own. As the poet says:&mdash;

<p class="poem">&ldquo;In dreams you come as things of light and lightness!
<br>We hear your voice in still small accents tell,
<br>Of realms of bliss and never-fading brightness,
<br>Where those who loved on earth together dwell.&rdquo;

<p>Then, while lying asleep, engrossed by these mysterious influences
and impressions, I thought I heard celestial sounds upon mine ear;
vibrating music's rapturous strain, as though an heavenly choir were
near, dispensing melody and pain. As though some angels swept the
strings, of harps ethereal o'er me hung, and fann'd me, as with seraph's
wings, while thus the voices sweetly sung: &ldquo;Be bold of heart, be
strong of will, for unto thee by God is given, to roam the desert paths
of earth, and thence explore the fields of heaven. Be bold of heart, be
strong of will, and naught on earth shall lay thee low.&rdquo; When
suddenly I awoke, and found that the party with all the camels had
arrived, my fire was relit, and the whole place lately so silent was now
in a bustle. I got up, and looked about me in astonishment, as I could
not at first remember where I was. But I soon discovered that the
musical sounds I had heard were the tintinabulations of my camel-bells,
tinkling in the evening air, as they came closer and closer over the
sandhills to the place where I lay dreaming, and my senses returned at
length to their ordinary groove.

<p>We were safely landed at the Youldeh depot once more; and upon the
whole I may say we had had an agreeable journey from Port Augusta. Jimmy
and Tommy's cow calved soon after arrival. I was glad to find she had
delayed; now the calf will be allowed to live, as she will be here for
some little time. On the following morning I christened the calf
Youldeh, after her birthplace; she was not much bigger than a cat. On
the 6th, 7th, and 8th, we all remained in depot, doing various kinds of
work, re-digging and re-slabbing the well, making two large canvas
troughs for the camels to drink out of, making some covers and
alterations to some water-beds I had for carrying water, and many other
things. I had some camels to deliver at Fowler's Bay, and some private
business, necessary to be done before a magistrate, which compelled me
personally to return thither; otherwise I should have gone away to the
north to endeavour to discover another depot in that direction. But now
I committed this piece of work to my two officers, Messrs. Tietkens and
Young, while Alec Ross and I went south to the Bay. Both parties started
from Youldeh on the 9th. I took old Jimmy with me to return him, with
thanks, to his family. Tietkens and Young took Tommy with them, as that
young gentleman had no desire whatever to return or to leave me. Between
ourselves, when I first got him in February, I had caused him to commit
some very serious breaches of aboriginal law, for he was then on
probation and not allowed to come near women or the blacks' camp. He was
also compelled to wear a great chignon, which made him look more like a
girl than a boy. This I cut off and threw away, much to the horror of
the elders of his tribe, who, if they could catch, would inflict condign
punishment upon him. When he and old Jimmy met at Port Augusta, and
Jimmy saw him without his chignon and other emblems of novice-hood, that
old gentleman talked to him like a father; but Tommy, knowing he had me
to throw the blame on, quietly told the old man in plain English to go
to blazes. The expression on old Jimmy's face at thus being flouted by a
black boy, was indescribable; he thought it his duty to persecute Tommy
still farther, but now Tommy only laughed at him and said I made him do
it, so old Jimmy gave him up at last as a bad job. Poor old fellow, he
was always talking about his wife and children; I was to have Mary, and
Peter Nicholls Jinny. Alec, Jimmy, and I reached the bay on the 14th,
but at Colona, on the 12th, we heard there had been a sad epidemic
amongst the natives since I left, and poor old Jimmy had lost two of his
children, both Mary and Jinny. When he heard this, the poor old fellow
cried, and looked at me, as much as to say if I had not taken him away
he might have saved them. It was but poor consolation to tell him, what
he could not understand, that those whom the gods love die young. I
suffered another loss, as a bright little black boy called Fry, a great
favourite of mine, with splendid eyes and teeth, whom I had intended to
bring with me as a companion for Tommy, was also dead. I parted from old
Jimmy the best of friends, but he was like Rachael weeping for her
children, and would not be comforted. I gave him money and presents, and
dresses for his wife, and anything he asked for, but this was not very
much.

<p>Our stay at Fowler's Bay was not extended longer than I could help.
Mr. Armstrong, the manager, made me a present of a case of brandy, and
as I wanted to take some stores to Youldeh, he allowed me to take back
the camels I had brought him, and sent a man of his&mdash;Richard
Dorey&mdash;to accompany me to Youldeh, and there take delivery of them.

<p>On the 17th we left the bay, and the spindrift and the spray of the
Southern Ocean, with the glorious main expanding to the skies. We stayed
at Colona with Mr. Murray a couple of days, and finally left it on the
21st, arriving with Dorey and his black boy at Youldeh on the 25th.

<p>Tommy Oldham's father had also died of the epidemic at the bay.
Richard Dorey's black boy broke the news to him very gently, when Tommy
came up to me and said, &ldquo;Oh, Mr. Giles, my&rdquo;&mdash;adjective
[not] blooming&mdash;&ldquo;old father is dead too.&rdquo; I said,
&ldquo;Is that how you talk of your poor old father, Tommy, now that he
is dead?&rdquo; To this he replied, much in the same way as some
civilised sons may often have done, &ldquo;Well, I couldn't help
it!&rdquo;

<p>I have stated that when I went south with Alec Ross to Fowler's Bay I
despatched my two officers, Mr. Tietkens and Mr. Young, with my black
boy Tommy, to endeavour to discover a new depot to the north, at or as
near to the 29th parallel of latitude as possible. When I returned from
the bay they had returned a day or two before, having discovered at
different places two native wells, a small native dam, and some
clay-pans, each containing water. This was exceedingly good news, and I
wasted no time before I departed from Youldeh. I gave my letters to
Richard Dorey, who had accompanied me back from Fowler's Bay. I will
give my readers a condensation of Mr. Tietkens's report of his journey
with Mr. Young and Tommy.

<p>On leaving Youldeh, in latitude 30&deg; 24&acute; 10&acute;&acute;
and longitude 131&deg; 46&acute;&mdash;they took four camels, three to
ride and one to carry water, rations, blankets, etc.&mdash;they went
first to the small rock-hole I had visited with Mr. Murray and old
Jimmy, when here in the summer. This lay about north 74&deg; west, was
about fourteen miles distant, and called Paring. Tommy followed our old
horse-tracks, but on arrival found it dry. The following day they
travelled north, and passed through a country of heavy sandhills and
thick scrubs, having occasional open patches with limestone cropping
out, and camped at twenty-four miles. Continuing their journey the next
morning, they went over better and more open country, and made
twenty-four or -five miles of northing. Some more good country was seen
the following day, but no water, although they saw native tracks and
native huts. The next day they sighted two small flat-topped hills and
found a native well in their neighbourhood; this, however, did not
promise a very good supply of water. The views obtainable from the
little hills were not very inviting, as scrubs appeared to exist in
nearly every direction. This spot was eighty-two miles from Youldeh, and
lay nearly north 10&deg; west. They continued north for another
twenty-five miles, to latitude 28&deg; 52&acute; and longitude about
131&deg; 31&acute;, when they turned to the south-west for eighteen
miles, finding a small native dam with some water in it; then, turning
slightly to the north of west, they found some clay-pans with a little
more water. They now went forty-four miles nearly west from the little
dam, and, although the country seemed improving, they could discover no
more water. From their farthest westerly point in latitude 28&deg;
59&acute; they turned upon a bearing of south 55&deg; east direct for
the native well found near the little flat-topped hills before
mentioned. In their progress upon this line they entered, at forty-five
miles and straight before them, upon a small open flat space very well
grassed, and very pretty, and upon it they found another native well,
and saw some natives, with whom they held a sort of running
conversation. There were several wells, all containing water. Tommy
managed to elicit from the natives the name of the place, which they
said was Ooldabinna. This seemed a very fortunate discovery, as the
first well found near the flat tops was by no means a good one. Here
they encamped, being highly pleased with their successful journey. They
had now found a new depot, ninety-two miles, lying north 20&deg; west
from Youldeh. From hence they made a straight line back to the camp,
where they awaited my return from the bay.

<p>I was much pleased with their discovery, and on Tuesday, the 27th
July, having nineteen camels and provisions for eight months, and a
perfect equipment for carrying water, we left Youldeh. Richard Dorey,
with his camels and black boy, went away to the south. My caravan
departed in a long single string to the north, and Youldeh and the place
thereof knew us no more.

<hr>

<h4><a name="ch4.2">CHAPTER 4.2. FROM 27TH JULY TO 6TH OCTOBER, 1875.</a></h4>
<blockquote>
Ooldabinna depot.
Tietkens and Young go north.
I go west.
A salt expanse.
Dense scrubs.
Deposit two casks of water.
Silence and solitude.
Native footmarks.
A hollow.
Fine vegetation.
A native dam.
Anxiety.
A great plain.
A dry march.
Return to the depot.
Rain.
My officers' report.
Depart for the west.
Method of travelling.
Kill a camel.
Reach the dam.
Death or victory.
Leave the dam.
The hazard of the die.
Five days of scrubs.
Enter a plain.
A terrible journey.
Saleh prays for a rock-hole.
A dry basin at 242 miles.
Watering camels in the desert.
Seventeen days without water.
Saved.
Tommy finds a supply.
The Great Victoria Desert.
The Queen's Spring.
Farther still west.
</blockquote>
<p>On leaving Youldeh I had the choice of first visiting the native well
my two officers had found at the flat tops, eighty-two miles, or the
further one at Ooldabinna, which was ninety-two. I decided to go
straight for the latter. The weather was cool, and the camels could
easily go that distance without water. Their loads were heavy, averaging
now 550 pounds all round. The country all the way consisted first, of
very high and heavy sandhills, with mallee scrubs and thick spinifex,
with occasional grassy flats between, but at one place we actually
crossed a space of nearly ten miles of open, good grassy limestone
country. We travelled very slowly over this region. There was a little
plant, something like mignonette, which the camels were extremely fond
of; we met it first on the grassy ground just mentioned, and when we had
travelled from fifteen to eighteen miles and found some of it we camped.
It took us five days and a half to reach Ooldabinna, and by the time we
arrived there I had travelled 1010 miles from Beltana on all courses. I
found Ooldabinna to consist of a small, pretty, open space amongst the
scrubs; it was just dotted over with mulga-trees, and was no doubt a
very favourite resort of the native owners.

<p>On the flat there was a place where for untold ages the natives have
obtained their water supplies. There were several wells, but my
experience immediately informed me that they were simply rockholes
filled with soil from the periodical rain-waters over the little flat,
the holes lying in the lowest ground, and I perceived that the water
supply was very limited; fortunately, however, there was sufficient for
our immediate requirements. The camels were not apparently thirsty when
we arrived, but drank more the following day; this completely emptied
all the wells, and our supply then depended upon the soakage, which was
of such a small volume that I became greatly disenchanted with my new
home. There was plenty of the mignonette plant, and the camels did very
well; I wanted water here only for a month, but it seemed probable it
would not last a week. We deepened all the wells, and were most anxious
watchers of the fluid as it slowly percolated through the soil into the
bottom of each. After I had been here two days, and the water supply was
getting gradually but surely less, I naturally became most anxious to
discover more, either in a west or northerly direction; and I again sent
my two officers, Messrs. Tietkens and Young, to the north, to endeavour
to discover a supply in that direction, while I determined to go myself
to the west on a similar errand. I was desirous, as were they, that my
two officers should share the honour of completing a line of discovery
from Youldeh, northwards to the Everard and Musgrave Ranges, and thus
connect those considerable geographical features with the coast-line at
Fowler's Bay; and I promised them if they were fortunate and discovered
more water for a depot to the north, that they should finish their line,
whether I was successful to the west or not. This, ending at the
Musgrave Ranges would form in itself a very interesting expedition.
Those ranges lay nearly 200 miles to the north. As the Musgrave Range is
probably the highest in South Australia and a continuous chain with the
Everard Range, seventy or eighty miles this side of it, I had every
reason to expect that my officers would be successful in discovering a
fresh depot up in a northerly direction. Their present journey, however,
was only to find a new place to which we might remove, as the water
supply might cease at any moment, as at each succeeding day it became so
considerably less. Otherwise this was a most pleasant little oasis, with
such herbage for the camels that it enabled them to do with very little
water, after their first good skinful.

<p>We arrived here on Sunday, the 1st of August, and both parties left
again on the 4th. Mr. Tietkens and Mr. Young took only their own riding
and one baggage camel to carry water and other things; they had thirty
gallons of water and ten days' provisions, as I expected they would
easily discover water within less than 100 miles, when they would
immediately return, as it might be necessary for them to remove the
whole camp from this place. I trusted all this to them, requesting them,
however, to hold out here as long as possible, as, if I returned
unsuccessful from the west, my camels might be unable to go any farther.

<p>I was sure that the region to the west was not likely to prove a
Garden of Eden, and I thought it was not improbable that I might have to
go 200 miles before I found any water. If unsuccessful in that way I
should have precisely the same distance to come back again; therefore,
with the probabilities of such a journey before me, I determined to
carry out two casks of water to ninety or a hundred miles, send some of
the camels back from that point and push on with the remainder. I took
six excellent camels, three for riding and three for carrying
loads&mdash;two carrying thirty gallons of water each, and the third
provisions, rugs, gear, etc. I took Saleh, my only Afghan
camel-man&mdash;usually they are called camel-drivers, but that is a
misnomer, as all camels except riding ones must be led&mdash;and young
Alec Ross; Saleh was to return with the camels from the place at which I
should plant the casks, and Alec and I were to go on. The northern party
left on the same day, leaving Peter Nicholls, my cook, and Tommy the
black boy, to look after the camels and camp.

<h5><a name="i33">ILLUSTRATION 33</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t33.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>LITTLE SALT LAKE.</h5>

<p>I will first give an outline of my journey to the west. The country,
except in the immediate neighbourhood of the wells, was, as usual in
this region, all sandhills and scrub, although at eighteen miles,
steering west, I came upon the shores of a large salt depression, or
lake-bed, which had numerous sandhill islands scattered about it. It
appeared to extend to a considerable distance southerly. By digging we
easily obtained a quantity of water, but it was all pure brine and
utterly useless. After this we met lake-bed after lake-bed, all in a
region of dense scrubs and sandhills for sixty miles, some were small,
some large, though none of the size of the first one. At seventy-eight
miles from Ooldabinna, having come as near west as it is possible to
steer in such a country on a camel&mdash;of course I had a Gregory's
compass&mdash;we had met no signs of water fit for man or animal to
drink, though brine and bog existed in most of the lake-beds. The scrubs
were very thick, and were chiefly mallee, the Eucalyptus dumosa, of
course attended by its satellite spinifex. So dense indeed was the
growth of the scrubs, that Alec Ross declared, figuratively speaking,
&ldquo;you could not see your hand before you.&rdquo; We could seldom
get a view a hundred yards in extent, and we wandered on farther and
farther from the only place where we knew that water existed. At this
distance, on the shores of a salt-lake, there was really a very pretty
scene, though in such a frightful desert. A high, red earthy bank
fringed with feathery mulga and bushes to the brink, overlooking the
milk-white expanse of the lake, and all surrounded by a strip of open
ground with the scrubs standing sullenly back. The open ground looked
green, but not with fertility, for it was mostly composed of bushes of
the dull green, salty samphire. It was the weird, hideous, and
demoniacal beauty of absolute sterility that reigned here. From this
place I decided to send Saleh back with two camels, as this was the
middle of the fourth day. Saleh would have to camp by himself for at
least two nights before he could reach the depot, and the thought of
such a thing almost drove him distracted; I do not suppose he had ever
camped out by himself in his life previously. He devoutly desired to
continue on with us, but go he must, and go he did. We, however, carried
the two casks that one of his camels had brought until we encamped for
the fourth night, being now ninety miles from Ooldabinna.

<p>After Saleh left us we passed only one more salt lake, and then the
country became entirely be-decked with unbroken scrub, while spinifex
covered the whole ground. The scrubs consisted mostly of mallee, with
patches of thick mulga, casuarinas, sandal-wood, not the sweet-scented
sandal-wood of commerce, which inhabits the coast country of Western
Australia, and quandong trees, another species of the sandal-wood
family. Although this was in a cool time of the year&mdash;namely, near
the end of the winter&mdash;the heat in the day-time was considerable,
as the thermometer usually stood as high as 96&deg; in the shade, it was
necessary to completely shelter the casks from the sun; we therefore cut
and fixed over them a thick covering of boughs and leaves, which was
quite impervious to the solar ray, and if nothing disturbed them while
we were absent, I had no fear of injury to the casks or of much loss
from evaporation. No traces of any human inhabitants were seen, nor were
the usually ever-present, tracks of native game, or their canine enemy
the wild dingo, distinguishable upon the sands of this previously
untrodden wilderness. The silence and the solitude of this mighty waste
were appalling to the mind, and I almost regretted that I had sworn to
conquer it. The only sound the ear could catch, as hour after hour we
slowly glided on, was the passage of our noiseless treading and
spongy-footed &ldquo;ships&rdquo; as they forced their way through the
live and dead timber of the hideous scrubs. Thus we wandered on, farther
from our camp, farther from our casks, and farther from everything we
wished or required. A day and a half after Saleh left us, at our sixth
night's encampment, we had left Ooldabinna 140 miles behind. I did not
urge the camels to perform quick or extraordinary daily journeys, for
upon the continuance of their powers and strength our own lives
depended. When the camels got good bushes at night, they would fill
themselves well, then lie down for a sleep, and towards morning chew
their cud. When we found them contentedly doing so we knew they had had
good food. I asked Alec one morning, when he brought them to the camp,
if he had found them feeding; he replied, &ldquo;Oh, no, they were all
lying down chewing their <i>kid</i>.&rdquo; Whenever the camels looked
well after this we said, &ldquo;Oh, they are all right, they've been
chewing their &lsquo;kid.&rsquo;&rdquo;

<p>No water had yet been discovered, nor had any place where it could
lodge been seen, even if the latter rain itself descended upon us,
except indeed in the beds of the salt-lakes, where it would immediately
have been converted into brine. On the seventh day of our march we had
accomplished fifteen miles, when our attention was drawn to a plot of
burnt spinifex, surrounded by the recent foot-prints of natives. This
set us to scan the country in every direction where any view could be
obtained. Alec Ross climbed a tree, and by the aid of field-glasses
discovered the existence of a fall of country into a kind of hollow,
with an apparently broken piece of open grassy ground some distance to
the south-west. I determined to go to this spot, whatever might be the
result, and proceeded towards it; after travelling five miles, and
closely approaching it, I was disgusted to find that it was simply the
bed of a salt-lake, but as we saw numerous native foot-prints and the
tracks of emus, wild dogs, and other creatures, both going to and coming
from it, we went on until we reached its lonely shore. There was an open
space all round it, with here and there a few trees belonging to the
surrounding scrubs that had either advanced on to, or had not receded
from the open ground. The bed of the lake was white, salty-looking, and
dry; There was, however, very fine herbage round the shores and on the
open ground. There was plenty of the little purple pea-vetch, the
mignonette plant, and Clianthus Dampierii, or Sturt's desert-pea, and we
turned our four fine camels out to graze, or rather browse, upon
whatever they chose to select, while we looked about in search of the
water we felt sure must exist here.

<p>The day was warm for this time of year, the thermometer standing at
95&deg; in the shade. But before we went exploring for water we thought
it well to have some dinner. The most inviting looking spot was at the
opposite or southern end of the lake, which was oval-shaped; we had
first touched upon it at its northern end. Alec Ross walked over to
inspect that, and any other likely places, while I dug wells in the bed
of the lake. The soil was reasonably good and moist, and on tasting it I
could discover no taint of salt, nor had the surface the same sparkling
incrustation of saline particles that I had noticed upon all the other
lake-beds. At ten or eleven inches I reached the bedrock, and found the
soil rested upon a rotten kind of bluish-green slate, but no water in
the numerous holes I dug rewarded me, so I gave it up in despair and
returned to the camp to await Alec's report of his wanderings. On the
way I passed by some black oak-trees near the margin, and saw where the
natives had tapped the roots of most of them for water. This I took to
be a very poor sign of any other water existing here. I could see all
round the lake, and if Alec was unsuccessful there was no other place to
search. Alec was a long time away, and it was already late when he
returned, but on his arrival he rejoiced me with the intelligence that,
having fallen in with a lot of fresh native tracks, all trending round
to the spot that looked so well from this side, he had followed them,
and they led him to a small native clay-dam on a clay-pan containing a
supply of yellow water. This information was, however, qualified by the
remark that there was not enough water there for the whole of our mob of
camels, although there was plenty for our present number. We immediately
packed up and went over to our new-found treasure.

<p>This spot is 156 miles straight from our last watering-place at
Ooldabinna. I was very much pleased with our discovery, though the
quantity of water was very small, but having found some, we thought we
might find more in the neighbourhood. At that moment I believe if we had
had all our camels here they could all have had a good drink, but the
evaporation being so terribly rapid in this country, by the time I could
return to Ooldabinna and then get back here, the water would be gone and
the dam dry. &ldquo;Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof&rdquo;
is, however, a maxim that explorers must very often be contented to
abide by. Our camels got as much water as they chose to drink; they were
not very big animals, but I am sure 150 gallons was consumed amongst the
four. They were hobbled out in the excellent herbage, which was better
here than where we first outspanned them. There was splendid grass as
well as herbage, but camels seldom, if ever, touch it. The clianthus pea
and the vetch pea they ate ravenously, and when they can get those they
require very little water.

<p>No natives appeared to be now in the immediate neighbourhood. This
was a very pretty and charming little oasis-camp. We got a few
bronze-winged pigeons that came by mistake to water that night. The
following morning we found the camels had decamped, in consequence of
their having had long hobbles allowed them, as we did not suppose they
would ramble away from such splendid herbage and water. Alec went after
them very early, but had not returned by midday. During his absence I
was extremely anxious, for, if he should be unable to track, and should
return without them, our case would be almost hopeless. If camels are
determined to stampede and can get a good start, there is frequently no
overtaking them on foot. They are not like horses, which will return of
their own accord to water. Camels know their own powers and their own
independence of man, and I believe that a camel, if not in subjection,
might live for months without water, provided it could get succulent
food. How anxiously I listened as hour after hour I maundered about this
spot for the tinkling sound of the camels' bells! How often fancy will
deceive even the strongest minds! Twenty times during that morning I
could have sworn I heard the bells, and yet they were miles out of
earshot. When Alec and I and the camels were all here together I thought
this a very pretty place, but oh, how hideous did it appear while I was
here alone, with the harrowing thought of the camels being lost and Alec
returning without them. Death itself in any terrors clad would have been
a more welcome sight to me then and there, than Alec Ross without the
camels. But Alec Ross was a right smart chance of a young bushman, and I
knew that nothing would prevent him from getting the animals so long as
their hobbles held. If, however, they succeeded in breaking them, it
would be good-bye for ever. As they can go in their hobbles, unless
short, if they have a mind to stampede, as fast as a man can walk in
this region, and with a whole night's start with loose legs, pursuit
would be hopeless. But surely at last I hear the bells! Yes; but,
strange to say, I did not hear them until Alec and the camels actually
appeared through the edge of scrub. Alec said they had gone miles, and
were still pushing on in single file when he got up to them.

<p>Now that I had found this water I was undecided what to do. It would
be gone before I could return to it, and where I should find any more to
the west it was impossible to say; it might be 100, it might be 200, it
might even be 300 miles. God only knows where the waters are in such a
region as this. I hesitated for the rest of the day&mdash;whether to go
still farther west in search of water, or to return at once and risk the
bringing of the whole party here. Tietkens and Young, I reflected, have
found a new depot, and perhaps removed the whole party to it. Then,
again, they might not, but have had to retreat to Youldeh. Eventually I
decided to go on a few miles more to the west, in order to see whether
the character of the country was in any way altered before I returned to
the depot.

<p>We went about forty miles beyond the dam; the only alteration in the
country consisted of a return to the salt-lake system that had ceased
for so many miles prior to our reaching our little dam. At the furthest
point we reached, 195 miles from the depot; it was upon the shore of
another salt lake, no water of any kind was to be procured. The only
horizon to be seen was about fifteen miles away, and was simply the rim
of an undulation in the dreary scrubs covered with the usual
timber&mdash;that is to say, a mixture of the Eucalyptus dumosa or
mallee, casuarinas or black oaks, a few Grevilleas, hakea bushes, with
leguminous trees and shrubs, such as mulga, and a kind of harsh-, silver
wattle, looking bush. On the latter order of these trees and plants the
camels find their sustenance. Two stunted specimens of the native
orange-tree or capparis were seen where I had left the two casks. From
my furthest point west, in latitude 29&deg; 15&acute; and longitude
128&deg; 3&acute; 30&acute;&acute;, I returned to the dam and found that
even during my short absence of only three and a half days the
diminution of the volume of water in it was amazing, and I was perfectly
staggered at the decrease, which was at the rate of more than an inch
per day. The dimensions of this singular little dam were very small: the
depth was its most satisfactory feature. It was, as all native watering
places are, funnel-shaped, and to the bottom of the funnel I could poke
a stick about three feet, but a good deal of that depth was mud; the
surface was not more than eight feet long, by three feet wide, its shape
was elliptical; it was not full when we first saw it, having shrunk at
least three feet from its highest water-mark. I now decided to return by
a new and more southerly route to the depot, hoping to find some other
waters on the way. At this dam we were 160 miles from Eucla Harbour,
which I visited last February with my black boy Tommy and the three
horses lost in pushing from Wynbring to the Finniss. North from Eucla,
running inland, is a great plain. I now wished to determine how far
north this plain actually extended. I was here in scrubs to the north of
it. The last night we camped at the dam was exceedingly cold, the
thermometer falling to 26&deg; on the morning of the 16th of August, the
day we left. I steered south-east, and we came out of the scrubs, which
had been thinning, on to the great plain, in forty-nine or fifty miles.
Changing my course here to east, we skirted along the edge of the plain
for twenty-five miles. It was beautifully grassed, and had cotton and
salt-bush on it: also some little clover hollows, in which rainwater
lodges after a fall, but I saw none of any great capacity, and none that
held any water. It was splendid country for the camels to travel over;
no spinifex, no impediments for their feet, and no timber. A bicycle
could be ridden, I believe, over the whole extent of this plain, which
must be 500 or 600 miles long by nearly 200 miles broad, it being known
as the Hampton plains in Western Australia, and ending, so to say, near
Youldeh. Having determined where the plain extends at this part of it, I
now changed my course to east north-east for 106 miles, through the
usual sandhill scrubs and spinifex region, until we reached the track of
the caravan from Youldeh, having been turned out of our straight course
by a large salt lake, which most probably is the southern end of the one
we met first, at eighteen miles west from Ooldabinna. By the tracks I
could see that the party had not retreated to Youldeh, which was so far
re-assuring. On the 22nd of August we camped on the main line of tracks,
fifteen miles from home, when, soon after we started, it became very
cloudy, and threatened to rain. The weather for the last six days has
been very oppressive, the thermometer standing at 92 to 94&deg;, every
day when we outspanned, usually from eleven to half-past twelve, the
hottest time of the day not having then been reached. As we approached
the depot, some slight sprinklings of rain fell, and as we drew nearer
and nearer, our anxiety to ascertain whether our comrades were yet there
increased; also whether our camels, which had now come 196 miles from
the dam, could get any water, for we had found none whatever on our
return route. On mounting the last sandhill which shut out the view, we
were pleased to see the flutterings of the canvas habitations in the
hollow below, and soon after we were welcomed by our friends. Saleh had
returned by himself all right, and I think much to his surprise had not
been either killed, eaten, or lost in the bush. I was indeed glad to
find the party still there, as I had great doubts whether they could
hold out until my return. They were there, and that was about all, for
the water in all the wells was barely sufficient to give our four camels
a drink; there remained only a bucket or two of slush rather than water
in the whole camp. It appeared, however, as though fortune were about to
favour us, for the light droppings of rain continued, and before night
we were compelled to seek the shelter of our tents. I was indeed
thankful to Heaven for paying even a part of so longstanding a debt,
although it owes me a good many showers yet; but being a patient
creditor, I will wait. We were so anxious about the water that we were
continually stirring out of the tents to see how the wells looked, and
whether any water had yet ran into them, a slight trickling at length
began to run into the best-catching of our wells, and although the rain
did not continue long or fall heavily, yet a sufficiency drained into
the receptacle to enable us to fill up all our water-holding vessels the
next morning, and give a thorough good drink to all our camels. I will
now give an account of how my two officers fared on their journey in
search of a depot to the north.

<p>Their first point was to the little native dam they had seen prior to
the discovery of this place, and there they encamped the first night,
ten miles from hence on a bearing of north 9&deg; east. Leaving the dam,
they went north for twenty-five miles over high sandhills and through
scrubs, when they saw some fresh native tracks, and found a small and
poor native well, in which there was only a bucketful or two of water.
They continued their northern course for twenty-five miles farther, when
they reached a hollow with natives' foot-marks all over it, and some
diamond sparrows, Amadina of Gould. Again they were unsuccessful in all
their searches for water. Going farther north for fifteen miles, they
observed some smoke to the north-east, and reached the place in six or
seven miles. Here they found and surprised a large family of natives,
who had apparently only recently arrived. A wide and deep hollow or
valley existed among high sandhill country, timbered mostly with a
eucalyptus, which is simply a gigantic species of mallee, but as it
grows singly, it resembles gum-trees. Having descended into this hollow,
a mile and a half wide, they saw the natives, and were in hopes of
obtaining some information from them, but unfortunately the whole mob
decamped, uttering loud and prolonged cries. Following this valley still
northwards they reached its head in about six miles, but could discover
no place where the natives obtained their supplies of water. At this
point they were travelling over burnt scrubby sandhill country still
north, when the natives who had appeared so shy came running after them
in a threatening manner, howling at them, and annoying them in every
possible way. These people, who had now arrayed themselves in their
war-paint, and had all their fighting weapons in hand, evidently meant
mischief; but my officers managed to get away from them without coming
to a hostile encounter. They endeavoured to parley with the natives and
stopped for that purpose, but could gain no information whatever as to
the waters in their territories. Four miles north were then travelled,
over burnt country, and having failed in discovering any places or even
signs, otherwise than the presence of black men, of places where water
could be obtained, and being anxious about the state of the water supply
at the depot, as I had advised them not to remain too long away from
this point, whose position is in latitude 27&deg; 48&acute; and
longitude 131&deg; 19&acute;, they returned. The Musgrave Range, they
said, was not more than 100 miles to the north of them, but they had not
sighted it. They were greatly disappointed at their want of success, and
returned by a slightly different route, searching in every
likely-looking place for water, but finding none, though they are both
of opinion that the country is watered by native wells, and had they had
sufficient time to have more thoroughly investigated it, they would
doubtless have been more successful. The Everard Range being about sixty
miles south from the Musgrave chain, and they not having sighted it, I
can scarcely think they could have been within 100 miles of the
Musgrave, as from high sandhills that high feature should be visible at
that distance.

<p>When Alec Ross and I returned from the west the others had been back
some days, and were most anxious to hear how we had got on out west.

<p>The usual anxiety at the camp was the question of water supply; I had
found so little where I had been, and the water here was failing rapidly
every day. Had it not been for last night's rain, we should be in a
great difficulty this morning. Now, however, we had got our supply
replenished by the light rain, and for the moment all was well; but it
did not follow that because it rained here it must also rain at the
little dam 160 miles away. Yet I decided to take the whole party to it,
and as, by the blessing of Providence, we now had sufficient water for
the purpose, to carry as much as we possibly could, so that if no rain
had fallen at the dam when we arrived there, we should give the camels
what water they carried and keep pushing on west, and trust to fate, or
fortune, or chance, or Providence, or whatever it might be, that would
bring us to water beyond. On the 24th August, having filled up
everything that could hold a drop of water, we departed from this little
isolated spot, having certainly 160 miles of desert without water to
traverse, and perhaps none to be found at the end. Now, having
everything ready, and watered our camels, we folded our tents like the
Arabs, and as silently stole away. In consequence of having to carry so
much water, our loads upon leaving Ooldabinna were enormously heavy, and
the weather became annoyingly hot just as we began our journey. The four
camels which Alec Ross and I had out with us looked wretched objects
beside their more fortunate companions that had been resting at
Ooldabinna, and were now in excellent condition; our unfortunates, on
the contrary, had been travelling for seventeen days at the rate of
twenty-three miles per day, with only one drink of water in the
interval. These four were certainly excellent animals. Alec rode my
little riding cow Reechy. I had a splendid gelding, which I named the
Pearl Beyond all Price, though he was only called the Pearl. He was a
beautiful white camel. Another cow I called the Wild Gazelle, and we had
a young bull that afterwards became Mr. Tietkens's riding camel. It is
unnecessary to record each day's proceedings through these wretched
scrubs, as the record of &ldquo;each dreary to-morrow but repeats the
dull tale of to-day.&rdquo; But I may here remark that camels have a
great advantage over horses in these dense wildernesses, for the former
are so tall that their loads are mostly raised into the less resisting
upper branches of the low trees of which these scrubs are usually
composed, whereas the horses' loads being so much nearer the ground have
to be dragged through the stouter and stronger lower limbs of the trees.
Again, camels travel in one long single file, and where the leading
camel forces his way the others all follow. It is of great importance to
have some good leading camels. My arrangement for traversing these
scrubs was as follows:&mdash;Saleh on his riding gelding, the most
lion-hearted creature in the whole mob, although Saleh was always
beating or swearing at him in Hindostanee, led the whole caravan, which
was divided into three separate lots; at every sixth there was a break,
and one of the party rode ahead of the next six, and so on. The method
of leading was, when the scrubs permitted, the steersman would ride; if
they were too thick for correct steering, he would walk; then a man
riding or leading a riding camel to guide Saleh, who led the baggage
mob. Four of us used to steer. I had taught Alec Ross, and we took an
hour about, at a time. Immediately behind Saleh came three bull camels
loaded with casks of water, each cask holding twenty gallons. These used
to crash and smash down and through the branches, so that the passage
was much clearer after them. All the rest of the equipment, including
water-beds, boxes, etc., was encased in huge leather bags, except one
cow's load; this, with the bags of flour on two other camels, was
enveloped in green hide. The fortunate rider at the extreme end had a
somewhat open groove to ride in. This last place was the privilege of
the steersman when his hour of agony was up. After the caravan had
forced its way through this forest primeval, there was generally left an
open serpentine line about six feet above the ground, through the trees,
and when a person was on this line they could see that something unusual
must have passed through. On the ground was a narrower line about two
feet wide, and sometimes as much as a foot deep, where one animal after
another had stepped. In my former journals I mentioned that the spinifex
wounded the horses' feet, and disfigured their coronets, it also used to
take a good deal of hair off some of the horses' legs; but in the case
of the camels, although it did not seem to excoriate them, it took every
hair off their legs up to three feet from the ground, and their limbs
turned black, and were as bright and shiny as a newly polished boot. The
camels' hair was much finer than that of the horses', but their skin was
much thicker, and while the horses' legs were punctured and suppurating,
the camels' were all as hard as steel and bright as bayonets.

<p>What breakfast we had was always taken very early, before it was
light enough to track the camels; then, while some of the party went
after them, the others' duty was to have all the saddles and packs ready
for instant loading. Our shortest record of leaving a camp (On a piece
of open ground.) was half an hour from the instant the first camel was
caught, but it usually took the best part of an hour before a clearance
could be effected. Upon leaving Ooldabinna we had our westerly tracks to
follow; this made the road easier. At the ninety-mile place, where I
left the two water casks, we were glad to find them all safe, and in
consequence of the shade we had put over them, there had been no loss of
water from evaporation. On the sixth night from Ooldabinna we were well
on our way towards the little dam, having come 120 miles. The heat had
been very oppressive. At dusk of that day some clouds obscured the sky,
and light rain fell, continuing nearly all night. On the seventh day,
the 30th of August, there was every appearance of wet setting in. I was
very thankful, for now I felt sure we should find more water in the
little dam than when I left it. We quietly ensconced ourselves under our
tents in the midst of the scrubs, and might be said to have enjoyed a
holiday as a respite and repose, in contrast to our usual perpetual
motion. The ground was far too porous to hold any surface water, and had
our camels wanted it never so much, it could only be caught upon some
outspread tarpaulins; but what with the descending moisture, the water
we carried and the rain we caught, we could now give them as much as
they liked to drink, and I now felt sure of getting more when we arrived
at the little dam. During the night of the 29th one of our best
cow-camels calved. Unfortunately the animal strained herself so severely
in one of her hips, or other part of her hind legs, that she could not
rise from the ground. She seemed also paralysed with cold. Her little
mite of a calf had to be killed. We milked the mother as well as we
could while she was lying down, and we fed and watered her&mdash;at
least we offered her food and water, but she was in too great pain to
eat. Camel calves are, in proportion to their mothers, the most
diminutive but pretty little objects imaginable. I delayed here an
additional day on the poor creature's account, but all our efforts to
raise her proved unsuccessful. I could not leave the poor dumb brute on
the ground to die by inches slowly, by famine, and alone, so I in mercy
shot her just before we left the place, and left her dead alongside the
progeny that she had brought to life in such a wilderness, only at the
expense of her own. She had been Mr. Tietkens's hack, and one of our
best riding camels. We had now little over forty miles to go to reach
the dam, and as all our water had been consumed, and the vessels were
empty, the loads now were light enough. On the 3rd of September we
arrived, and were delighted to find that not only had the dam been
replenished, but it was full to overflowing. A little water was actually
visible in the lake-bed alongside of it, at the southern end, but it was
unfit for drinking.

<p>The little reservoir had now six feet of water in it; there was
sufficient for all my expected requirements. The camels could drink at
their ease and pleasure. The herbage and grass was more green and
luxuriant than ever, and to my eyes it now appeared a far more pretty
scene. There were the magenta-coloured vetch, the scarlet desert-pea,
and numerous other leguminous plants, bushes, and trees, of which the
camels are so fond. Mr. Young informed me that he had seen two or three
natives from the spot at which we pitched our tents, but I saw none, and
they never returned while we were in occupation of their property. This
would be considered a pretty spot anywhere, but coming suddenly on it
from the dull and sombre scrubs, the contrast makes it additionally
striking. In the background to the south were some high red sandhills,
on which grew some scattered casuarina of the black oak kind, which is a
different variety from, and not so elegant or shady a tree as, the finer
desert oak, which usually grows in more open regions. I have not as yet
seen any of them on this expedition. All round the lake is a green and
open space with scrubs standing back, and the white lake-bed in the
centre. The little dam was situated on a piece of clay ground where
rain-water from the foot of some of the sandhills could run into the
lake; and here the natives had made a clumsy and (ab)original attempt at
storing the water, having dug out the tank in the wrong place, at least
not in the best position for catching the rain-water. I felt sure there
was to be a waterless track beyond, so I stayed at this agreeable place
for a week, in order to recruit the camels, and more particularly to
enable another cow to calve. During this interval of repose we had
continued oppressive weather, the thermometer standing from 92 and 94 to
96&deg; every afternoon, but the nights were agreeably cool, if not
cold. We had generally very cloudy mornings; the flies were particularly
numerous and troublesome, and I became convinced that any further travel
to the west would have to be carried on under very unfavourable
circumstances. This little dam was situated in latitude 29&deg;
19&acute; 4&acute;&acute;, and longitude 128&deg; 38&acute;
16&acute;&acute;, showing that we had crossed the boundary line between
the two colonies of South and Western Australia, the 129th meridian. I
therefore called this the Boundary Dam. It must be recollected that we
are and have been for 7 1/2&deg; of longitude&mdash;that is to say, for
450 miles of westing, and 130 miles of northing&mdash;occupying the
intervening period between the 9th of June, to the 3rd of September,
entirely enveloped in dense scrubs, and I may say that very few if any
explorers have ever before had such a region to traverse. I had managed
to penetrate this country up to the present point, and it was not to be
wondered at if we all ardently longed for a change. Even a bare,
boundless expanse of desert sand would be welcomed as an alternative to
the dark and dreary scrubs that surrounded us. However, it appeared
evident to me, as I had traversed nothing but scrubs for hundreds of
miles from the east, and had found no water of any size whatever in all
the distance I had yet come, that no waters really existed in this
country, except an occasional native well or native dam, and those only
at considerable distances apart. Concluding this to be the case, and my
object being that the expedition should reach the city of Perth, I
decided there was only one way to accomplish this&mdash;namely, to go
thither, at any risk, and trust to Providence for an occasional supply
of water here and there in the intermediate distance. I desired to make
for a hill or mountain called Mount Churchman by Augustus Churchman
Gregory in 1846. I had no written record of water existing there, but my
chart showed that Mount Churchman had been visited by two or three other
travellers since that date, and it was presumable that water did
permanently exist there. The hill was, however, distant from this dam
considerably over 600 miles in a straight line, and too far away for it
to be possible we could reach it unless we should discover some new
watering places between. I was able to carry a good supply of water in
casks, water-beds and bags; and to enable me to carry this I had done
away with various articles, and made the loads as light as possible; but
it was merely lightening them of one commodity to load them with a
corresponding weight of water. At the end of a week I was tired of the
listless life at the camp. The cow camel had not calved, and showed no
greater disposition to do so now than when we arrived, so I determined
to delay no longer on her account. The animals had done remarkably well
here, as the feed was so excellent. The water that had been lying in the
bed of the lake when we arrived had now dried up, and the quantity taken
by ourselves and the camels from the little dam was telling very
considerably upon its store&mdash;a plain intimation to us that it would
soon become exhausted, and that for the sustenance of life more must be
procured. Where the next favoured spot would be found, who could tell?
The last water we had met was over 150 miles away; the next might be
double that distance. Having considered all these matters, I informed my
officers and men that I had determined to push westward, without a
thought of retreat, no matter what the result might be; that it was a
matter of life or death for us; we must push through or die in the
scrubs. I added that if any more than one of the party desired to
retreat, I would provide them with rations and camels, when they could
either return to Fowler's Bay by the way we had come, or descend to
Eucla Station on the coast, which lay south nearly 170 miles distant.

<p>I represented that we were probably in the worst desert upon the face
of the earth, but that fact should give us all the more pleasure in
conquering it. We were surrounded on all sides by dense scrubs, and the
sooner we forced our way out of them the better. It was of course a
desperate thing to do, and I believe very few people would or could rush
madly into a totally unknown wilderness, where the nearest known water
was 650 miles away. But I had sworn to go to Perth or die in the
attempt, and I inspired the whole of my party with my own enthusiasm.
One and all declared that they would live or die with me. The natives
belonging to this place had never come near us, therefore we could get
no information concerning any other waters in this region. Owing to the
difficulty of holding conversation with wild tribes, it is highly
probable that if we had met them we should have got no information of
value from them. When wild natives can be induced to approach and speak
to the first travellers who trespass on their domains, they simply
repeat, as well as they can, every word and action of the whites; this
becomes so annoying that it is better to be without them. When they get
to be more intimate and less nervous they also generally become more
familiar, and want to see if white people are white all over, and to
satisfy their curiosity in many ways. This region evidently does not
support a very numerous tribe, and there is not much game in it. I have
never visited any part of Australia so devoid of animal life.

<p>On the 10th of September everything was ready, and I departed,
declaring that:&mdash;

<p class="poem">&ldquo;Though the scrubs may range around me,
<br>My camel shall bear me on; 
<br>Though the desert may surround me,
<br>It hath springs that shall be won.&rdquo;

<p>Mounting my little fairy camel Reechy, I &ldquo;whispered to her
westward, westward, and with speed she darted onward.&rdquo; The morning
was cloudy and cool, and I anticipated a change from the quite
sufficiently hot weather we had lately had, although I did not expect
rain. We had no notion of how far we might have to go, or how many days
might elapse before we came to any other water, but we left our friendly
little dam in high hopes and excellent spirits, hoping to discover not
only water, but some more agreeable geographical features than we had as
yet encountered. I had set my own and all my companions' lives upon a
cast, and will stand the hazard of the die, and I may add that each one
displayed at starting into the new unknown, the greatest desire and
eagerness for our attempt. On leaving the depot I had determined to
travel on a course that would enable me to reach the 30th parallel of
latitude at about its intersection with the 125th meridian of longitude;
for I thought it probable the scrubs might terminate sooner in that
direction than in one more northerly. Our course was therefore on a
bearing of south 76&deg; west; this left the line of salt lakes Alec
Ross and I had formerly visited, and which lay west, on our right or
northwards of us. Immediately after the start we entered thick scrubs as
usual; they were mostly composed of the black oak, casuarina, with mulga
and sandal-wood, not of commerce. We passed by the edge of two small
salt depressions at six and nine miles; at ten miles we were overtaken
by a shower of rain, and at eleven miles, as it was still raining
slightly, we encamped on the edge of another lake. During the evening we
saved sufficient water by means of our tarpaulins for all our own
requirements. During the night it also rained at intervals, and we
collected a lot of water and put it into a large canvas trough used for
watering the camels when they cannot reach the water themselves. I
carried two of these troughs, which held sufficient water for them all
when at a watered camp, but not immediately after a dry stage; then they
required to be filled three or four times. On the following morning,
however, as we had but just left the depot, the camels would not drink,
and as all our vessels were full, the water in the trough had to be
poured out upon the ground as a libation to the Fates. In consequence of
having to dry a number of things, we did not get away until past midday,
and at eleven miles upon our course, after passing two small salt
lagoons, we came upon a much larger one, where there was good herbage.
This we took advantage of, and encamped there. Camels will not eat
anything from which they cannot extract moisture, by which process they
are enabled to go so long without water. The recent rain had left some
sheets of water in the lake-bed at various places, but they were all as
salt as brine&mdash;in fact brine itself.

<p>The country we passed through to-day was entirely scrubs, except
where the salt basins intervened, and nothing but scrubs could be seen
ahead, or indeed in any other direction. The latitude of the camp on
this lake was 29&deg; 24&acute; 8&acute;&acute;, and it was twenty-two
miles from the dam. We continued our march and proceeded still upon the
same course, still under our usual routine of steering. By the fifth
night of our travels we had met no water or any places that could hold
it, and apparently we had left all the salt basins behind. Up to this
point we had been continually in dense scrubs, but here the country
became a little more open; myal timber, acacia, generally took the
places of the mallee and the casuarinas; the spinifex disappeared, and
real grass grew in its place. I was in hopes of finding water if we
should debouch upon a plain, or perhaps discover some ranges or hills
which the scrubs might have hidden from us. On the sixth day of our
march we entered fairly on a plain, the country being very well grassed.
It also had several kinds of salsolaceous bushes upon it; these furnish
excellent fodder plants for all herbivorous animals. Although the soil
was not very good, being sand mixed with clay, it was a very hard and
good travelling country; the camels' feet left scarcely any impression
on it, and only by the flattened grass and crushed plants trodden to
earth by our heavy-weighing ships, could our trail now be followed. The
plain appeared to extend a great distance all around us. A solemn
stillness pervaded the atmosphere; nobody spoke much above a whisper.
Once we saw some wild turkey bustards, and Mr. Young managed to wing one
of them on the seventh day from the dam. On the seventh night the cow,
for which we had delayed there, calved, but her bull-calf had to be
destroyed, as we could not delay for it on the march. The old cow was in
very good condition, went off her milk in a day or two, and continued on
the journey as though nothing had occurred. On the eighth we had cold
fowl for breakfast, with a modicum of water. On the ninth and tenth days
of our march the plains continued, and I began to think we were more
liable to die for want of water on them than in the dense and hideous
scrubs we had been so anxious to leave behind. Although the region now
was all a plain, no views of any extent could be obtained, as the
country still rolled on in endless undulations at various distances
apart, just as in the scrubs. It was evident that the regions we were
traversing were utterly waterless, and in all the distance we had come
in ten days, no spot had been found where water could lodge. It was
totally uninhabited by either man or animal, not a track of a single
marsupial, emu, or wild dog was to be seen, and we seemed to have
penetrated into a region utterly unknown to man, and as utterly forsaken
by God. We had now come 190 miles from water, and our prospects of
obtaining any appeared more and more hopeless. Vainly indeed it seemed
that I might say&mdash;with the mariner on the ocean&mdash;&ldquo;Full
many a green spot needs must be in this wide waste of misery, Or the
traveller worn and wan never thus could voyage on.&rdquo; But where was
the oasis for us? Where the bright region of rest? And now, when days
had many of them passed away, and no places had been met where water
was, the party presented a sad and solemn procession, as though each and
all of us was stalking slowly onward to his tomb. Some murmurs of regret
reached my ears; but I was prepared for more than that. Whenever we
camped, Saleh would stand before me, gaze fixedly into my face and
generally say: &ldquo;Mister Gile, when you get water?&rdquo; I
pretended to laugh at the idea, and say. &ldquo;Water? pooh! There's no
water in this country, Saleh. I didn't come here to find water, I came
here to die, and you said you'd come and die too.&rdquo; Then he would
ponder awhile, and say: &ldquo;I think some camel he die to-morrow, Mr.
Gile&rdquo; I would say: &ldquo;No, Saleh, they can't possibly live till
to-morrow, I think they will all die to-night.&rdquo; Then he:
&ldquo;Oh, Mr. Gile, I think we all die soon now.&rdquo; Then I:
&ldquo;Oh yes, Saleh, we'll all be dead in a day or two.&rdquo; When he
found he couldn't get any satisfaction out of me he would begin to pray,
and ask me which was the east. I would point south: down he would go on
his knees, and abase himself in the sand, keeping his head in it for
some time. Afterwards he would have a smoke, and I would ask:
&ldquo;What's the matter, Saleh? what have you been doing?&rdquo;
&ldquo;Ah, Mr. Gile,&rdquo; was his answer, &ldquo;I been pray to my God
to give you a rock-hole to-morrow.&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;Why, Saleh, if
the rock-hole isn't there already there won't be time for your God to
make it; besides, if you can get what you want by praying for it, let me
have a fresh-water lake, or a running river, that will take us right
away to Perth. What's the use of a paltry rock-hole?&rdquo; Then he said
solemnly, &ldquo;Ah, Mr. Gile, you not religious.&rdquo;

<p>On the eleventh day the plains died off, and we re-entered a new bed
of scrubs&mdash;again consisting of mallee, casuarinas, desert
sandal-wood, and quandong-trees of the same family; the ground was
overgrown with spinifex. By the night of the twelfth day from the dam,
having daily increased our rate of progress, we had traversed scrubs
more undulating than previously, consisting of the usual kinds of trees.
At sundown we descended into a hollow; I thought this would prove the
bed of another salt lake, but I found it to be a rain-water basin or
very large clay-pan, and although there were signs of the former
presence of natives, the whole basin, grass, and herbage about it, were
as dry as the desert around. Having found a place where water could
lodge, I was certainly disappointed at finding none in it, as this
showed that no rain whatever had fallen here, where it might have
remained, when we had good but useless showers immediately upon leaving
the dam. From the appearance of the vegetation no rains could possibly
have visited this spot for many months, if not years. The grass was
white and dry, and ready to blow away with any wind.

<p>We had now travelled 242 miles from the little dam, and I thought it
advisable here to give our lion-hearted camels a day's respite, and to
apportion out to them the water that some of them had carried for that
purpose. By the time we reached this distance from the last water,
although no one had openly uttered the word retreat, all knowing it
would be useless, still I was not unassailed by croakings of some of the
ravens of the party, who advised me, for the sake of saving our own and
some of the camels' lives, to sacrifice a certain number of the worst,
and not give these unfortunates any water at all. But I represented that
it would be cruel, wrong, and unjust to pursue such a course, and yet
expect these neglected ones still to travel on with us; for even in
their dejected state some, or even all, might actually go as far without
water as the others would go with; and as for turning them adrift, or
shooting them in a mob&mdash;which was also mooted&mdash;so long as they
could travel, that was out of the question. So I declined all counsel,
and declared it should be a case of all sink or all swim. In the middle
of the thirteenth day, during which we rested for the purpose, the water
was fairly divided among the camels; the quantity given to each was only
a little over four gallons&mdash;about equivalent to four thimblesful to
a man. There were eighteen grown camels and one calf, Youldeh, the
quantity given was about eighty gallons. To give away this quantity of
water in such a region was like parting with our blood; but it was the
creatures' right, and carried expressly for them; and with the renewed
vigour which even that small quantity imparted to them, our own lives
seemed to obtain a new lease. Unfortunately, the old cow which calved at
Youldeh, and whose she-calf is the prettiest and nicest little pet in
the world, has begun to fail in her milk, and I am afraid the young
animal will be unable to hold out to the end of this desert, if indeed
it has an end this side of Perth. The position of this dry basin is in
latitude 30&deg; 7&acute; 3&acute;&acute;, and longitude 124&deg;
41&acute; 2&acute;&acute;. Since reaching the 125th meridian, my course
had been 5&deg; more southerly, and on departing from this wretched
basin on the 22nd of September, with animals greatly refreshed and
carrying much lighter loads, we immediately entered dense scrubs,
composed as usual of mallee, with its friend the spinifex, black oaks,
and numerous gigantic mallee-like gum-trees. It seemed that distance,
which lends enchantment to the view, was the only chance for our lives;
distance, distance, unknown distance seemed to be our only goal. The
country rose immediately from this depression into high and rolling
hills of sand, and here I was surprised to find that a number of the
melancholy cypress pines ornamented both the sandy hills and the
spinifex depressions through and over which we went. Here, indeed, some
few occasional signs and traces of the former presence of natives
existed. The only water they can possibly get in this region must be
from the roots of the trees. A great number of the so-called native
poplar-trees, of two varieties, Codonocarpus, were now met, and the
camels took huge bites at them as they passed by. The smaller vegetation
assumed the familiar similitude to that around the Mount Olga of my two
first horse expeditions. Two wild dog puppies were seen and caught by my
black boy Tommy and Nicholls, in the scrubs to-day, the fourteenth from
the dam. Tommy and others had also found a few Lowans', Leipoa ocellata,
nests, and we secured a few of the pink-tinted eggs; this was the laying
season. These, with the turkey Mr. Young had shot on the plain, were the
only adjuncts to our supplies that we had obtained from this region.
After to-day's stage there was nothing but the native poplar for the
camels to eat, and they devoured the leaves with great apparent relish,
though to my human taste it is about the most disgusting of vegetables.
The following day, fifteenth from water, we accomplished twenty-six
miles of scrubs. Our latitude here was 30&deg; 17&acute;. The country
continued to rise into sandhills, from which the only views obtainable
presented spaces precisely similar to those already traversed and left
behind to the eastwards, and if it were only from our experience of what
we had passed, that we were to gather intelligence of what was before us
in the future, then would our future be gloomy indeed.

<h5><a name="i34">ILLUSTRATION 34</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t34.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>IN QUEEN VICTORIA'S DESERT</h5>

<p>At twelve o'clock on the sixteenth day some natives' smoke was seen
straight on our course, and also some of their foot-marks. The days
throughout this march had been warm; the thermometer at twelve o'clock,
when we let the camels lie down, with their loads on, for an hour,
usually stood at 94, 95, or 96&deg;, while in the afternoon it was some
degrees hotter. On Saturday, the 25th of September, being the sixteenth
day from the water at the Boundary Dam, we travelled twenty-seven miles,
still on our course, through mallee and spinifex, pines, casuarinas, and
quandong-trees, and noticed for the first time upon this expedition some
very fine specimens of the Australian grass-tree, Xanthorrhoea; the
giant mallee were also numerous. The latter give a most extraordinary
appearance to the scenes they adorn, for they cheat the eye of the
traveller into the belief that he is passing through tracts of alluvial
soil, and gazing, upon the water-indicating gum-trees. This night we
reached a most abominable encampment; there was nothing that the camels
could eat, and the ground was entirely covered with great bunches of
spinifex. Before us, and all along the western horizon, we had a
black-looking and scrubby rise of very high sandhills; each of us
noticed its resemblance to those sandhills which had confronted us to
the north and east when at Youldeh. By observation we found that we were
upon the same latitude, but had reached a point in longitude 500 miles
to the west of it. It is highly probable that no water exists in a
straight line between the two places. Shortly before evening, Mr. Young
was in advance steering, but he kept so close under the sun&mdash;it
being now so near the equinox, the sun set nearly west, and our course
being 21&deg; south of west&mdash;I had to go forward and tell him that
he was not steering rightly. Of course he became indignant, and saying,
&ldquo;Perhaps you'll steer, then, if you don't think I can!&rdquo; he
handed me the compass. I took it in silence and steered more southerly,
in the proper direction of our course; this led us over a long white
ridge of sand, and brought us to the hollow where, as I said before, we
had such a wretched encampment. I mention this as a circumstance
attaches to it. The fate of empires at times has hung upon a thread, and
our fate now hung upon my action. We had come 323 miles without having
seen a drop of water. There was silence and melancholy in the camp; and
was it to be wondered at if, in such a region and under such
circumstances, there was:&mdash;

<p class="poem">&ldquo;A load on each spirit, a cloud o'er each soul,
<br>With eyes that could scan not, our destiny's scroll.&rdquo;

<p>Every man seemed to turn his eyes on me. I was the great centre of
attraction; every action of mine was held to have some peculiar meaning.
I was continually asked night after night if we should get water the
following day? The reply, &ldquo;How can I tell?&rdquo; was
insufficient; I was supposed to know to an inch where water was and
exactly when we could reach it. I believe all except the officers
thought I was making for a known water, for although I had explained the
situation before leaving the dam, it was only now that they were
beginning to comprehend its full meaning. Towards the line of dark
sandhills, which formed the western horizon, was a great fall of country
into a kind of hollow, and on the following morning, the seventeenth day
from the dam, Mr. Tietkens appeared greatly impressed with the belief
that we were in the neighbourhood of water. I said nothing of my own
impressions, for I thought something of the kind also, although I said I
would not believe it. It was Mr. Tietkens's turn to steer, and he
started on foot ahead of the string of camels for that purpose. He gave
Tommy his little riding-bull, the best leading camel we have, and told
him to go on top of a white sandhill to our left, a little south of us,
and try if he could find any fresh blacks' tracks, or other indications
of water. I did not know that Tommy had gone, nor could I see that
Tietkens was walking&mdash;it was an extraordinary event when the whole
string of camels could be seen at once in a line in this
country&mdash;and we had been travelling some two miles and a half when
Alec Ross and Peter Nicholls declared that they heard Tommy calling out
&ldquo;water!&rdquo; I never will believe these things until they are
proved, so I kept the party still going on. However, even I, soon ceased
to doubt, for Tommy came rushing through the scrubs full gallop, and,
between a scream and a howl, yelled out quite loud enough now even for
me to hear, &ldquo;Water! water! plenty water here! come on! come on!
this way! this way! come on, Mr. Giles! mine been find 'em plenty
water!&rdquo; I checked his excitement a moment and asked whether it was
a native well he had found, and should we have to work at it with the
shovel? Tommy said, &ldquo;No fear shovel, that fellow water sit down
meself (i.e. itself) along a ground, camel he drink 'em meself.&rdquo;
Of course we turned the long string after him. Soon after he left us he
had ascended the white sandhill whither Mr. Tietkens had sent him, and
what sight was presented to his view! A little open oval space of grass
land, half a mile away, surrounded entirely by pine-trees, and falling
into a small funnel-shaped hollow, looked at from above. He said that
before he ascended the sandhill he had seen the tracks of an emu, and on
descending he found the bird's track went for the little open circle. He
then followed it to the spot, and saw a miniature lake lying in the
sand, with plenty of that inestimable fluid which he had not beheld for
more than 300 miles. He watered his camel, and then rushed after us, as
we were slowly passing on ignorantly by this life-sustaining prize, to
death and doom. Had Mr. Young steered rightly the day
before&mdash;whenever it was his turn during that day I had had to tell
him to make farther south&mdash;we should have had this treasure right
upon our course; and had I not checked his incorrect steering in the
evening, we should have passed under the northern face of a long, white
sandhill more than two miles north of this water. Neither Tommy nor
anybody else would have seen the place on which it lies, as it is
completely hidden in the scrubs; as it was, we should have passed within
a mile of it if Mr. Tietkens had not sent Tommy to look out, though I
had made up my mind not to enter the high sandhills beyond without a
search in this hollow, for my experience told me if there was no water
in it, none could exist in this terrible region at all, and we must have
found the tracks of natives, or wild dogs or emus leading to the water.
Such characters in the book of Nature the explorer cannot fail to read,
as we afterwards saw numerous native foot-marks all about. When we
arrived with the camels at this newly-discovered liquid gem, I found it
answered to Tommy's description. It is the most singularly-placed water
I have ever seen, lying in a small hollow in the centre of a little
grassy flat, and surrounded by clumps of the funereal pines, &ldquo;in a
desert inaccessible, under the shade of melancholy boughs.&rdquo; While
watering my little camel at its welcome waters, I might well exclaim,
&ldquo;In the desert a fountain is springing&rdquo;&mdash;though in this
wide waste there's too many a tree. The water is no doubt permanent, for
it is supplied by the drainage of the sandhills that surround it, and it
rests on a substratum of impervious clay. It lies exposed to view in a
small open basin, the water being only about 150 yards in circumference
and from two to three feet deep. Farther up the slopes, at much higher
levels, native wells had been sunk in all directions&mdash;in each and
all of these there was water. One large well, apparently a natural one,
lay twelve or thirteen feet higher up than the largest basin, and
contained a plentiful supply of pure water. Beyond the immediate
precincts of this open space the scrubs abound.

<p>It may be imagined how thankful we were for the discovery of this
only and lonely watered spot, after traversing such a desert. How much
longer and farther the expedition could have gone on without water we
were now saved the necessity of guessing, but this I may truly say, that
Sir Thomas Elder's South Australian camels are second to none in the
world for strength and endurance. From both a human and humane point of
view, it was most fortunate to have found this spring, and with it a
respite, not only from our unceasing march, but from the terrible
pressure on our minds of our perilous situation; for the painful fact
was ever before us, that even after struggling bravely through hundreds
of miles of frightful scrubs, we might die like dogs in the desert at
last, unheard of and unknown. On me the most severe was the strain; for
myself I cared not, I had so often died in spirit in my direful journeys
that actual death was nothing to me. But for vanity, or fame, or honour,
or greed, and to seek the bubble reputation, I had brought six other
human beings into a dreadful strait, and the hollow eyes and gaunt,
appealing glances that were always fixed on me were terrible to bear;
but I gathered some support from a proverb of Solomon: &ldquo;If thou
faint in the day of adversity, thy strength is small.&rdquo; Mount
Churchman, the place I was endeavouring to reach, was yet some 350 miles
distant; this discovery, it was therefore evident, was the entire
salvation of the whole party.

<p>During our march for these sixteen or seventeen days from the little
dam, I had not put the members of my party upon an actual short
allowance of water. Before we watered the camels we had over 100 gallons
of water, yet the implied restraint was so great that we were all in a
continual state of thirst during the whole time, and the small quantity
of water consumed&mdash;of course we never had any tea or
coffee&mdash;showed how all had restrained themselves.

<h5><a name="i35">ILLUSTRATION 35</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t35.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>QUEEN VICTORIA'S SPRING.</h5>

<p>Geographical features have been terribly scarce upon this expedition,
and this peculiar spring is the first permanent water I have found. I
have ventured to dedicate it to our most gracious Queen. The great
desert in which I found it, and which will most probably extend to the
west as far as it does to the east, I have also honoured with Her
Majesty's mighty name, calling it the Great Victoria Desert, and the
spring, Queen Victoria's Spring. In future times these may be celebrated
localities in the British Monarch's dominions. I have no Victoria or
Albert Nyanzas, no Tanganyikas, Lualabas, or Zambezes, like the great
African travellers, to honour with Her Majesty's name, but the humble
offering of a little spring in a hideous desert, which, had it
surrounded the great geographical features I have enumerated, might well
have kept them concealed for ever, will not, I trust, be deemed
unacceptable in Her Majesty's eyes, when offered by a loyal and most
faithful subject.

<p>On our arrival here our camels drank as only thirsty camels can, and
great was our own delight to find ourselves again enabled to drink at
will and indulge in the luxury of a bath. Added to both these pleasures
was a more generous diet, so that we became quite enamoured of our new
home. At this spring the thorny vegetation of the desert grew alongside
the more agreeable water-plants at the water's edge, so that fertility
and sterility stood side by side. Mr. Young planted some seeds of
numerous vegetables, plants, and trees, and among others some of the
giant bamboo, Dendrocalamus striatus, also Tasmanian blue gum and
wattles. I am afraid these products of Nature will never reach maturity,
for the natives are continually burning the rough grass and spinifex,
and on a favourably windy occasion these will consume everything green
or dry, down to the water's edge. There seems to be very little native
game here, though a number of bronze-winged pigeons came to water at
night and morning. There are, however, so many small native wells
besides the larger sheet, for them to drink at, and also such a quantity
of a thorny vegetation to screen them, that we have not been very
successful in getting any. Our best shot, Mr. Young, succeeded in
bagging only four or five. It was necessary, now that we had found this
spring, to give our noble camels a fair respite, the more so as the food
they will eat is very scarce about here, as we have yet over 300 miles
to travel to reach Mount Churchman, with every probability of getting no
water between. There are many curious flying and creeping insects here,
but we have not been fortunate in catching many. Last night, however, I
managed to secure and methylate a good-sized scorpion. After resting
under the umbrageous foliage of the cypress-pines, among which our
encampment was fixed for a week, the party and camels had all recovered
from the thirst and fatigue of our late march, and it really seemed
impossible to believe that such a stretch of country as 325 miles could
actually have been traversed between this and the last water. The
weather during our halt had been very warm, the thermometer had tried to
go over 100&deg; in the shade, but fell short by one degree. Yesterday
was an abominable day; a heated tornado blew from the west from morning
until night and continued until this morning, when, without apparent
change otherwise, and no clouds, the temperature of the wind entirely
altered and we had an exceedingly cool and delightful day. We found the
position of this spring to be in latitude 30&deg; 25&acute;
30&acute;&acute; and longitude 123&deg; 21&acute; 13&acute;&acute;. On
leaving a depot and making a start early in the morning, camels, like
horses, may not be particularly inclined to fill themselves with water,
while they might do so in the middle of the day, and thus may leave a
depot on a long dry march not half filled. The Arabs in Egypt and other
camel countries, when starting for a desert march, force the animals, as
I have seen&mdash;that is, read of&mdash;to fill themselves up by using
bullocks' horns for funnels and pouring the water down their throats
till the creatures are ready to burst. The camels, knowing by
experience, so soon as the horns are stuck into their mouths, that they
are bound for a desert march, fill up accordingly.

<p>Strange to say, though I had brought from Port Augusta almost every
article that could be mentioned for the journey, yet I did not bring any
bullocks' horns, and it was too late now to send Tommy back to procure
some; we consequently could not fill up our camels at starting, after
the Arab fashion. In order to obviate any disadvantage on this account,
to-day I sent, with Mr. Tietkens and Alec Ross, three camels, loaded
with water, to be deposited about twenty-five miles on our next line of
route, so that the camels could top up en passant. The water was to be
poured into two canvas troughs and covered over with a tarpaulin. This
took two days going and coming, but we remained yet another two, at the
Queen's Spring.

<p>Before I leave that spot I had perhaps better remark that it might
prove a very difficult, perhaps dangerous place, to any other traveller
to attempt to find, because, although there are many white sandhills in
the neighbourhood, the open space on which the water lies is so small in
area and so closely surrounded by scrubs, that it cannot be seen from
any conspicuous one, nor can any conspicuous sandhill, distinguishable
at any distance, be seen from it. It lies at or near the south-west end
of a mass of white-faced sandhills; there are none to the south or west
of it. While we remained here a few aboriginals prowled about the camp,
but they never showed themselves. On the top of the bank, above all the
wells, was a beaten corroborree path, where these denizens of the desert
have often held their feasts and dances. Tommy found a number of long,
flat, sword-like weapons close by, and brought four or five of them into
the camp. They were ornamented after the usual Australian aboriginal
fashion, some with slanting cuts or grooves along the blade, others with
square, elliptical, or rounded figures; several of these two-handed
swords were seven feet long, and four or five inches wide; wielded with
good force, they were formidable enough to cut a man in half at a blow.

<p>This spring could not be the only water in this region; I believe
there was plenty more in the immediate neighbourhood, as the natives
never came to water here. It was singular how we should have dropped
upon such a scene, and penetrated thus the desert's vastness, to the
scrub-secluded fastness of these Austral-Indians' home. Mr. Young and I
collected a great many specimens of plants, flowers, insects, and
reptiles. Among the flowers was the marvellous red, white, blue, and
yellow wax-like flower of a hideous little gnarled and stunted
mallee-tree; it is impossible to keep these flowers unless they could be
hermetically preserved in glass; all I collected and most carefully put
away in separate tin boxes fell to pieces, and lost their colours. The
collection of specimens of all kinds got mislaid in Adelaide. Some
grass-trees grew in the vicinity of this spring to a height of over
twenty feet. On the evening of the 5th of October a small snake and
several very large scorpions came crawling about us as we sat round the
fire; we managed to bottle the scorpions, but though we wounded the
snake it escaped; I was very anxious to methylate him also, but it
appeared he had other ideas, and I should not be at all surprised if a
pressing interview with his undertaker was one of them.

<p>One evening a discussion arose about the moon, and Saleh was trying
to teach Tommy something, God knows what, about it. Amongst other
assertions he informed Tommy that the moon travelled from east to west,
&ldquo;because, you see, Tommy,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;he like the
sun&mdash;sun travel west too.&rdquo; Tommy shook his head very
sapiently, and said, &ldquo;No, I don't think that, I think moon go the
other way.&rdquo; &ldquo;No fear,&rdquo; said Saleh, &ldquo;how could
it?&rdquo; Then Peter Nicholls was asked, and he couldn't tell; he
thought Saleh was right, because the moon did set in the west. So Tommy
said, &ldquo;Oh, well, I'll ask Mr. Giles,&rdquo; and they came to where
Mr. T, Mr. Y., and I were seated, and told us the argument. I said,
&ldquo;No, Saleh, the moon travels just the other way.&rdquo; Then Tommy
said, &ldquo;I tole you so, I know,&rdquo; but of course he couldn't
explain himself. Saleh was scandalised, and all his religious ideas
seemed upset. So I said, &ldquo;Well, now, Saleh, you say the moon
travels to the west; now do you see where she is to-night, between those
two stars?&rdquo; &ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I see.&rdquo; I
said, &ldquo;If to-morrow night she is on the east side of that
one,&rdquo; pointing to one, &ldquo;she must have travelled east to get
there, mustn't she?&rdquo; &ldquo;Oh, no,&rdquo; said Saleh, &ldquo;she
can't go there, she must come down west like the sun,&rdquo; etc. In
vain we showed him the next night how she had moved still farther east
among the stars; that was nothing to him. It would have been far easier
to have converted him to Christianity than to make him alter his
original opinion. With regard to Tommy's ideas, I may say that nearly
all Australian natives are familiar with the motions of the heavenly
bodies, knowing the difference between a star and a planet, and all
tribes that I have been acquainted with have proper names for each, the
moon also being a very particular object of their attention.

<p>While at this water we occasionally saw hawks, crows, corellas, a
pink-feathered kind of cockatoo, and black magpies, which in some parts
of the country are also called mutton birds, and pigeons. One day Peter
Nicholls shot a queer kind of carrion bird, not so large as a crow,
although its wings were as long. It had the peculiar dancing hop of the
crow, its plumage was of a dark slate colour, with whitish tips to the
wings, its beak was similar to a crow's.

<p>We had now been at this depot for nine days, and on the 6th of
October we left it behind to the eastward, as we had done all the other
resting places we had found. I desired to go as straight as possible for
Mount Churchman. Its position by the chart is in latitude 29&deg;
58&acute;, and longitude 118&deg;. Straight lines on a map and straight
lines through dense scrubs are, however, totally different, and, go as
straight as we could, we must make it many miles farther than its
distance showed by the chart.

<hr>

<h4><a name="ch4.3">CHAPTER 4.3. FROM 6TH TO 18TH OCTOBER, 1875.</a></h4>
<blockquote>
Depart for Mount Churchman.
Yellow-barked trees.
Wallaby traps.
Sight a low hill.
Several salt lakes.
Another hill.
Camels bogged.
Natives' smoke.
Bare rocks.
Grass-trees.
Clayey and grassy ground.
Dryness of the region.
Another mass of bare rocks.
A pretty place.
Crows and native foot-tracks.
Tommy finds a well.
Then another.
Alone on the rocks.
Voices of the angels.
Women coming for water.
First natives seen.
Arrival of the party.
Camels very thirsty but soon watered.
Two hundred miles of desert.
Natives come to the camp.
Splendid herbage.
A romantic spot.
More natives arrive.
Native ornaments.
A mouthpiece.
Cold night.
Thermometer 32&deg;.
Animals' tracks.
Natives arrive for breakfast.
Inspection of native encampment.
Old implements of white men in the camp.
A lame camel.
Ularring.
A little girl.
Dislikes a looking-glass.
A quiet and peaceful camp.
A delightful oasis.
Death and danger lurking near.
Scouts and spies.
A furious attack.
Personal foe.
Dispersion of the enemy.
A child's warning.
Keep a watch.
Silence at night.
Howls and screams in the morning.
The Temple of Nature.
Reflections.
Natives seen no more.
</blockquote>
<p>On the 6th October, as I have said, we departed, and at once entered
into the second division of Her Majesty Queen Victoria's great
Australian desert. That night we camped at the place where Mr. Tietkens
and Alec Ross, albeit a short measure for twenty-five miles, had left
the two troughs full of water. I had instructed them to travel
west-north-west. The country of course was all scrubs and sandhills. We
saw a few currajong-trees during our day's stage, and where we camped
there were a number of well-grown eucalyptus-trees with yellow bark.
These seemed to me very like the yellow jacket timber that grows on
watercourses in parts of New South Wales and Queensland. The water I had
sent out to this place was just sufficient to fill up the camels. The
following day, at three miles from the camp, we came to some large
granite boulders in the scrubs; but there were no receptacles for
holding water at any time. At sixteen miles we reached a dry salt lake
on our left hand; this continued near our line for four miles. Both
yesterday and to-day we saw some native wallaby traps in the dense
scrubs; these are simply long lines of sticks, boughs, bushes, etc.,
which, when first laid down, may be over a foot high; they are sometimes
over a quarter of a mile long. These lines meet each other at nearly
right angles, and form a corner. For a few yards on each side of the
corner the fence is raised to between four and five feet, made somewhat
substantial and laid with boughs. Over this is thrown either a large net
or a roofing of boughs. I saw no signs of nets in this region. The
wallaby are hunted until they get alongside the fences; if they are not
flurried they will hop along it until they get to a part which is too
high, or they think it is; then they go up into the trap, where there is
a small opening, and get knocked on the head for their pains by a black
man inside. At twenty miles we actually sighted a low hill. Here was a
change. At four miles farther we reached its foot; there were salt lake
depressions nearly all round us. Here we found a small quantity of the
little pea-vetch, which is such excellent food for the camels.

<p>From the summit of this little hill, the first I had met for nearly
800 miles&mdash;Mount Finke was the last&mdash;another low scrubby ridge
lay to the westward, and nearly across our course, with salt lakes
intervening, and others lying nearly all round the horizon. At the foot
of the little hill we encamped. A few hundred acres of ground were open,
and there were clay-pans upon it, but no rain could have fallen here for
ages I should imagine. The hill was only 200 feet high, and it was
composed of granite stones. I was glad, however, to see some granite
crop out, as we were now approaching the western coast-line formation;
this I have always understood to be all granite, and it was about time
that something like a change of country should occur. The following day,
in making for the low range, we found ourselves caught in the
ramifications of some of the saline depressions, and had to go a long
way round to avoid them. Just before we reached the low range we passed
the shore of another salt lake, which had a hard, firm, and
quartz-pebbly bed, and we were enabled to travel across it to the hills;
these we reached in sixteen miles from our last camp. The view from the
summit was as discouraging as ever. To the west appeared densely scrubby
rises, and to the south many salt channels existed, while in every other
direction scrubs and scrubby rises bounded the view. This low range was
about 300 feet high; the ridges beyond continued on our course, a little
north of west for two or three miles, when we again entered the sandy
scrubs, and camped, after travelling twenty-eight miles. Our position
here was in latitude 30&deg; 10&acute; 5&acute;&acute;, and longitude
122&deg; 7&acute; 6&acute;&acute;. The next day we had scrubs undulating
as usual, and made a day's stage of twenty-four miles, sighting at
twelve miles three low ranges, northerly, north-easterly, and
east-north-easterly, the most easterly appearing to be the highest. They
were from twenty to thirty miles away from our line.

<p>On the 9th and 10th October we had all scrubs; on the 11th, towards
evening, we had some scrubby ridges in front of us, and were again
hemmed in by salt lakes. To save several miles of roundabout travelling,
we attempted to cross one of these, which, though not very broad, was
exceedingly long to the north and south, and lay right across our track.
Unfortunately a number of the leading camels became apparently
hopelessly embedded in a fearful bog, and we had great difficulty in
getting them safely out. It was only by the strenuous exertions of all
hands, and by pulling up the camels' legs with ropes, and poking
tarpaulins into the vacated holes, that we finally rescued them without
loss. We then had to carry out all their loads ourselves, and also the
huge and weighty pack-saddles. We found it no easy matter to carry 200
pounds, half a load&mdash;some of the water-casks weighed more&mdash;on
our backs, when nearly up to our necks in the briny mud, on to the firm
ground. However, we were most fortunate in having no loss with the
camels, for a camel in a bog is the most helpless creature imaginable.
Leaving the bog, we started up the shore of the lake, northerly, where
we found some more of the little pea-vetch, and encamped, making only
twenty-four miles straight from last camp. The camels have had nothing
to eat for three nights previously. We saw some natives' smoke three or
four miles away from where we camped, and as there were ridges near it,
I intend to send some one there in the morning to look for water.

<p>We had still some miles to go, to get round the northern end of the
boggy lake. Alec Ross and Tommy walked across, to hunt up any traces of
natives, etc., and to look for water. On clearing this boggy feature, we
ascended into some densely scrubby granite rises; these had some bare
rocks exposed here and there, but no indentations for holding water
could be seen. At fifteen or sixteen miles, having passed all the
ridges, and entered scrubs and mallee again, Alec and Tommy overtook us,
Mr. Young having remained behind with their camels, and reported that
they had found one small rock-hole. Alec said it had twenty or thirty
gallons of water in it, but Tommy said there was only a little drop, so
I did not think it worth while to delay by sending any camels back so
far for so little reward. We saw two or three dozen grass-trees to-day,
also some quandong and currajong trees, and camped again in scrubs where
there was only a few leguminous bushes for the camels to eat. We had
travelled twenty-eight miles, which only made twenty-four straight. The
last three days had been warm, the thermometer going up to 98&deg; in
the shade each day at about twelve o'clock; the camels were very
thirsty, and would not feed as the provender was so very poor.

<p>During the last few days we had met with occasional patches of grassy
and clayey ground, generally where the yellow-barked eucalypts grew, and
we passed numerous small clay-channels and pans, in which rain-water
might lodge for some time after a shower, but it was evident from the
appearance of the grass and vegetation that no rains could have visited
the region for a year, or it might be for a hundred years; every
vegetable thing seemed dry, sere, or dead. On the 13th of October, at
twelve miles from camp, we passed over some more scrubby granite ridges,
where some extent of bare rock lay exposed. I searched about it, but the
indents were so small and shallow that water could not remain in them
for more than a week after rains had filled them. While I was searching
on foot, Mr. Young and Tommy, from their camels' backs, saw another mass
of bare rocks further away to the north-west. I took Tommy with me, on
Reechy, and we went over to the spot, while the party continued marching
on; on arriving we found a very pretty piece of scenery. Several hundred
acres of bare rocks, with grassy flats sloping down from them to the
west, and forming little watercourses or flat water-channels; there were
great numbers of crows, many fresh natives' tracks, and the smoke of
several fires in the surrounding scrub. Tommy took the lower ground,
while I searched the rocks. He soon found a small native well in a
grassy water-channel, and called out to me. On joining him I found that
there was very little water in sight, but I thought a supply might be
got with a shovel, and I decided to send him on my camel to bring the
party back, for we had come over 200 miles from Queen Victoria's Spring,
and this was the first water I had seen since leaving there. We gave
little Reechy, or as I usually called her Screechy, all the water we
could get out of the well, with one of Tommy's boots; she drank it out
of his hat, and they started away. I fully believed there was more water
about somewhere, and I intended having a good hunt until either I found
it or the party came. I watched Tommy start, of course at full speed,
for when he got a chance of riding Screechy he was in his glory, and as
she was behind the mob, and anxious to overtake them, she would go at
the rate of twenty miles an hour, if allowed to gallop; but much to my
surprise, when they had gone about 200 yards along the grassy
water-channel, apparently in an instant, down went Reechy on her knees,
and Tommy, still in the saddle, yelled out to me, &ldquo;Plenty water
here! plenty water here!&rdquo; Reechy, who had not had half enough at
the first place, would not go past this one.

<p>I walked down and saw a large well with a good body of water in it,
evidently permanently supplied by the drainage of the mass of bare rocks
in its vicinity. I was greatly pleased at Tommy's discovery, and after
giving Reechy a thorough good drink, off he went like a rocket after the
party. I wandered about, but found no other water-place; and then,
thinking of the days that were long enough ago, I sat in the shade of an
umbrageous acacia bush. Soon I heard the voices of the angels, native
black and fallen angels, and their smokes came gradually nearer. I
thought they must have seen me on the top of the rocks, and desired to
make my further acquaintance. The advancing party, however, turned out
to be only two women coming for water to the well. They had vessels,
usually called coolamins&mdash;these are small wooden troughs, though
sometimes made of bark, and are shaped like miniature canoes&mdash;for
carrying water to their encampment. When they came near enough to see
what I was, they ran away a short distance, then stopped, turned round,
and looked at me. Of course I gave a gentle bow, as to something quite
uncommon; a man may bend his lowest in a desert to a woman. I also made
signs for them to come to the well, but they dropped their bark
coolamins and walked smartly off. I picked up these things, and found
them to be of a most original, or rather aboriginal, construction. They
were made of small sheets of the yellow-tree bark, tied up at the ends
with bark-string, thus forming small troughs. When filled, some grass or
leaves are put on top of the water to prevent it slopping over. The
women carry these troughs on their heads. I was not near enough to
distinguish whether the women were beautiful or not; all I could make
out was that one was young and fatter than the other. Amongst aborigines
of every clime fatness goes a great way towards beauty. The youngest and
fattest was the last to decamp.

<p>These were the first natives I had seen upon this expedition; no
others appeared while I was by myself. In about four hours the party
arrived; they had travelled six miles past the place when Tommy overtook
them. We soon watered all the camels; they were extremely thirsty, for
they had travelled 202 miles from Queen Victoria's Spring, although, in
a straight line, we were only 180 miles from it. Almost immediately upon
the arrival of the caravan, a number of native men and one young boy
made their appearance. They were apparently quiet and inoffensive, and
some of them may have seen white people before, for one or two spoke a
few English words, such as &ldquo;white fellow,&rdquo; &ldquo;what
name,&rdquo; &ldquo;boy,&rdquo; etc. They seemed pleased, but astonished
to see the camels drink such an enormous quantity of water; they
completely emptied the well, and the natives have probably never seen it
empty before. The water drained in pretty fast: in an hour the well was
as full as ever, and with much purer water than formerly. There was
plenty of splendid herbage and leguminous bushes here for the camels. It
is altogether a most romantic and pretty place; the little grassy
channels were green and fresh-looking, and the whole space for a mile
around open, and dotted with shady acacia trees and bushes. Between two
fine acacias, nearly under the edge of a huge, bare expanse of rounded
rock, our camp was fixed. The slope of the whole area is to the west.

<p>It reminded me of Wynbring more than any other place I have seen. At
first only eight natives made their appearance, and Mr. Young cut up a
red handkerchief into as many strips. These we tied around their regal
brows, and they seemed exceedingly proud of themselves. Towards evening
three or four more came to the camp; one had a large piece of pearl
oyster-shell depending from a string round his neck, another had a queer
ornament made of short feathers also depending from the neck; it looked
like the mouth of a porte-monnaie. When I wished to examine it, the
wearer popped it over his mouth, and opened that extensive feature to
its fullest dimensions, laughing most heartily. He had a very theatrical
air, and the extraordinary mouthpiece made him look like a demon in, or
out of, a pantomime. In taking this ornament off his neck he broke the
string, and I supplied him with a piece of elastic band, so that he
could put it on and off without undoing it, whenever he pleased; but the
extraordinary phenomenon to him of the extension of a solid was more
than he was prepared for, and he scarcely liked to allow it to touch his
person again. I put it over my head first, and this reassured him, so
that he wore it again as usual. They seemed a very good-natured lot of
fellows, and we gave them a trifle of damper and sugar each. During the
morning, before we arrived here, Tommy had been most successful in
obtaining Lowans' eggs, and we had eleven or twelve with us. When the
natives saw these, which no doubt they looked upon as their own peculiar
and lawful property, they eyed them with great anxiety, and, pointing to
them, they spoke to one another, probably expecting that we should hand
the eggs over to them; but we didn't do it. At night they went away;
their camp could not be far off, as we continually heard the sounds of
voices and could see their camp fires. Before sunrise the following
morning the mercury fell to 32&deg;; although there was no dew to
freeze, to us it appeared to be 100&deg; below zero. The only animals'
tracks seen round our well were emus, wild dogs, and Homo sapiens.
Lowans and other desert birds and marsupials appear never to approach
the watering-places.

<p>Our sable friends came very early to breakfast, and brought a few
more whom we had not previously seen; also two somewhat old and faded
frail, if not fair, ones; soon after a little boy came by himself. This
young imp of Satan was just like a toad&mdash;all mouth and stomach. It
appeared these natives practise the same rites of incision, excision,
and semi-circumcision as the Fowler's Bay tribes; and Tommy, who comes
from thence, said he could understand a few words these people spoke,
but not all; he was too shy to attempt a conversation with them, but he
listened to all they said, and occasionally interpreted a few of their
remarks to us. These principally referred to where he could have come
from and what for. To-day Alec Ross and Peter Nicholls walked over to
the natives' encampment, and reported that most of the men who had been
to our camp were sitting there with nothing to eat in the camp; the
women being probably out on a hunting excursion, whilst they, as lords
of creation, waited quietly at their club till dinner should be
announced. They got very little from me, as I had no surplus food to
spare. Nicholls told me they had some tin billies and shear-blades in
the camp, and I noticed that one of the first batch we saw had a small
piece of coarse cloth on; another had a piece of horse's girth webbing.
On questioning the most civilised, and inquiring about some places,
whose native names were given on my chart, I found they knew two or
three of these, and generally pointed in the proper directions. It was
evident they had often seen white people before, if, they had never
eaten any.

<p>One of our cow camels had been very lame for two or three days, and
now we found she had a long mulga stake stuck up through the thick sole
of her spongy foot. I got a long piece out with knife and plyers, but
its removal did not appear to improve her case, for the whole lower part
of her leg was more swollen after than before the extraction of the
wood, but I hoped a day or two would put her right. Yesterday, the 15th
of October, Mr. Young managed to get the name of this place from the
natives. They call it Ularring, with the accent on the second syllable.
It is a great relief to my mind to get it, as it saves me the invidious
task of selecting only one name by which to call the place from the list
of my numerous friends. This morning, 16th, our usual visitors arrived;
two are most desirous to go westward with us when we start. A little
later a very pretty little girl came by herself. She was about nine or
ten years old, and immediately became the pet of the camp. All the
people of this tribe are excessively thin, and so was this little
creature. She had splendid eyes and beautiful teeth, and we soon dressed
her up, and gave her a good breakfast. In an hour after her arrival she
was as much at home in my camp as though I were her father. She is a
merry little thing, but we can't understand a word she says. She
evidently takes a great interest in everything she sees at the camp, but
she didn't seem to care to look at herself in a glass, though the men
always did.

<p>While we were at dinner to-day a sudden whirl-wind sprang up and sent
a lot of my loose papers, from where I had been writing, careering so
wildly into the air, that I was in great consternation lest I should
lose several sheets of my journal, and find my imagination put to the
test of inventing a new one. We all ran about after the papers, and so
did some of the blacks, and finally they were all recovered. Mr. Young
cut my initials and date thus: E. over G. over 75., upon a Grevillea or
beef-wood-tree, which grew close to the well. While here we have enjoyed
delightful weather; gentle breezes and shady tree(es), quiet and
inoffensive aboriginals, with pretty children in the midst of a peaceful
and happy camp, situated in charming scenery amidst fantastic rocks,
with beautiful herbage and pure water for our almighty beasts. What a
delightful oasis in the desert to the weary traveller! The elder
aboriginals, though the words of their mouths were smoother than butter,
yet war was in their hearts. They appeared to enjoy our company very
well. &ldquo;Each in his place allotted, had silent sat or squatted,
while round their children trotted, in pretty youthful play. One can't
but smile who traces the lines on their dark faces, to the pretty
prattling graces of these small heathens gay.&rdquo;

<p>The 16th October, 1875, was drawing to a close, as all its
predecessors from time's remotest infancy have done; the cheery voice of
the expedition cook had called us to our evening meal; as usual we sat
down in peaceful contentment, not dreaming that death or danger was
lurking near, but nevertheless, outside this peaceful scene a mighty
preparation for our destruction was being made by an army of unseen and
unsuspected foes.

<p class="poem">&ldquo;The hunting tribes of air and earth
<br>Respect the brethren of their birth; 
<br>Man only mars kind Nature's plan,
<br>And turns the fierce pursuit on man.&rdquo;

<h5><a name="i36">ILLUSTRATION 36</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t36.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>ATTACK AT ULARRING.</h5>

<p>Our supper was spread, by chance or Providential interference, a
little earlier than usual. Mr. Young, having finished his meal first,
had risen from his seat. I happened to be the last at the festive board.
In walking towards the place where his bedding was spread upon the
rocks, he saw close to him, but above on the main rock, and at about the
level of his eyes, two unarmed natives making signs to the two quiet and
inoffensive ones that were in the camp, and instantaneously after he saw
the front rank of a grand and imposing army approaching, guided by the
two scouts in advance. I had not much time to notice them in detail, but
I could see that these warriors were painted, feathered, and armed to
the teeth with spears, clubs, and other weapons, and that they were
ready for instant action. Mr. Young gave the alarm, and we had only just
time to seize our firearms when the whole army was upon us. At a first
glance this force was most imposing; the coup d'oeil was really
magnificent; they looked like what I should imagine a body of Comanche
Indians would appear when ranged in battle line. The men were closely
packed in serried ranks, and it was evident they formed a drilled and
perfectly organised force. Immediate action became imminent, and as most
fortunately they had thought to find us seated at supper, and to spear
us as we sat in a body together, we had just time, before fifty, sixty,
or a hundred spears could be thrown at us, as I immediately gave the
command to fire, to have the first discharge at them. Had it been
otherwise not one of us could possibly have escaped their
spears&mdash;all would certainly have been killed, for there were over a
hundred of the enemy, and they approached us in a solid phalanx of five
or six rows, each row consisting of eighteen or twenty warriors. Their
project no doubt was, that so soon as any of us was speared by the
warriors, the inoffensive spies in the camp were to tomahawk us at their
leisure, as we rolled about in agony from our wounds; but, taken by
surprise, their otherwise exceedingly well-organised attack, owing to a
slight change in our supper-hour, was a little too late, and our fire
caused a great commotion and wavering in their legion's ordered line.
One of the quiet and inoffensive spies in the camp, as soon as he saw me
jump up and prepare for action, ran and jumped on me, put his arms round
my neck to prevent my firing, and though we could not get a word of
English out of him previously, when he did this, he called out, clinging
on to me, with his hand on my throat, &ldquo;Don't, don't!&rdquo; I
don't know if I swore, but I suppose I must, as I was turned away from
the thick array with most extreme disgust. I couldn't disengage myself;
I couldn't attend to the main army, for I had to turn my attention
entirely to this infernal encumbrance; all I could do was to yell out
&ldquo;Fire! fire for your lives.&rdquo; I intended to give the spy a
taste of my rifle first, but in consequence of his being in such close
quarters to me, and my holding my rifle with one hand, while I
endeavoured to free myself with the other, I could not point the muzzle
at my assailant, and my only way of clearing myself from his hold was by
battering his head with the butt end of the weapon with my right hand,
while he still clung round my left side. At last I disengaged myself,
and he let go suddenly, and slipped instantly behind one of the thick
acacia bushes, and got away, just as the army in front was wavering. All
this did not occupy many seconds of time, and I believe my final shot
decided the battle. The routed army, carrying their wounded, disappeared
behind the trees and bushes beyond the bare rock where the battle was
fought, and from whence not many minutes before they had so gallantly
emerged. This was the best organised and most disciplined aboriginal
force I ever saw. They must have thoroughly digested their plan of
attack, and sent not only quiet and inoffensive spies into the camp, but
a pretty little girl also, to lull any suspicions of their evil
intentions we might have entertained. Once during the day the little
girl sat down by me and began a most serious discourse in her own
language, and as she warmed with her subject she got up, gesticulated
and imitated the action of natives throwing spears, pointed towards the
natives' camp, stamped her foot on the ground close to me, and was no
doubt informing me of the intended onslaught of the tribe. As, however,
I did not understand a word she said, I did not catch her meaning
either; besides, I was writing, and she nearly covered me with dust, so
that I thought her a bit of a juvenile bore.

<p>After the engagement we picked up a great number of spears and other
weapons, where the hostile army had stood. The spears were long, light,
and barbed, and I could not help thinking how much more I liked them on
my outside than my in. I destroyed all the weapons I could lay hold of,
much to the disgust of the remaining spy, who had kept quiet all through
the fray. He seems to be some relative of the little girl, for they
always go about together; she may probably be his intended wife. During
the conflict, this little creature became almost frantic with
excitement, and ran off to each man who was about to fire, especially
Nicholls, the cook, with whom she seemed quite in love, patting him on
the back, clapping her small hands, squeaking out her delight, and
jumping about like a crow with a shirt on. While the fight was in
progress, in the forgetfulness of his excitation, my black boy Tommy
began to speak apparently quite fluently in their language to the two
spies, keeping up a running conversation with them nearly all the time.
It seemed that the celebrated saying of Talleyrand, &ldquo;Language was
only given to man to conceal his thought,&rdquo; was thoroughly
understood by my seemingly innocent and youthful Fowler's Bay native.
When I taxed him with his extraordinary conduct, he told me the natives
had tried to induce him to go with them to their camp, but his natural
timidity had deterred him and saved his life; for they would certainly
have killed him if he had gone. After the attack, Tommy said, &ldquo;I
tole you black fellow coming,&rdquo; though we did not recollect that he
had done so. The spy who had fastened on to me got away in an opposite
direction to that taken by the defeated army. The other spy and the girl
remained some little time after the action, and no one saw them depart,
although we became at last aware of their absence. We kept watch during
the night, as a precaution after such an attack, although I had not
instituted watching previously. There was a dead silence in the
direction of the enemy's encampment, and no sounds but those of our
camel-bells disturbed the stillness of the luminous and lunar night.

<p>On the following morning, at earliest dawn, the screams and howls of
a number of the aborigines grated harshly upon our ears, and we expected
and prepared for a fresh attack. The cries continued for some time, but
did not approach any nearer. After breakfast, the little girl and her
protector, the quietest of the two spies, made their appearance at the
camp as composedly as though nothing disagreeable had occurred to mar
our friendship, but my personal antagonist did not reappear&mdash;he
probably had a headache which kept him indoors. I had given the girl a
shirt when she first came to the camp, and Peter Nicholls had given her
protector an old coat, which was rather an elongated affair; on their
arrival this morning, these graceful garments had been exchanged, and
the girl appeared in the coat, trailing two feet on the ground, and the
man wore the shirt, which scarcely adorned him enough. I gave them some
breakfast and they went away, but returned very punctually to dinner.
Then I determined not to allow them to remain any longer near us, so
ordered them off, and they departed, apparently very reluctantly. I felt
very much inclined to keep the little girl. Although no doubt they still
continued watching us, we saw them no more.

<p>I got Mr. Young to plant various seeds round this well. No doubt
there must be other waters in this neighbourhood, as none of the natives
have used our well since we came, but we could not find any other.

<p>The following day was Sunday. What a scene our camp would have
presented to-day had these reptiles murdered us! It does not strike the
traveller in the wilderness, amongst desert scenes and hostile Indians,
as necessary that he should desire the neighbourhood of a temple, or
even be in a continual state of prayer, yet we worship Nature, or the
God of Nature, in our own way; and although we have no chapel or church
to go to, yet we are always in a temple, which a Scottish poet has so
beautifully described as &ldquo;The Temple of Nature.&rdquo; He
says:&mdash;

<p class="poem">&ldquo;Talk not of temples; there is one,
<br>Built without hands, to mankind given; 
<br>Its lamps are the meridian sun,
<br>And the bright stars of heaven.
<br>Its walls are the cerulean sky,
<br>Its floor the earth so green and fair; 
<br>Its dome is vast immensity:
<br>All nature worships there.&rdquo;

<p>We, of a surety, have none of the grander features of Nature to
admire; but the same Almighty Power which smote out the vast Andean
Ranges yet untrod, has left traces of its handywork here. Even the great
desert in which we have so long been buried must suggest to the
reflecting mind either God's perfectly effected purpose, or His
purposely effected neglect; and, though I have here and there found
places where scanty supplies of the element of water were to be found,
yet they are at such enormous distances apart, and the regions in which
they exist are of so utterly worthless a kind, that it seems to be
intended by the great Creator that civilised beings should never
re-enter here. And then our thoughts must naturally wander to the
formation and creation of those mighty ships of the desert, that alone
could have brought us here, and by whose strength and incomprehensible
powers of endurance, only are we enabled to leave this desert behind. In
our admiration of the creature, our thoughts are uplifted in reverence
and worship to the Designer and Creator of such things, adapted, no
doubt, by a wise selection from an infinite variety of living forms, for
myriads of creative periods, and with a foreknowledge that such
instruments would be requisite for the intelligent beings of a future
time, to traverse those areas of the desert earth that it had pleased
Him in wisdom to permit to remain secluded from the more lovely places
of the world and the familiar haunts of civilised man. Here, too, we
find in this fearful waste, this howling wilderness, this country vast
and desert idle, places scooped out of the solid rock, and the mighty
foundations of the round world laid bare, that the lower organism of
God's human family may find their proper sustenance; but truly the curse
must have gone forth more fearfully against them, and with a vengeance
must it have been proclaimed, by the sweat of their brows must they
obtain their bread. No doubt it was with the intention of obtaining
ours, thus reaping the harvest of unfurrowed fields, that these natives
were induced to make so murderous an attack upon us. We neither saw nor
heard anything more of our sable enemies, and on the 18th we departed
out of their coasts. This watering place, Ularring, is situated in
latitude 29&deg; 35&acute;, and longitude 120&deg; 31&acute;
4&acute;&acute;.

<hr>

<h4><a name="ch4.4">CHAPTER 4.4. FROM 18TH OCTOBER TO 18TH NOVEMBER, 1875.</a></h4>
<blockquote>
Depart from Ularring.
Re-enter scrubs.
Scrubs more dense.
A known point.
Magnetic rocks.
Lowans' eggs.
Numbers of the birds.
Crows, hawks.
Natives and water.
Induce natives to decamp.
Unusually vigorous growth of scrubs.
Alec sights Mount Churchman.
Bronze-winged pigeons.
Pigeon Rocks.
Depart.
Edge of a cliff.
Mount Churchman in view.
Some natives arrive.
A wandering pet.
Lake Moore.
Rock-holes.
Strike old dray tracks.
An outlying sheep-station.
The first white man seen.
Dinner of mutton.
Exploring at an end.
Civilisation once more.
Tootra.
All sorts and conditions come to interview us.
A monastery.
A feu-de-joie.
The first telegraph station.
Congratulatory messages.
Intimations of receptions.
A triumphal march.
Messrs. Clunes Brothers.
An address.
Culham.
White ladies.
Newcastle.
A triumphal arch.
A fine tonic.
Tommy's speech.
Unscientific profanity.
Guildford on the Swan.
Arrival at Perth.
Reception by the Mayor.
The city decorated.
Arrival at the Town Hall.
A shower of garlands.
A beautiful address.
A public reception at Fremantle.
Return to Perth.
And festivities.
Remarks.
</blockquote>
<h5><a name="i37">ILLUSTRATION 37</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t37.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>FORCING A PASSAGE THROUGH THE SCRUBS IN WESTERN AUSTRALIA.</h5>

<p>On the 18th we departed. Mount Churchman was now not much more than
150 miles away. I felt sure we should reach it at last. It was late in
the day when we left the camp, and immediately re-entered the dense and
odious scrubs, which were more than usually thick. We passed a small
salt-lake bed on our right, and made good twenty miles by night, which
fell with cold and wind and threatened rain. At three or four miles the
next morning, we saw some bare granite rocks to the south, and noticed
the tops of some low ranges to the north, but these were partially
hidden by some nearer ridges. The summit of one of these was a mass of
exposed rock, similar in appearance to Ularring and remarkably high, but
as it was five or six miles away from our line, which was now nearly
west, we did not visit it. At fifteen miles from camp we sighted from
the top of an undulation in the scrub, a pointed hill a little south of
west, also another higher and longer, and lying more southerly. We could
not reach the pointed hill by night. The country is now more densely
scrubby than ever, and although we toiled the whole day, we only made
good twenty-four miles. Upon nearing the hill the following morning we
saw some grass-trees and passed between two salt-lakes. At ten miles Mr.
Young and I were upon the top of the hill; the scrubs surrounding it
were so terribly thick that I thought we should have to chop our way
through them, and we had the greatest difficulty in getting the caravan
to move along at all. I was much surprised at the view I obtained here;
in the first place as we were now gradually approaching Mount Churchman,
the hill to the south was, or should have been, Mount Jackson, but
according to my chart there were no hills visible in any easterly or
northeasterly direction from Mount Jackson, whereas from the range to
the south, not only the hill I was upon, but all the others in various
directions, must also have been seen from it. This was rather puzzling,
and the only way I could account for the anomaly was that either Gregory
had never ascended Mount Jackson at all, though according to his map he
calls the whole eastern country beyond it sand plains, or these hills
have been thrown up since 1846. The latter I cannot believe. The
composition of this hill was almost iron itself, and there were some
fused stones like volcanic slag upon it. It was too magnetic for working
angles with a compass; it was between 500 and 600 feet above the
surrounding regions. The horizon from east, north-east, round by north,
thence to the west and south, was bounded by low ranges, detached into
seven groups; the white beds of small lakes were visible running up to
the northern, or north eastern group, the intervening country being, as
usual, all scrubs, which grew even to the summits of the hills. The view
from this hill was enough to terrify the spectator; my only consolation
in gazing at so desolate a scene, was that my task was nearly
accomplished, and nothing should stop me now. A second pointed hill lay
nearly west, and we pushed on to this, but could not reach it by night.

<p>To-day we managed to get thirty-four Lowans' eggs, yesterday we had
secured twenty-seven. These birds swarm in these scrubs, and their eggs
form a principal item in the daily fare of the natives during the laying
season. We seldom see the birds, but so long as we get the eggs I
suppose we have no great cause of complaint. In the morning we reached
and ascended the second hill. Some other hills a few miles away ended
nearly west, and bare granite rocks appeared a few miles beyond them,
which I determined to visit. This hill was of similar formation to the
last-described. The far horizon to the west being all scrub, Mount
Churchman should have been visible, but it was not. The sight of the
country from any of these hills is truly frightful; it seemed as though
the scrubs were to end only with our journey. On descending, we pushed
on for the rocks, and reached them in twelve miles from the last camp.
As we neared them, we could distinguish a large extent of bare rock, and
it seemed likely that we should find water, as we saw a number of crows
and hawks, and we soon became aware of the presence of natives also, for
they began to yell so soon as they perceived our approach. A well was
soon found, and our camp fixed beside it. The natives were numerous
here, but whether they were our old enemies or not I could not say; yet
I fancied I recognised one or two among them, and to let them see that
our ammunition was not yet exhausted, I fired my rifle in the air. This
had the effect of inducing them, whether friends or foes, to decamp, and
we were not troubled with them while we were here. I did not wish for a
repetition of the Ularring affair. The well was shallow, with a good
supply of water, and there were a few scores of acres of open ground
around the rocks, though the scrubs came as close as possible. This spot
was seventy-seven miles from Ularring; our well was situated at what may
be called the north-east corner of these rocks; at the south-west end
there is another and larger valley, where I saw two wells. On Sunday,
the 22nd of October, we rested here. The old lame cow is still very bad,
I am afraid she cannot travel much farther. Yesterday and to-day were
rather warm, the thermometer indicating 94 and 96&deg; in the shade. The
upheaval of the few hills we have lately passed seems to have induced an
unusually vigorous growth of scrubs, for they are now denser and more
hideous than ever.

<p>Alec Ross stated that he had seen, from the last hill, another, far
away, due west, but nobody else saw it. If such a hill exists it is over
eighty miles away from where seen, and it must be Mount Churchman. No
views to any distance could be had from these rocks, as the undulations
of the scrubs occur continuously throughout the desert, at almost
regular intervals of a few miles, from seven to twenty.

<p>After dinner on the 23rd I had intended to leave this place, but upon
mustering the camels I found that not only was the lame cow worse, but
another of the cows had calved, and our family was increased by the
advent of a little cow-calf about the size of a rabbit. This prevented
our departure. The calf was killed, and the mother remained with her
dead offspring, whereby she comprehended her loss, and this will prevent
her endeavouring to return to it after we leave. We obtained a good many
bronze-winged pigeons here, and I called the place the Pigeon Rocks.
Their position is in latitude 29&deg; 58&acute; 4&acute;&acute; and
longitude 119&deg; 15&acute; 3&acute;&acute;. To-day the thermometer
rose to 100&deg; in the shade, and at night a very squally thunderstorm,
coming from the west, agreeably cooled the atmosphere, although no rain
fell. On the 24th we left the Pigeon Rocks, still steering west, and
travelled twenty-five miles through the dense scrubs, with an occasional
break, on which a few of the yellow-bark gum-trees grew. They are
generally of a vigorous and well grown habit. The poor old lame cow
followed as usual, but arrived at the camp a long while after us. The
next day we progressed twenty-five miles to the westward, and at evening
we tore through a piece of horrible scrub, or thickets, and arrived at
the edge of a cliff which stood, perpendicularly, 200 feet over the
surrounding country. This we had to circumnavigate in order to descend.

<p>Right on our course, being in the proper latitude, and twenty-seven
or twenty-eight miles away, was a small hill, the object I had traversed
so many hundreds of miles of desert to reach, and which I was delighted
to know, was Mount Churchman. The country between the cliff and Mount
Churchman was filled to overflowing with the densest of scrubs; Nature
seemed to have tried how much of it she could possibly jam into this
region. We encamped at the foot of the cliff. We got several
Lowans'&mdash;or, as the West Australians call them, Gnows'&mdash;eggs,
thirty yesterday, and forty-five to-day. At night the old lame cow did
not arrive at the camp, nor was she with the mob the next morning; I
wished her to remain at the Pigeon Rocks, but of course she persisted in
following her kindred so long as she could, but now she has remained
behind of her own accord, she will no doubt return there, and if she
recovers will most probably go back to Beltana by herself, perhaps
exploring a new line of country on the way.

<h5><a name="i38">ILLUSTRATION 38</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t38.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>FIRST VIEW OF MT. CHURCHMAN.</h5>

<p>The following day we hoped to reach Mount Churchman, but the scrubs
were so frightful we could not get there by night, though we travelled
without stopping for twelve hours. To-day we got only twenty eggs.
To-night and last night a slight dew fell, the first for a long time.
Early on the morning of the 27th of October I stood upon the summit of
Mount Churchman; and, though no mention whatever is made upon the chart
of the existence of water there, we found a native well which supplied
all our wants. In the afternoon some natives made their appearance; they
were partly clothed. The party consisted of an oldish man, a very smart
and good-looking young fellow, and a handsome little boy. The young
fellow said his own name was Charlie, the boy's Albert, and the older
one's Billy. It is said a good face is the best letter of introduction,
but Charlie had a better one, as I had lost a little ivory-handled
penknife on the road yesterday, and they had come across, and followed
our tracks, and picked it up. Charlie, without a moment's questioning,
brought it to me; he was too polite, too agreeable altogether, and
evidently knew too much; he knew the country all the way to Perth, and
also to Champion Bay. It occurred to me that he had been somebody's pet
black boy, that had done something, and had bolted away. He told me the
nearest station to us was called Nyngham, Mount Singleton on the chart,
in a north-west direction. The station belonged, he said, to a Mr. Cook,
and that we could reach it in four days, but as I wished to make
south-westerly for Perth, I did not go that way. The day was very warm,
thermometer 99&deg; in shade.

<h5><a name="i39">ILLUSTRATION 39</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t39.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>THE FIRST WHITE MAN MET IN WESTERN AUSTRALIA.</h5>

<p>This mount is called Geelabing on the chart, but Charlie did not know
it by that name. He and the other two came on and camped with us that
night. Our course was nearly south-west; we only travelled eleven miles.
The following day our three friends departed, as they said, to visit
Nyngham, while we pursued our own course, and reached the shores of the
dry salt-lake Moore. In about thirty miles we found some rock
water-holes, and encamped on the edge of the lake, where we saw old
horse and cattle tracks. We next crossed the lake-bed, which was seven
miles wide. No doubt there is brine in some parts of it, but where I
crossed it was firm and dry. We left it on the 30th of October, and
travelling upon a course nearly west-south-west, we struck some old dray
tracks, at a dried-up spring, on the 3rd of November, which I did not
follow, as they ran eastwards. From there I turned south, and early on
the 4th we came upon an outlying sheep station; its buildings consisting
simply of a few bark-gunyahs. There was not even a single, rude hut in
the dingle; blacks' and whites' gunyahs being all alike. Had I not seen
some clothes, cooking utensils, etc., at one of them, I should have
thought that only black shepherds lived there. A shallow well, and whip
for raising the water into a trough, was enclosed by a fence, and we
watered our camels there. The sheep and shepherd were away, and although
we were desperately hungry for meat, not having had any for a month, we
prepared to wait until the shepherd should come home in the evening.
While we were thinking over these matters, a white man came riding up.
He apparently did not see us, nor did his horse either, until they were
quite close; then his horse suddenly stopped and snorted, and he shouted
out, &ldquo;Holy sailor, what's that?&rdquo; He was so extraordinarily
surprised at the appearance of the caravan that he turned to gallop
away. However, I walked to, and reassured him, and told him who I was
and where I had come from. Of course he was an Irishman, and he said,
&ldquo;Is it South Austhralia yez come from? Shure I came from there
meself. Did yez crass any say? I don't know, sure I came by Albany; I
never came the way you've come at all. Shure, I wilcome yez, in the name
of the whole colony. I saw something about yez in the paper not long
ago. Can I do anything for yez? This is not my place, but the shepherd
is not far; will I go and find him?&rdquo; &ldquo;Faith, you may,&rdquo;
I said, &ldquo;and get him to bring the flock back, so that we can get a
sheep for dinner.&rdquo; And away he went, and soon returned with the
shepherd, sheep, black assistants and their wives; and we very soon had
a capital meal of excellent mutton. While it was in process of cooking
the shepherd despatched a black boy to the nearest farm, or settlement,
for coffee, butter, sugar, eggs, etc. The messenger returned at night
with everything. Exploring had now come to an end; roads led to, and
from, all the other settled districts of the colony, and we were in the
neighbourhood of civilisation once more. This out-station was the
farthest attempt at settlement towards the east, in this part of the
colony. It was called Tootra, and belonged to the Messrs. Clunes
Brothers, who live lower down the country.

<p>On the 6th of November we passed by the farm where the black boy had
got the coffee, sugar, etc.; it belonged to a Mr. Joyce. We did not stay
there very long, the people did not seem to know what to make of, and
never said anything to, us. That evening we reached Mr. Clarke's
homestead, called Inderu, where we were treated with the greatest
kindness by every member of the family. They gave us eggs, butter, jam,
and spirits, and despatched a messenger with a letter to Sir Thomas
Elder's agent at Fremantle. Here we were also met by young Mr. Lefroy,
son of the Hon. O'Grady Lefroy, Treasurer and acting Colonial Secretary
for the Colony, who took us off to his station, Walebing, where we
remained some days, thoroughly enjoying a recruiting at so agreeable a
place. We had to depart at last, and were next entertained by Mr. and
Mrs. McPherson, as we passed by their station called Glentromie. So soon
as the news spread amongst the settlers that a caravan of camels had
arrived, bushmen and girls, boys and children, came galloping from all
parts, while their elders drove whatever vehicles they could lay their
hands on, to come and see the new arrivals. The camels were quite
frightened at the people galloping about them. Our next reception was at
a Spanish Benedictine Monastery and Home for natives, called New Norcia.
This Monastery was presided over by the Right Reverend Lord Bishop
Salvado, the kindest and most urbane of holy fathers. We were saluted on
our arrival, by a regular feu-de-joie, fired off by the natives and
half-castes belonging to the mission. The land and property of this
establishment is some of the best in the Colony. Here was the first
telegraph station we had reached, and I received a number of
congratulatory telegrams from most of the leading gentlemen in Perth;
from His Excellency the Governor's private secretary, the Press, and my
brother-explorer Mr. John Forrest.

<h5><a name="i40">ILLUSTRATION 40</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t40.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>ARRIVAL AT CULHAM (SAMUEL PHILLIPS'S.)</h5>

<p>Intimations of intended receptions, by corporations, and addresses to
be presented, with invitations to banquets and balls, poured in, in
overwhelming numbers; so that on leaving the Monastery I knew the series
of ordeals that were in store for me. His Excellency the Governor, Sir
William Robinson, K.C.M.G., most kindly despatched Mr. John Forrest with
a carriage to meet us. From the Monastery our triumphal march began. The
appearance of a camel caravan in any English community, away from camel
countries, is likely to awaken the curiosity of every one; but it is
quite a matter of doubt whether we, or the camels caused the greater
sensation as we advanced. A few miles from the monastery we passed the
station of Messrs. Clunes Brothers, at whose farthest out-station we had
first come upon a settlement. These gentlemen were most kind and
hospitable, and would not accept any payment for two fine wether sheep
which we had eaten. A short distance from their residence we passed a
district country school-house, presided over by Mr. J.M. Butler, and
that gentleman, on behalf of Messrs. Clunes, the residents of the
locality, his scholars, and himself, presented us with a congratulatory
address. Pushing onwards towards the metropolis we arrived, on Saturday,
November 13th, at Mr. Samuel Phillips's station, Culham, where that
gentleman invited us to remain during Sunday. Here, for the first time,
we had the pleasure of enjoying the society of ladies, being introduced
to Mrs. Phillips, her sister-in-law Mrs. Fane, and their several
daughters. The whole family combined to make us welcome, and as much at
home as possible. Here also Mr. Forrest joined us, and welcomed us to
his own native land. The camels were put into an excellent paddock, and
enjoyed themselves almost as much as their masters. Culham is nine or
ten miles from Newcastle, the first town site we should reach. We were
invited thither by the Mayor and Council, or rather the Chairman and
Council of the Municipality.

<p>At Newcastle we were received under a triumphal arch, and the
Chairman presented us with an address. We were then conducted to a
sumptuous banquet. Near the conclusion, the Chairman rose to propose our
healths, etc.; he then gratified us by speaking disparagingly of us and
our journey; he said he didn't see what we wanted to come over here for,
that they had plenty of explorers of their own, etc. This was something
like getting a hostile native's spear stuck into one's body, and
certainly a fine tonic after the champagne. Several gentlemen in the
hall protested against these remarks. I made a short reply; Mr. Tietkens
put a little humour into his, and all coolness wore away, especially
when Tommy made a speech. He was a great favourite with the
&ldquo;General,&rdquo; and was well looked after during the repast. When
we had all said our say, Tommy was urged to speak; he was very bashful,
and said, &ldquo;I don't know what to say;&rdquo; the people near him
said, &ldquo;Never mind, Tommy, say anything;&rdquo; so he rose in his
seat and simply said &ldquo;Anything,&rdquo; whereupon everybody
laughed, and joviality was restored. In the evening a ball took place in
our honour; the old Chairman went to bed, and we all danced till
morning. Never after did we hear anything but compliments and
commendations, as what was then said was against the sense of the whole
Colony. The next town we arrived at was Guildford; on the road the
caravan passed by a splitters' camp, the men there came round the
camels, and as usual stared wide-eyed with amazement. One of them begged
Alec Ross, who was conducting the camels, to wait till a mate of theirs
who was away returned, so that he might see them; but as we were bound
to time and had our stages arranged so that we should reach Perth by a
certain time, this could not be done, and the camels went on. By-and-by
a man came galloping up as near as his horse would come to the camels,
and called out: &ldquo;Hi there, hold on, you *** wretches; do you think
I'd a galloped after yer ter see such little *** things as them? why,
they ain't no bigger nor a *** horse [there were camels seven feet high
in the mob]; why, I thought they was as big as *** clouds, or else I'd
never a come all this *** way to see them,&rdquo; etc. He interspersed
this address with many adjectives, but as nobody took the slightest
notice of him, he started away, banning and blaspheming as he went, and
for an uneducated, unscientific West Australian, his, was not a bad
effort at profanity.

<h5><a name="i41">ILLUSTRATION 41</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t41.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>ARRIVAL AT PERTH.</h5>

<h5><a name="i42">ILLUSTRATION 42</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t42.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>ARRIVAL AT THE TOWN HALL, PERTH, WESTERN AUSTRALIA.</h5>

<p>At Guildford, a town-site on the Swan, we were publicly received by
the Mayor, Mr. Spurling, the Town Council, various bodies and lodges,
and a detachment of volunteers. We were presented with addresses from
the Town Council, and Mr. Spurling made a most handsome speech, which
removed any remains of the taste of the Newcastle tonic. The Lodges of
Oddfellows and Good Templars also presented us with addresses. The
Chairman of the latter made a little Good Templar capital out of the
fact of our having achieved such a great feat entirely on water. To this
I replied, that it was true we had accomplished our journey on water,
and very little of it, but that if we had had anything stronger we
should certainly have drunk it, if only to make our water supply last
the longer. Then a banquet was spread, which was attended also by
ladies, and was a most agreeable entertainment, and the evening wound up
with a ball. Guildford being only ten or eleven miles from Perth, at
about three p.m. of the next day we approached the city, riding our
camels, and having the whole of the caravan in regular desert-marching
order. A great number of people came out, both riding and driving, to
meet us, and escorted us into the city; Mr. Forrest was now on horseback
and riding alongside of me.

<p>After traversing the long wooden causeway that bridges the Swan, we
soon reached the city bounds, and were met by the Mayor, Mr. George
Shenton, and the other members of the City Council, companies of
volunteers lined the streets on either side, and the various bodies of
Freemasons, Oddfellows, and Good Templars, accompanied by the brass band
of the latter, took a part in the procession. A great crowd of citizens
assembled, and the balconies of the houses on both sides were thronged
with the fair sex, and garlands of flowers were showered down upon us.
The streets of the city were decorated with flags and streamers, and
scrolls of welcome were stretched across. The procession moved along to
the Town Hall amidst general cheering. We were ushered into the spacious
hall, and placed on a raised platform, then we were introduced to most
of the gentlemen present. The Mayor then addressed me in most eulogistic
terms, and presented me with an address on vellum, beautifully
illuminated and engrossed, on behalf of the corporation and citizens of
Perth, congratulating myself, and party on our successful exploration
across the unknown interior from South Australia, and warmly expressing
the good feelings of welcome entertained by the citizens towards us.

<p>After this a round of festivities set in; among these were a public
banquet and ball in our honour by the Mayor and Corporation of the city
of Perth and a dinner and ball at Government House. A public reception
also awaited us at Fremantle, on the coast. On our arrival at the long,
high, wooden structure that spans the broad mouth of the river at
Fremantle, we were again met by eager crowds. Mr. Forrest rode near me
on this occasion also. When entering Perth, I had a great deal of
trouble to induce my riding-camel, Reechy, to lead, but when entering
Fremantle she fairly jibbed, and I had to walk and lead her, so that I
was hidden in the crowd, and Mr. Tietkens, coming next to me, appeared
to be the leader, as his camel went all right. The balconies and
verandahs here were also thronged with ladies, who showered down heaps
of garlands while they cheered. I was completely hidden, and they threw
all the flowers down on Tietkens, so that he got all the honour from the
ladies. Here another beautiful address was presented to me by Mr. John
Thomas, the Chairman of the Town Council, and a public banquet was given
us. On returning to Perth, we had invitations from private individuals
to balls, dinners, pic-nics, boating and riding parties, and the wife of
the Honourable O'Grady Lefroy started the ball giving immediately after
that at Government House. Mr. Forrest gave us a dinner at the Weld Club.

<p>Since our arrival in the settled parts of Western Australia, we have
had every reason to believe that our welcome was a genuine one,
everybody having treated us with the greatest kindness and courtesy. His
Excellency the Governor ordered that all our expenses down the country,
from where Mr. Forrest met us, should be defrayed by the Government; and
having been so welcomed by the settlers on our arrival at each place, I
had no occasion to expend a penny on our march through the settled
districts of the Colony.

<p>In concluding the tale of a long exploration, a few remarks are
necessary. In the first place I travelled during the expedition, in
covering the ground, 2500 miles; but unfortunately found no areas of
country suitable for settlement. This was a great disappointment to me,
as I had expected far otherwise; but the explorer does not make the
country, he must take it as he finds it. His duty is to penetrate it,
and although the greatest honour is awarded and the greatest recompense
given to the discoverer of the finest regions, yet it must be borne in
mind, that the difficulties of traversing those regions cannot be nearly
so great as those encountered by the less fortunate traveller who finds
himself surrounded by heartless deserts. The successful penetration of
such a region must, nevertheless, have its value, both in a commercial
and a geographical sense, as it points out to the future emigrant or
settler, those portions of our continent which he should rigorously
avoid. It never could have entered into any one's calculations that I
should have to force my way through a region that rolls its
scrub-enthroned, and fearful distance out, for hundreds of leagues in
billowy undulations, like the waves of a timbered sea, and that the
expedition would have to bore its way, like moles in the earth, for so
long, through these interminable scrubs, with nothing to view, and less
to cheer. Our success has traced a long and a dreary road through this
unpeopled waste, like that to a lion's abode, from whence no steps are
retraced. The caravan for months was slowly but surely plodding on,
under those trees with which it has pleased Providence to bedeck this
desolate waste. But this expedition, as organised, equipped, and
intended by Sir Thomas Elder, was a thing of such excellence and
precision, it moved along apparently by mechanical action; and it seemed
to me, as we conquered these frightful deserts by its power, like
playing upon some new fine instrument, as we wandered, like rumour,
&ldquo;from the Orient to the Drooping West,&rdquo;&mdash;

<p class="poem">&ldquo;From where the Torrens wanders,
<br>'Midst corn and vines and flowers,
<br>To where fair Perth still lifts to heaven
<br>Her diadem of towers.&rdquo;

<p>The labours of the expedition ended only at the sea at Fremantle, the
seaport of the west; and after travelling under those trees for months,
from eastern lands through a region accurst, we were greeted at last by
old Ocean's roar; Ocean, the strongest of creation's sons, &ldquo;that
rolls the wild, profound, eternal bass in Nature's anthem.&rdquo; The
officers, Mr. Tietkens and Mr. Young, except for occasional outbursts of
temper, and all the other members of the expedition, acted in every way
so as to give me satisfaction; and when I say that the personnel of the
expedition behaved as well as the camels, I cannot formulate greater
praise.

<p>It will readily be believed that I did not undertake a fourth
expedition in Australia without a motive. Sir Thomas Elder had ever been
kind to me since I had known him, and my best thanks were due to him for
enabling me to accomplish so difficult an undertaking; but there were
others also I wished to please; and I have done my best endeavours upon
this arduous expedition, with the hope that I might &ldquo;win the wise,
who frowned before to smile at last.&rdquo;

<hr>

<h5><a name="m6">Map 6</a></h5>
<h5>Fifth Expedition, 1876.</h5>

<h3><a name="book5">BOOK 5.</a></h3>

<h4>CHAPTER 5.1. FROM 18TH NOVEMBER, 1875, TO 10TH APRIL, 1876.</h4>
<blockquote>
Remarks on the last expedition.
Departure of my two officers.
Expedition leaves Perth.
Invited to York.
Curiosity to see the caravan.
Saleh and Tommy's yarns.
Tipperary. 
Northam. 
Newcastle again.
A pair of watch(ful) guards.
St. Joseph's.
Messrs. Clunes.
The Benedictine monastery.
Amusing incident.
A new road.
Berkshire Valley.
Triumphal arch.
Sandal-wood.
Sheep poison.
Cornamah.
A survey party.
Irwin House.
Dongarra.
An address presented.
A French gentleman.
Greenough Flats.
Another address.
Tommy's tricks.
Champion Bay.
Palmer's camp.
A bull-camel poisoned.
The Bowes.
Yuin.
A native desperado captured.
His escape.
Cheangwa.
Native girls and boys.
Depart for the interior.
Natives follow us.
Cooerminga.
The Sandford. 
Moodilah. 
Barloweerie Peak.
Pia Spring.
Mount Murchison.
Good pastoral country.
Farewell to the last white man.
</blockquote>
<p>After having crossed the unknown central interior, and having
traversed such a terrible region to accomplish that feat, it might be
reasonably supposed that my labours as an explorer would cease, and that
I might disband the expedition and send the members, camels, and
equipment back to Adelaide by ship, especially as in my closing remarks
on my last journey I said that I had accomplished the task I had
undertaken, and effected the object of my expedition. This was certainly
the case, but I regarded what had been done as only the half of my
mission; and I was as anxious now to complete my work as I had been to
commence it, when Sir Thomas Elder started me out. The remaining portion
was no less than the completion of the line I had been compelled to
leave unfinished by the untimely loss of Gibson, during my horse
expedition of 1874. My readers will remember that, having pushed out
west from my depot at Fort McKellar, in the Rawlinson Range, I had
sighted another line of hills, which I had called the Alfred and Marie
Range, and which I had been unable to reach. It was therefore my present
wish and intention to traverse that particular region, and to connect my
present explorations with my former ones with horses. By travelling
northwards until I reached the proper latitude, I might make an eastern
line to the Rawlinson Range. That Gibson's Desert existed, well I knew;
but how far west from the Rawlinson it actually extended, was the
problem I now wished to solve. As Sir Thomas Elder allowed me carte
blanche, I began a fresh journey with this object. The incidents of that
journey this last book will record.

<p>My readers may imagine us enjoying all the gaieties and pleasures
such a city as Perth, in Western Australia, could supply. Myself and two
officers were quartered at the Weld Club; Alec Ross and the others had
quarters at the United Service Club Hotel nearly opposite; and taking it
altogether, we had very good times indeed. The fountains of champagne
seemed loosened throughout the city during my stay; and the wine
merchants became nervous lest the supply of what then became known as
&ldquo;Elder wine&rdquo; should get exhausted. I paid a visit down the
country southwards, to Bunbury, The Vasse, and other places of interest
in that quarter. Our residence at Perth was extended to two months.
Saleh was in his glory. The camels were out in a paddock, where they did
not do very well, as there was only one kind of acacia tree upon which
they could browse. Occasionally Saleh had to take two or three riding
camels to Government House, as it became quite the thing, for a number
of young ladies to go there and have a ride on them; and on those days
Saleh was resplendent. On every finger, he wore a ring, he had new,
white and coloured, silk and satin, clothes, covered with gilt braid;
two silver watches, one in each side-pocket of his tunic; and two jockey
whips, one in each hand. He used to tell people that he brought the
expedition over, and when he went back he was sure Sir Thomas Elder
would fit him out with an expedition of his own. Tommy was quite a young
coloured swell, too; he would go about the town, fraternise with people,
treat them to drinks at any hotel, and tell the landlord, when asked for
payment, that the liquor was for the expedition. Every now and again I
had little bills presented to me for refreshments supplied to Mr.
Oldham. Alec Ross expended a good deal of his money in making presents
to young ladies; and Peter Nicholls was quite a victim to the fair sex
of his class. I managed to escape these terrible dangers, though I can't
tell how.

<p>Both my officers left for South Australia by the mail steamer. Mr.
Tietkens was the more regretted. I did not wish him to leave, but he
said he had private business to attend to. I did not request Mr. Young
to accompany me on my return journey, so they went to Adelaide together.
The remainder of the party stayed until the 13th of January, 1876, when
the caravan departed from Perth on its homeward route to South
Australia, having a new line of unexplored country to traverse before we
could reach our goal. My projected route was to lie nearly 400 miles to
the north of the one by which I arrived; and upon leaving Perth we
travelled up the country, through the settled districts, to Champion
Bay, and thence to Mount Gould, close to the River Murchison.

<p>Before leaving the city I was invited by the Mayor and Municipality
of the town of York, to visit that locality; this invitation I, of
course, accepted, as I was supposed to be out on show. My party now
consisted of only four other members besides myself, namely, young Alec
Ross, now promoted to the post of second in command, Peter Nicholls,
still cook, Saleh, and Tommy Oldham. At York we were entertained, upon
our arrival, at a dinner. York was a very agreeable little agricultural
town, the next in size to Fremantle. Bushmen, farmers, and country
people generally, flocked in crowds to see both us and the camels. It
was amusing to watch them, and to hear the remarks they made. Saleh and
Tommy used to tell the most outrageous yarns about them; how they could
travel ten miles an hour with their loads, how they carried water in
their humps, that the cows ate their calves, that the riding bulls would
tear their riders' legs off with their teeth if they couldn't get rid of
them in any other way. These yarns were not restricted to York, they
were always going on.

<p>The day after leaving York we passed Mr. Samuel Burgess's
establishment, called Tipperary, where we were splendidly entertained at
a dinner, with his brothers and family. The Messrs. Burgess are among
the oldest and wealthiest residents in the Colony. From hence we
travelled towards a town-site called Northam, and from thence to
Newcastle, where we were entertained upon our first arrival. A lady in
Newcastle, Mrs. Dr. Mayhew, presented me with a pair of little spotted
puppies, male and female, to act for us, as she thought, as watch(ful)
guards against the attacks of hostile natives in the interior. And
although they never distinguished themselves very much in that
particular line, the little creatures were often a source of amusement
in the camp; and I shall always cherish a feeling of gratitude to the
donor for them.

<p>At ten miles from Newcastle is Culham, the hospitable residence of
the well-known and universally respected Squire Phillips, of an old
Oxford family in England, and a very old settler in the Colony of
Western Australia. On our arrival at Culham we were, as we had formerly
been, most generously received; and the kindness and hospitality we met,
induced us to remain for some days. When leaving I took young Johnny
Phillips with me to give him an insight into the mysteries of camel
travelling, so far as Champion Bay. On our road up the country we met
with the greatest hospitality from every settler, whose establishment
the caravan passed. At every station they vied with each other as to who
should show us the greatest kindness. It seems invidious to mention
names, and yet it might appear as though I were ungrateful if I seemed
to forget my old friends; for I am a true believer in the dictum, of all
black crimes, accurst ingratitude's the worst. Leaving Culham, we first
went a few miles to Mr. Beare's station and residence, whither Squire
Phillips accompanied us. Our next friend was Mr. Butler, at the St.
Joseph's schoolhouse, where he had formerly presented me with an
address. Next we came to the Messrs. Clunes, where we remained half an
hour to refresh, en route for New Norcia, the Spanish Catholic
Benedictine Monastery presided over by the good Bishop Salvado, and
where we remained for the night; the Bishop welcoming us as cordially as
before. Our next halt was at the McPhersons', Glentromie, only four or
five miles from the Mission. Our host here was a fine, hospitable old
Scotchman, who has a most valuable and excellent property. From
Glentromie we went to the Hon. O'Grady Lefroy's station, Walebing, where
his son, Mr. Henry Lefroy, welcomed us again as he had done so cordially
on our first visit. At every place where we halted, country people
continually came riding and driving in to see the camels, and an amusing
incident occurred here. Young Lefroy had a tidy old housekeeper, who was
quite the grande dame amongst the young wives and daughters of the
surrounding farmers. I remained on Sunday, and, as usual, a crowd of
people came. The camp was situated 200 yards from the buildings, and
covered a good space of ground, the camels always being curled round
into a circle whenever we camped; the huge bags and leather-covered
boxes and pack-saddles filling up most of the space. On this Sunday
afternoon a number of women, and girls, were escorted over by the
housekeeper. Alec and I had come to the camp just before them, and we
watched as they came up very slowly and cautiously to the camp. I was on
the point of going over to them, and saying that I was sorry the camels
were away feeding, but something Alec Ross said, restrained me, and we
waited&mdash;the old housekeeper doing the show. To let the others see
how clever she was, she came right up to the loads, the others
following, and said, &ldquo;Ah, the poor things!&rdquo; One of the new
arrivals said, &ldquo;Oh, the poor things, how still and quiet they
are,&rdquo; the girls stretching their necks, and nearly staring their
eyes out. Alec and I were choking with laughter, and I went up and said,
&ldquo;My dear creature, these are not the camels, these are the loads;
the camels are away in the bush, feeding.&rdquo; The old lady seemed
greatly annoyed, while the others, in chorus, said, &ldquo;Oh, oh! what,
ain't those the camels there?&rdquo; etc. By that time the old lady had
vanished.

<p>Up to this point we had returned upon the road we had formerly
travelled to Perth; now we left our old line, and continued up the
telegraph line, and main overland road, from Perth to Champion Bay. Here
we shortly entered what in this Colony is called the Victoria Plains
district. I found the whole region covered with thick timber, if not
actual scrubs; here and there was a slight opening covered with a thorny
vegetation three or four feet high. It struck me as being such a queer
name, but I subsequently found that in Western Australia a plain means
level country, no matter how densely covered with scrubs; undulating
scrubs are thickets, and so on. Several times I was mystified by people
telling me they knew there were plains to the east, which I had found to
be all scrubs, with timber twenty to thirty feet high densely packed on
it. The next place we visited, was Mr. James Clinche's establishment at
Berkshire Valley, and our reception there was most enthusiastic. A
triumphal arch was erected over the bridge that spanned the creek upon
which the place was located, the arch having scrolls with mottoes waving
and flags flying in our honour. Here was feasting and flaring with a
vengeance. Mr. Clinche's hospitality was unbounded. We were pressed to
remain a week, or month, or a year; but we only rested one day, the
weather being exceedingly hot. Mr. Clinche had a magnificent flower and
fruit garden, with fruit-trees of many kinds en espalier; these, he
said, throve remarkably well. Mr. Clinche persisted in making me take
away several bottles of fluid, whose contents need not be specifically
particularised. Formerly the sandal-wood-tree of commerce abounded all
over the settled districts of Western Australia. Merchants and others in
Perth, Fremantle, York, and other places, were buyers for any quantity.
At his place Mr. Clinche had a huge stack of I know not how many hundred
tons. He informed me he usually paid about eight pounds sterling per
measurement ton. The markets were London, Hong Kong, and Calcutta. A
very profitable trade for many years was carried on in this article; the
supply is now very limited.

<p>There was a great deal of the poison-plant all over this country, not
the Gyrostemon, but a sheep-poisoning plant of the Gastrolobium family;
and I was always in a state of anxiety for fear the camels should eat
any of it. The shepherds in this Colony, whose flocks are generally not
larger than 500, are supposed to know every individual poison-plant on
their beat, and to keep their sheep off it; but with us, it was all
chance work, for we couldn't tie the camels up every night, and we could
not control them in what they should eat. Our next friends were a
brother of the McPherson at Glentromie and his wife. The name of this
property was Cornamah; there was a telegraph station at this place. Both
here and at Berkshire Valley Mrs. McPherson and Miss Clinche are the
operators. Next to this, we reached Mr. Cook's station, called Arrino,
where Mrs. Cook is telegraph mistress. Mr. Cook we had met at New
Norcia, on his way down to Perth. We had lunch at Arrino, and Mrs. Cook
gave me a sheep. I had, however, taken it out of one of their flocks the
night before, as we camped with some black shepherds and shepherdesses,
who were very pleased to see the camels, and called them emus, a name
that nearly all the West Australian natives gave them.

<p>After leaving Arrino we met Mr. Brooklyn and Mr. King, two Government
surveyors, at whose camp we rested a day. The heat was excessive, the
thermometer during that day going up 115&deg; in the shade. The
following day we reached a farm belonging to Mr. Goodwin, where we had a
drink of beer all round. That evening we reached an establishment called
Irwin House, on the Irwin River, formerly the residence of Mr. Lock
Burgess, who was in partnership there with Squire Phillips. Mr. Burgess
having gone to England, the property was leased to Mr. Fane, where we
again met Mrs. Fane and her daughters, whom we had first met at Culham.
This is a fine cattle run and farming property. From thence we went to
Dongarra, a town-site also on the Irwin. On reaching this river, we
found ourselves in one of the principal agricultural districts of
Western Australia, and at Dongarra we were met by a number of the
gentlemen of the district, and an address was presented to me by Mr.
Laurence, the Resident Magistrate. After leaving Dongarra, we were
entertained at his house by Mr. Bell; and here we met a French gentleman
of a strong Irish descent, with fine white eyes and a thick shock head,
of red hair; he gazed intently both at us and the camels. I don't know
which he thought the more uncouth of the two kinds of beasts. At last he
found sufficient English to say, &ldquo;Do dem tings goo faar in a
deayah, ehah?&rdquo; When he sat down to dinner with us, he put his
mutton chop on his hand, which he rested on his plate. The latter seemed
to be quite an unknown article of furniture to him, and yet I was told
his father was very well to do.

<p>The next town-site we reached was the Greenough&mdash;pronounced
Greenuff&mdash;Flats, being in another very excellent agricultural
district; here another address was presented to me, and we were
entertained at an excellent lunch. As usual, great numbers of people
came to inspect us, and the camels, the latter laying down with their
loads on previous to being let go. Often, when strangers would come too
near, some of the more timid camels would jump up instantly, and the
people not being on their guard, would often have torn faces and
bleeding noses before they could get out of the way. On this occasion a
tall, gaunt man and his wife, I supposed, were gazing at Tommy's riding
camel as she carried the two little dogs in bags, one on each side.
Tommy was standing near, trying to make her jump up, but she was too
quiet, and preferred lying down. Any how, Tommy would have his
joke&mdash;so, as the man who was gazing most intently at the pups said,
&ldquo;What's them things, young man?&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;Oh,
that's hee's pickaninnies&rdquo;&mdash;sex having no more existence in a
black boy's vocabulary than in a highlander's. Then the tall man said to
the wife, &ldquo;Oh, lord, look yer, see how they carries their
young.&rdquo; Only the pup's heads appeared, a string round the neck
keeping them in; &ldquo;but they looks like dogs too, don't they?&rdquo;
With that he put his huge face down, so as to gaze more intently at
them, when the little dog, who had been teased a good deal and had got
snappish, gave a growl and snapped at his nose. The secret was out; with
a withering glance at Tommy and the camels, he silently walked
away&mdash;the lady following.

<p>All the riding camels and most of the pet baggage camels were
passionately fond of bread. I always put a piece under the flap of my
saddle, and so soon as Reechy came to the camp of a morning, she would
come and lie down by it, and root about till she found it. Lots of the
people, especially boys and children, mostly brought their lunch, as
coming to see the camels was quite a holiday affair, and whenever they
incautiously began to eat in the camp, half a dozen camels would try to
take the food from them. One cunning old camel called Cocky, a huge
beast, whose hump was over seven feet from the ground, with his head
high up in the air, and pretending not to notice anything of the kind,
would sidle slowly up towards any people who were eating, and swooping
his long neck down, with his soft tumid lips would take the food out of
their mouths or hands&mdash;to their utter astonishment and dismay.
Another source of amusement with us was, when any man wanted to have a
ride, we always put him on Peter Nicholls's camel, then he was led for a
certain distance from the camp, when the rider was asked whether he was
all right? He was sure to say, &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; &ldquo;Well, then,
take the reins,&rdquo; we would say; and so soon as the camel found
himself free, he would set to work and buck and gallop back to the camp;
in nine cases out of ten the rider fell off, and those who didn't never
wished to get on any more. With the young ladies we met on our journeys
through the settled districts, I took care that no accidents should
happen, and always gave them Reechy or Alec's cow Buzoe. At the
Greenough, a ball was given in the evening. (I should surely be
forgetting myself were I to omit to mention our kind friend, Mr. Maley,
the miller at Greenough, who took us to his house, gave us a lunch, and
literally flooded us with champagne.) We were now only a short distance
from Champion Bay, the town-site being called Geraldton; it was the 16th
February when we reached it. Outside the town we were met by a number of
gentlemen on horseback, and were escorted into it by them.

<p>On arrival we were invited to a lunch. Champion Bay, or rather
Geraldton, is the thriving centre of what is, for Western Australia, a
large agricultural and pastoral district. It is the most busy and
bustling place I have seen on this side of the continent. It is situated
upon the western coast of Australia, in latitude 28&deg; 40&acute; and
longitude 114&deg; 42&acute; 30&acute;&acute;, lying about
north-north-west from Perth, and distant 250 miles in a straight line,
although to reach it by land more than 300 miles have to be traversed. I
delayed in the neighbourhood of Geraldton for the arrival of the English
and Colonial mails, at the hospitable encampment of Mr. James Palmer, a
gentleman from Melbourne, who was contractor for the first line of
railway, from Champion Bay to Northampton, ever undertaken in Western
Australia.

<p>While we delayed here, Mr. Tietkens's fine young riding bull got
poisoned, and though we did everything we possibly could for him, he
first went cranky, and subsequently died. I was very much grieved; he
was such a splendid hack, and so quiet and kind; I greatly deplored his
loss. The only substance I could find that he had eaten was Gyrostemon,
there being plenty of it here. Upon leaving Mr. Palmer's camp we next
visited a station called the Bowes&mdash;being on the Bowes Creek, and
belonging to Mr. Thomas Burgess, whose father entertained us so well at
Tipperary, near York. Mr. Burgess and his wife most cordially welcomed
us. This was a most delightful place, and so homelike; it was with
regret that I left it behind, Mrs. Burgess being the last white lady I
might ever see.

<p>Mr. Burgess had another station called Yuin, about 115 miles easterly
from here, and where his nephews, the two Messrs. Wittenoom, resided.
They also have a station lying north-east by north called Cheangwa. On
the fifth day from the Bowes we reached Yuin. The country was in a very
dry state. All the stock had been removed to Cheangwa, where rains had
fallen, and grass existed in abundance. At Yuin Mr. Burgess had just
completed the erection of, I should say, the largest wool-shed in the
Colony. The waters on the station consist of shallow wells and springs
all over it. It is situated up the Greenough River. Before reaching
Cheangwa I met the elder of the two Wittenooms, whom I had previously
known in Melbourne; his younger brother was expected back from a trip to
the north and east, where he had gone to look for new pastoral runs.
When he returned, he told us he had not only been very successful in
that way, but had succeeded in capturing a native desperado, against
whom a warrant was out, and who had robbed some shepherds' huts, and
speared, if not killed, a shepherd in their employ. Mr. Frank Wittenoom
was leading this individual alongside of his horse, intending to take
him to Geraldton to be dealt with by the police magistrate there. But O,
tempora mutantur! One fine night, when apparently chained fast to a
verandah post, the fellow managed to slip out of his shackles, quietly
walked away, and left his fetters behind him, to the unbounded
mortification of his captor, who looked unutterable things, and though
he did not say much, he probably thought the more. This escape occurred
at Yuin, to which place I had returned with Mr. E. Wittenoom, to await
the arrival of Mr. Burgess. When we were all conversing in the house,
and discussing some excellent sauterne, the opportunity for his
successful attempt was seized by the prisoner. He effected his escape
through the good offices of a confederate friend, a civilised young
black fellow, who pretended he wanted his hair cut, and got a pair of
sheep shears from Mr. Wittenoom during the day for that apparent
purpose, saying that the captive would cut it for him. Of course the
shears were not returned, and at night the captive or his friend used
them to prise open a split link of the chain which secured him, and away
he went as free as a bird in the air.

<p>I had Mr. Burgess's and Mr. Wittenoom's company to Cheangwa, and on
arrival there my party had everything ready for a start. We arranged for
a final meeting with our kind friends at a spring called Pia, at the far
northern end of Mr. Wittenoom's run. A great number of natives were
assembled round Cheangwa: this is always the case at all frontier
stations, in the Australian squatting bush. Some of the girls and young
women were exceedingly pretty; the men were not so attractive, but the
boys were good-looking youngsters. The young ladies were exceedingly
talkative; they called the camels emus, or, as they pronounced it, immu.
Several of these girls declared their intention of coming with us. There
were Annies, and Lizzies, Lauras, and Kittys, and Judys, by the dozen.
One interesting young person in undress uniform came up to me and said,
&ldquo;This is Judy, I am Judy; you Melbourne walk? me Melbourne walk
too!&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;Oh, all right, my dear;&rdquo; to this she
replied, &ldquo;Then you'll have to gib me dress.&rdquo; I gave her a
shirt.

<p>When we left Cheangwa a number of the natives persisted in following
us, and though we outpaced them in travelling, they stopping to hunt on
the way, they found their way to the camp after us. By some of the men
and boys we were led to a water-hole of some length, called Cooerminga,
about eleven miles nearly north from Cheangwa. As the day was very warm,
we and the natives all indulged promiscuously in the luxury of swimming,
diving, and splashing about in all directions. It might be said
that:&mdash;

<p class="poem">&ldquo;By yon mossy boulder, see an ebony shoulder,
<br>Dazzling the beholder, rises o'er the blue; 
<br>But a moment's thinking, sends the Naiad sinking,
<br>With a modest shrinking, from the gazer's view.&rdquo;

<p>The day after we crossed the dry channel of what is called the River
Sandford, and at two or three miles beyond it, we were shown another
water called Moodilah, six miles from our last night's encampment. We
were so hampered with the girls that we did not travel very rapidly over
this part of the continent. Moodilah lay a little to the east of north
from Cooerminga; Barloweerie Peak bore north 37&deg; west from camp, the
latitude of which was 27&deg; 11&acute; 8&acute;&acute;. On Saturday,
the 8th of April, we went nearly north to Pia Spring, where the
following day we met for the last time, Messrs. Burgess and Wittenoom.
We had some bottles of champagne cooling in canvas water-buckets, and we
had an excellent lunch. The girls still remained with us, and if we
liked we might have stayed to &ldquo;sit with these dark Orianas in
groves by the murmuring sea.&rdquo;

<p>On Sunday, the 9th of April, we all remained in peace, if not
happiness, at Pia Spring; its position is in latitude 27&deg; 7&acute;
and longitude 116&deg; 30&acute;. The days were still very hot, and as
the country produced no umbrageous trees, we had to erect awnings with
tarpaulins to enable us to rest in comfort, the thermometer in the shade
indicating 100&deg;. Pia is a small granite rock-hole or basin, which
contains no great supply of water, but seems to be permanently supplied
by springs from below. From here Mount Murchison, near the eastern bank
of the River Murchison, bore north 73&deg; east, twenty-three or
twenty-four miles away, and Barloweerie, behind us, bore south 48&deg;
west, eight miles.

<h5><a name="i43">ILLUSTRATION 43</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t43.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>FAREWELL TO WESTERN AUSTRALIA.</h5>

<p>The country belonging to Mr. Burgess and the Messrs. Wittenoom
Brothers appeared to me the best and most extensive pastoral property I
had seen in Western Australia. Water is obtained in wells and springs
all over the country, at a depth of four or five feet; there are,
besides, many long standing pools of rain-water on the runs. Mr. Burgess
told me of a water-hole in a creek, called Natta, nine or ten miles off,
where I intend to go next. On Monday, the 10th of April, we bade
farewell to our two kind friends, the last white men we should see. We
finished the champagne, and parted.

<hr>

<h4><a name="ch5.2">CHAPTER 5.2. FROM 10TH APRIL TO 7TH MAY, 1876.</a></h4>
<blockquote>
The natives continue with us.
Natta water-hole.
Myriads of flies.
Alec returns to Cheangwa.
Bashful Tommy.
Cowra man.
Native customs and rites.
Red granite mounds.
Loads carried by women.
Laura and Tommy.
&ldquo;Cowra&rdquo; remains.
Pretty amphitheatre.
Mount Hale range.
Flooded grassy flat.
Clianthus or desert pea.
Natives show us water.
New acquaintances.
Tell-tale fat.
Timber of the Murchison.
A waterhole.
Fine vegetation.
Mount Gould and Mount Hale.
A new tribe of natives.
Melbourne.
Pretty girls brought to the camp.
A picturesque place.
Plague of flies.
Angels' faces.
Peterman.
Ascend Mount Gould.
A high peak.
Country beautifully green.
Natives less friendly.
Leave Mount Gould.
Saleh's ponds.
Mount Labouchere.
Sandal-wood-trees.
Native well in a thicket.
An Australian scene.
The Valley of the Gascoyne.
Beautiful trees.
A fire-brand.
Stony pass.
Native orange.
A second anniversary.
Ascent of the peak.
Severe country for camels' feet.
Grassy plain.
The Lyon's river.
Native fires.
Another anniversary.
A new watercourse.
A turkey bustard.
An extraordinary scene.
Remarks upon the country.
</blockquote>
<p>The harem elected to continue with us. Natta was reached in about
nine miles, north-east by north from Pia. On the way we passed some
excellent and occasionally flooded country, and saw some sheets of
rain-water on which were numerous ducks, but our sportsmen were not so
fortunate as to bag any, the birds being so exceedingly shy. I got a few
afterwards, when we reached Natta. The thermometer to-day, 96&deg;. The
country was beautifully green, and the camels beginning to show great
signs of improvement. The only drawbacks to our enjoyments were the
myriads of flies by day and mosquitoes at night. It now turned out that
Alec Ross had forgotten something, that he wanted at Cheangwa, and we
waited here until he returned. During his absence we actually got enough
ducks to give us all a most excellent dinner, and some to spare for the
girls, who left all the hunting to the men and boys, and remained very
comfortably in the camp. Peter Nicholls was quite in his glory among
them. Tommy, being a very good-looking boy, was an object of great
admiration to a good many of them; but he was so bashful he wouldn't
even talk to them, though they tried very hard to make love to him. Alec
having returned, we left Natta on the 14th, and went about north-east by
east, to a small brackish water in a little creek channel, which we
reached in about fifteen miles. Here our native escort was increased by
the arrival of a young black gentleman, most beautifully dressed in fat
and red ochre, with many extraordinary white marks or figures all over
his back; we were informed that he was a &ldquo;cowra man.&rdquo; I had
heard this expression before, and it seems it is a custom with the
natives of this part of the country, like those of Fowler's and Streaky
Bays on the south coast, to subject the youths of the tribe to a
mutilating operation. After this they are eligible for marriage, but for
a certain time, until the wounds heal, they are compelled to absent
themselves from the society of women. They go about the country solitary
and wretched, and continually utter a short, sharp &ldquo;cowra
cry&rdquo; to warn all other men to keep their women away, until the
time of their probation is over. Married men occasionally go on
&ldquo;cowra&rdquo; also, but for what reason, I do not know. The time
of our new arrival, it appeared, was just up, and he seemed very glad
indeed of it, for he was evidently quite a society young man, and
probably belonged to one of the first families. He talked as though he
knew the country in advance for hundreds of miles, and told us he
intended to come with us.

<p>The country we were now passing through was all covered with low
timber, if indeed the West Australian term of thicket was not more
applicable. There was plenty of grass, but as a rule the region was
poor; no views could be had for any distance. I was desirous of making
my way to, or near to, Mount Hale, on the Murchison River. None of our
natives knew any feature beyond, by its European name. A low line of
hills ran along westerly, and a few isolated patches of granite hills
occurred occasionally to the east of our line of march. We reached a
chain of little creeks or watercourses, and on the 15th camped at a
small water-hole in latitude 26&deg; 46&acute;, and longitude about
116&deg; 57&acute;. From hence we entered thickets, and arrived at the
foot of some red granite mounds, where our cowra man said there was
plenty of water in a rock-hole. It turned out, however, as is usually
the case with these persons, that the information was not in strict
accordance with the truth, for the receptacle he showed us was
exceedingly small, and the supply of water which it contained was
exceedingly smaller.

<p>Mount Murchison bore south 14&deg; west; the latitude of the camp at
these rocks was 26&deg; 36&acute; 8&acute;&acute;. A lot of stony hills
lay in front of us to the north. Our Cheangwa natives, like the poor,
were always with us, although I was anxious to get rid of them; they
were too much of a good thing; like a Portuguese devil, when he's good
he's too good. Here I thought it advisable to try to induce them to
return. A good many of the girls really cried; however, by the promise
of some presents of flour, tea, sugar, shirts, tobacco, red
handkerchiefs, looking glasses, etc., we managed to dry their tears. It
seemed that our little friends had now nearly reached the boundary of
their territories, and some of the men wanted to go back, perhaps for
fear of meeting some members of hostile tribes beyond; and though the
men do occasionally go beyond their own districts, they never let the
women go if they can help it; but the women being under our protection,
didn't care where they went. Many of them told me they would have gone,
perhaps not in such poetic phrase as is found in Lallah Rookh, east,
west&mdash;alas! I care not whither, so thou art safe and I with thee.
It was, however, now agreed that they should return. The weight of the
loads some of these slim-figured girls and young wives carried, mostly
on their heads, was astonishing, especially when a good-sized child was
perched astride on their shoulders as well. The men, of course, carried
nothing but a few spears and sticks; they would generally stay behind to
hunt or dig out game, and when obtained, leave it for the lubras or
women to bring on, some of the women following their footsteps for that
purpose.

<p>The prettiest of these girls, or at least the one I thought the
prettiest, was named Laura; she was a married young lady with one child.
They were to depart on the morrow. At about eleven or twelve o'clock
that night, Laura came to where my bed was fixed, and asked me to take
her to see Tommy, this being her last opportunity. &ldquo;You little
viper,&rdquo; I was going to say, but I jumped up and led her quietly
across the camp to where Tommy was fast asleep. I woke him up and said,
&ldquo;Here, Tommy, here's Laura come to say &lsquo;good-bye&rsquo; to
you, and she wants to give you a kiss.&rdquo; To this the uncultivated
young cub replied, rubbing his eyes, &ldquo;I don't want to kiss him,
let him kiss himself!&rdquo; What was gender, to a fiend like this? and
how was poor Laura to be consoled?

<p>Our cowra and a friend of his, evidently did not intend to leave us
just yet; indeed, Mr. C. gave me to understand, that whithersoever I
went, he would go; where I lodged, he would lodge; that my people should
be his people; I suppose my God would be good enough for him; and that
he would walk with me to Melbourne. Melbourne was the only word they
seemed to have, to indicate a locality remote. Our course from these
rocks was nearly north, and we got into three very pretty circular
spaces or amphitheatres; round these several many-coloured and
plant-festooned granite hills were placed. Round the foot of the
right-hand hills, between the first and second amphitheatre, going
northerly, Mr. C. showed us three or four rock water-holes, some of
which, though not very large in circumference, were pretty deep, and
held more than sufficient for double my number of camels. Here we
outspanned for an hour and had some dinner, much to the satisfaction of
our now, only two attendants; we had come about six miles. From a hill
just above where we dined, I sighted a range to the north, and took it
to be part of the Mount Hale Range; Mount Hale itself lying more
easterly, was hidden by some other hills just in front. After dinner we
proceeded through, or across, the third amphitheatre, the range in front
appearing thirty to forty miles away. That night we encamped in a
thicket, having travelled only sixteen or seventeen miles. In a few
miles, on the following day, we came on to a line of white or flood
gum-trees, and thought there was a river or creek ahead of us; but it
proved only a grassy flat, with the gum-trees growing promiscuously upon
it. A profusion of the beautiful Sturt, or desert-pea, or Clianthus
Dampierii, grew upon this flat. A few low, red granite hills to the
north seemed to form the bank or edge of a kind of valley, and before
reaching them, we struck a salt watercourse, in which our two satellites
discovered, or probably knew of before, a fresh waterhole in rock and
sand in the channel of the creek, with plenty of water in, where we
encamped. The day was exceedingly hot, and though near the end of the
hot months, our continued northerly progress made us painfully aware
that we were still in the region of &ldquo;sere woodlands and sad
wildernesses, where, with fire, and fierce drought, on her tresses,
insatiable summer oppresses.&rdquo; Our latitude here was 26&deg;
14&acute; 50&acute;&acute;.

<p>Immediately upon arrival, our cowra man and his friend seemed aware
of the presence of other natives in the neighbourhood, and began to make
signal smokes to induce their countrymen to approach. This they very
soon did, heralding their advent with loud calls and cries, which our
two answered. Although I could not actually translate what the jabber
was all about, I am sure it was a continual question as to our
respectability, and whether we were fit and presentable enough to be
introduced into their ladies' society. The preliminaries and doubts,
however, seemed at last to be overcome, and the natives then made their
appearance. With them came also several of their young women, who were
remarkably good-looking, and as plump as partridges; but they were a bit
skeery, and evidently almost as wild as wild dogs. Our two
semi-civilised barbarians induced them to come nearer, however, and
apparently spoke very favourably about us, so that they soon became
sociable and talkative. They were not very much dressed, their garments
being composed of a very supple, dark kind of skin and hair, which was
so thickly smeared over with fat and red ochre, that if any one
attempted to hold them, it left a tell-tale mark of red fat all over
their unthinking admirers. The following day they wanted to accompany
us, but I would not permit this, and they departed; at least, we
departed, and with us came two men, who would take no denial, or notice
of my injunction, but kept creeping up after us every now and then. Our
cowra led us by evening to a small&mdash;very small,
indeed&mdash;rock-hole, in which there was scarcely sufficient water for
our four followers. It took me considerably out of my road to reach it,
and I was greatly disgusted when I did so. It lay nearly north-west by
west from the last camp, and was in latitude 26&deg; 7&acute;
9&acute;&acute;. Mount Hale now bore a little to the north of east from
us, and the timber of the Murchison could be seen for the first time
from some hills near the camp.

<p>I now steered nearly north-east, for about fifteen miles, until we
struck the river. The country here consisted of extensive grassy flats,
having several lines of gum-timber traversing it, and occasionally
forming into small water-channels; the entire width of the river-bed
here was between five and six miles. We went about three miles into it,
and had to encamp without water, none of the channels we had passed
having any in. I sent Alec Ross still further northwards, and he found a
small rain water-hole two miles farther north-north-easterly; we went
there on the following morning. The grass and vegetation here, were very
rich, high, and green. One of the little dogs, Queenie, in running after
some small game, was lost, and at night had not returned to the camp,
nor was she there by the morning; but when Saleh and Tommy went for the
camels, they found her with them. I did not intend to ascend Mount Hale,
but pushed for Mount Gould, which bore north 55&deg; east. After
crossing the Murchison channel and flats&mdash;fine, grassy, and
green&mdash;we entered thickets of mulga, which continued for fifteen
miles, until we arrived on the banks of a watercourse coming from the
north, towards the Murchison near Mount Hale, and traversing the country
on the west side of Mount Gould. Mount Gould and Mount Hale are about
twenty-two miles apart, lying nearly north-north-east and
south-south-west from one another, and having the Murchison River
running nearly east and west between, but almost under the northern foot
of Mount Hale. These two mounts were discovered by H.C. Gregory in 1858.

<p>We reached the Mount Gould creek on the 22nd of April, and almost so
soon as we appeared upon its banks, we flushed up a whole host of
natives who were living and hunting there. There were men, women, and
children in scores. There was little or no water in the many channels of
the new creek; and as there appeared yet another channel near Mount
Gould, we went towards it; the natives surrounding us, yelling and
gesticulating in the most excited state, but they were, so to say,
civil, and showed us some recent rain water in the channel at Mount
Gould's foot, at which I fixed the camp. As these were the same natives
or members of the same tribes, that had murdered one if not both the
young Clarksons, I determined to be very guarded in my dealings with
them. The men endeavoured to force their way into the camp several
times. I somewhat more forcibly repelled them with a stick, which made
them very angry. As a rule, very few people like being beaten with a
stick, and these were no exception. They did not appear in the least
degree afraid, or astonished, at the sight of the camels. When they were
hobbled out several of the men not only went to look at them, but began
to pull them about also, and laughed heartily and in chorus when a camel
lay down for them. One or two could say a few words of English, and
said, &ldquo;Which way walk? You Melbourne walk?&rdquo; the magic name
of Melbourne being even in these people's mouths. This is to be
accounted for by the fact that Mr. E. Wittenoom had returned from thence
not long before, and having taken a Cheangwa black boy with him, the
latter had spread the news of the wonders he had seen in the great
metropolis, to the uttermost ends of the earth.

<p>There was not very much water where we camped, but still ample for my
time. The grass and herbage here were splendid and green. When the men
found I would not allow them to skulk about the camp, and apparently
desired no intercourse with them, some of them brought up first one,
then another, and another, and another, very pretty young girls; the men
leading them by the hand and leaving them alone in the camp, and as it
seemed to them that they were required to do or say something, they
began to giggle. The men then brought up some very nice-looking little
boys. But I informed them they might as well go; girls and boys went
away together, and we saw nothing more of them that evening. This was a
very pretty and picturesque place. Mount Gould rose with rough and
timbered sides to a pointed ridge about two miles from the camp. The
banks of the creek were shaded with pretty trees, and numerous acacia
and other leguminous bushes dotted the grassy flooded lands on either
side of the creek. The beauty of the place could scarcely be enjoyed, as
the weather was so hot and the flies such awful plagues, that life was
almost a misery, and it was impossible to obtain a moment's enjoyment of
the scene. The thermometer had stood at 103&deg; in the shade in the
afternoon, and at night the mosquitoes were as numerous and almost more
annoying than the flies in the day. The following day being Sunday, we
rested, and at a very early hour crowds of black men, women, boys, and
children, came swarming up to the camp. But the men were not allowed to
enter. There was no resisting the encroachments of the girls; they
seemed out of their wits with delight at everything they saw; they
danced and pirouetted about among the camels' loads with the greatest
glee. Everything with them was, &ldquo;What name?&rdquo; They wanted to
know the name of everything and everybody, and they were no wiser when
they heard it. Some of these girls and boys had faces, in olive hue,
like the ideal representation of angels; how such beauty could exist
amongst so poor a grade of the human race it is difficult to understand,
but there it was. Some of the men were good-looking, but although they
had probably been beautiful as children, their beauty had mostly
departed. There were several old women at the camp. They were not
beautiful, but they were very quiet and retiring, and seemed to feel
gratification at the pleasures the young ones enjoyed. Sometimes they
would point out some pretty girl or boy and say it was hers, or hers;
they were really very like human beings, though of course no one can
possibly be a real human being who does not speak English. A custom
among the natives here is to cicatrise in parallel horizontal lines the
abdomens of the female portion of the community. The scars of the old
being long healed left only faint raised lines, intended to hide any
natural corrugations; this in a great measure it did, but the younger,
especially those lately operated on, had a very unsightly appearance.
Surely these people cannot deem these the lines of beauty. These young
ladies were much pleased at beholding their pretty faces in a
looking-glass for the first time. They made continual use of the word
&ldquo;Peterman.&rdquo; This was a word I had first heard from the
natives of the Rawlinson Range, upon my last horse expedition of 1874.
It seems to signify, where are you going? or where have you come from?
or something to that effect; and from the fact of their using it, it
appears that they must speak the same language as the natives of the
Rawlinson, which is over 600 miles away to the eastward, and is
separated from their territory by a vast and dreary desert. The day was
again distressingly hot; the thermometer in the afternoon rising to
104&deg; in the shade, which so late in April is something
extraordinary. The girls seemed greatly to enjoy sitting in the fine
shade made by our awnings. The common house-fly swarmed about us in
thousands of decillions, and though we were attended by houris, I at
least did not consider myself in Paradise. The latitude of this camp was
25&deg; 46&acute; 37&acute;&acute;, and longitude 117&deg; 25&acute;.
Next day Alec Ross and I climbed to the top of Mount Gould; this was
rather rough work, the height being between 1100 and 1200 feet above the
surrounding country, and 2600 feet above the sea level. The country
immediately to the eastward was flat and grassy, but with the exception
of a few miles from the foot of the mount, which was open and clear, the
whole region, though flat, is thickly covered with mulga or thickets;
this, in Western Australian parlance, is called a plain. Mount Hale
appeared much higher than this hill.

<p>The only other conspicuous object in view was a high peak to the
north-north-east. The timber of the River Murchison could be traced for
some miles as coming from the eastwards, and sweeping under the northern
foot of Mount Hale. The creek the camp is situated on came from the
north-east. The creek we first saw the natives on, comes from the north,
and the two join before reaching the Murchison. Mount Gould is almost
entirely composed of huge blocks of almost pure iron, which rendered the
compass useless. The creek the camp is on appears to come from some low
hills to the north east-wards, and on leaving this place I shall follow
it up. Some recent rains must have fallen in this neighbourhood, for the
whole country is beautifully green. The flies at the camp to-day were,
if possible, even more numerous than before. They infest the whole air;
they seem to be circumambient; we can't help eating, drinking, and
breathing flies; they go down our throats in spite of our teeth, and we
wear them all over our bodies; they creep up one's clothes and die, and
others go after them to see what they died of. The instant I inhale a
fly it acts as an emetic. And if Nature abhors a vacuum, she, or at
least my nature, abhors these wretches more, for the moment I swallow
one a vacuum is instantly produced. Their bodies are full of poisonous
matter, and they have a most disgusting flavour, though they taste
sweet. They also cause great pains and discomfort to our eyes, which are
always full of them. Probably, if the flies were not here, we might
think we were overrun with ants; but the flies preponderate; the ants
merely come as undertakers and scavengers; they eat up or take away all
we smash, and being attracted by the smell of the dead victims, they
crawl over everything after their prey. The natives appear far less
friendly to-day, and no young houris have visited us. Many of the men
have climbed into trees in the immediate neighbourhood of the camp, not
being allowed in, and are continually peering down at us and our doings,
and reporting all our movements to their associates. At our meal-times
they seem especially watchful, and anxious to discover what it is we
eat, and where it comes from. Some come occasionally creeping nearer to
our shady home for a more extensive view. Wistfully gazing they
come&mdash;

<p class="poem">&ldquo;And they linger a minute,
<br>Like those lost souls who wait,
<br>Viewing, through heaven's gate,
<br>Angels within it.&rdquo;

<p>By the morning of the following day I was very glad to find that the
natives had all departed. Saleh and Tommy were away after the camels,
and had been absent so many hours that I was afraid these people might
have unhobbled the camels and driven them off, or else attacked the two
who were after them. We waited, therefore, for their return in great
anxiety, hour after hour. As they only took one gun besides their
revolvers, I was afraid they might not be able to sustain an attack, if
the natives set upon them. After the middle of the day they turned up,
camels and all, which put an end to our fears.

<p>We departed from Mount Gould late in the day, and travelled up the
creek our camp was on, and saw several small ponds of clear rain-water,
but at the spot where we camped, after travelling fifteen miles, there
was none. Mount Gould bore south 56&deg; west from camp. The travelling
for about twenty miles up the creek was pretty good. At twenty-seven
miles we came to the junction with another creek, where a fine permanent
rocky pool of fresh water, with some good-sized fish in it, exists. I
named this fine watering-place Saleh's Fish-ponds, after my Afghan
camel-driver, who was really a first-rate fellow, without a lazy bone in
his body. The greatest requirement of a camel caravan, is some one to
keep the saddles in repair, and so avert sore backs. Saleh used to do
this admirably, and many times in the deserts and elsewhere I have known
him to pass half the night at this sort of work. The management of the
camels, after one learns the art, is simple enough; they are much easier
to work than a mob of pack-horses; but keeping the saddles right is a
task of the hardest nature. In consequence of Saleh's looking after ours
so well, we never had any trouble with sore-backed camels, thus escaping
a misfortune which in itself might wreck a whole caravan. We kept on
farther up our creek, and at a place we selected for a camp we got some
water by digging in the channel at a depth of only a few inches in the
sandy bed. The country now on both sides of the creek was both stony and
scrubby. Following it up, at ten miles farther, we reached its head
amongst the mass of hills which, by contributing lesser channels,
combine to form its source. Here we re-sighted the high-peaked mount
first seen from Mount Gould, and I decided to visit it. It is most
probably the mountain seen from a distance by H.C. Gregory, and named by
him Mount Labouchere. We were now among a mass of dreadfully rough and
broken hills, which proved very severe to the camels' feet, as they had
continually to descend into and rise again out of, sharp gullies, the
stones being nearly up-edged. The going up and down these short, sharp,
and sometimes very deep, stony undulations, is a performance that these
excellent animals are not specially adapted for. Heavily-loaded camels
have only a rope crupper under their tails to keep the saddles and loads
on, and in descending these places, when the animals feel the crupper
cutting them, some of them would skip and buck, and get some of their
loading off, and we had a great deal of trouble in consequence.

<p>Both yesterday and to-day, the 27th of April, we saw several stunted
specimens of the sandal-wood-tree of commerce, santalum. In the
afternoon, getting over the highest part of the hills, the country fell
slightly towards the north, and we reached a small creek with gum-trees
on it, running to the north-north-west; it was quite dry; no rain
appeared to have visited it or the country surrounding it for centuries.
As the sharp stones had not agreed with the camels, we encamped upon it,
although we could get no water. The latitude of our camp on this dry
creek was 25&deg; 19&acute;. The flies and heat were still terrible.
Leaving the creek and steering still for the high peak of Mount
Labouchere, we came, at thirteen miles, upon a native well in the midst
of a grassy flat among thickets. The peak bore 6&deg; 30&acute; east of
north from it. This well appeared to have been dug out of calcareous
soil. We did not use it, but continued our journey over and through,
both stony and occasionally sandy thickets, to some low hills which rose
before us to the north. On ascending these, a delightful and truly
Australian scene was presented to our view, for before us lay the valley
of the Gascoyne River. This valley is three or four miles wide, and
beautifully green. It is bounded on the north, north-easterly, and
north-westerly, by abrupt-faced ranges of hills, while down through the
centre of the grassy plain stretch serpentine lines of vigorous
eucalyptus-trees, pointing out the channels of the numerous watercourses
into which the river splits. The umbrageous and evergreen foliage of the
tops, the upright, creamy white stems of these elegant gum-trees,
contrasted remarkably and agreeably with the dull and sombre hues of the
treeless hills that formed the background, and the enamelled and emerald
earth that formed the groundwork of the scene. We lost no time in
descending from the hills to the beautiful flat below, and discovered a
fine long reach of water in the largest channel, where there were
numbers of wild ducks. The water was slightly brackish in taste. It
appeared to continue for a considerable distance upon either hand, both
east and west. The herbage was exceedingly fine and green, and it was a
most excellent place for an encampment. The trees formed the greatest
charm of the scene; they were so beautifully white and straight. It
could not be said of this place that:

<p class="poem">&ldquo;The gnarled, knotted trunks Eucalyptian,
<br>Seemed carved like weird columns Egyptian; 
<br>With curious device, quaint inscription,
<br>And hieroglyph strange.&rdquo;

<p>The high Mount Labouchere bore 8&deg; 20&acute; east of north, the
latitude was 25&deg; 3&acute;, longitude 117&deg; 59&acute;, and the
variation 4&deg; 28&acute; west. The wind blew fiercely from the east,
and seemed to betoken a change in the weather. From a hill to the north
of us we could see that small watercourses descended from low hills to
the north and joined the river at various points, one of which, from a
north-easterly direction, I shall follow. The country in that direction
seemed very rough and stony. We shot a number of ducks and pigeons here.
No natives came near us, although Saleh picked up a burning fire-stick
close to the camp, dropped by some wandering savage, who had probably
taken a very keen scrutiny and mental photograph of us all, so as to
enable him to give his fellow-barbarians a full, true, and particular
account of the wild and hideous beings who had invaded their territory.
The water-hole was nearly three miles long; no other water was to be
found in any of the other channels in the neighbourhood. We have seen no
other native game here than ducks and pigeons. We noticed large areas of
ground on the river flats, which had not only been dug, but re-dug, by
the natives, and it seems probable that a great portion of their food
consists of roots and vegetables. I remained here two days, and then
struck over to the creek before mentioned as coming from the north-east.
At eight miles it ran through a rough stony pass between the hills. A
few specimens of the native orange-tree, capparis, were seen. We
encamped in a very rough glen without water. The country is now a mass
of jumbled stones. Still pushing for the peak, we moved slowly over
hills, down valleys, and through many rocky passes; generally speaking,
the caravan could proceed only along the beds of the trumpery
watercourses. By the middle of the 1st of May, the second anniversary of
the day I crawled into Fort McKellar, after the loss of Gibson, we
crawled up to the foot of Mount Labouchere; it seemed very high, and was
evidently very rough and steep. Alec Ross and Saleh ascended the mount
in the afternoon, and all the satisfaction they got, was their trouble,
for it was so much higher than any of its surroundings that everything
beyond it seemed flattened, and nothing in particular could be seen. It
is composed of a pink and whitish-coloured granite, with quantities of
calcareous stone near its base, and it appears to have been formed by
the action of submarine volcanic force. No particular hills and no
watercourses could be seen in any northerly direction. The Gascoyne
River could be traced by its valley trend for twenty-five or thirty
miles eastwards, and it is most probable that it does not exist at all
at fifty miles from where we crossed it. The elevation of this mountain
was found to be 3400 feet above sea level, and 1800 feet above the
surrounding country. The latitude of this feature is 24&deg; 44&acute;,
and its longitude 118&deg; 2&acute;, it lying nearly north of Mount
Churchman, and distant 330 miles from it. There were no signs of water
anywhere, nor could any places to hold it be seen. It was very difficult
to get a camel caravan over such a country. The night we encamped here
was the coolest of the season; the thermometer on the morning of the 2nd
indicated 48&deg;. On the stony hills we occasionally saw stunted
specimens of the scented commercial sandal-wood and native orange-trees.
Leaving the foot of this mountain with pleasure, we went away as
north-easterly as we could, towards a line of hills with a gap or pass
in that direction. We found a small watercourse trending easterly, and
in it I discovered a pool of clear rain-water, all among stones. We
encamped, although it was a terribly rough place. Arriving at, and
departing from, Mount Labouchere has made some of the camels not only
very tender-footed, but in consequence of the stony layers lying so
up-edged, has cut some of them so badly that the caravan might be
tracked by a streak of blood on the stones over which we have passed.
This was not so much from the mere stones, but from the camels getting
their feet wedged into clefts and dragging them forcibly out. Some were
so fortunate as to escape without a scratch. We made very little
distance to-day, as our camp is not more than five miles from the summit
of the mountain, which bore south 61&deg; west from us. We rested at
this little pond for a day, leaving it again upon the 4th.

<p>Following the watercourse we were encamped upon, it took us through a
pass, among the rough hills lying north-easterly. So soon as we cleared
the pass, the creek turned northerly, and ran away over a fine piece of
grassy plain, which was a kind of valley, between two lines of hills
running east and west, the valley being of some width. The timber of the
creek fell off here, and the watercourse seemed to exhaust itself upon
the valley in a westerly direction, but split into two or three channels
before ending, if, indeed, it does end here, which I doubt, as I believe
this valley and creek, form the head of the Lyons River, as no doubt the
channel forms again and continues its course to the west. To-day on our
journey I noticed some native poplar-trees. We left all the
water-channels on our left hand, and proceeded north across the plain,
towards a low part or fall, between two ranges that run along the
northern horizon. The valley consists of grassy flats, though somewhat
thickly timbered with mulga. Some natives' fires were observed in the
hills on our line of march. That night we encamped without water, in a
low part of the hills, after travelling nineteen or twenty miles. The
night became very cloudy, and so was the next morning. We had more
rough, stony, and scrubby hills to traverse. At six miles we got over
these and down into another valley, but even in this, the country was
all scrub and stones. We encamped at a dry gum-creek, where there was
good herbage and bushes for the camels; but the whole region being so
rough, it does not please either us or the camels at all. They can't get
soft places to stand on while they are feeding, nor are their sleeping
places like feather-beds either. At night a very slight sprinkling of
rain fell for a minute or two.

<p>May the 6th was the anniversary of the departure of the caravan from
Beltana in South Australia, whither we were now again endeavouring to
force our way by a new line. More hills, rough and wretched, were
travelled over to-day. In five miles we got to a new watercourse,
amongst the hills, which seemed inclined to go north-easterly, so we
followed it. It meandered about among the hills and through a pass, but
no water was seen, though we were anxiously looking for it at every
turn. Alec shot a wild turkey or bustard to-day. After going thirteen or
fourteen miles, and finding no water, I camped, and as we had none for
ourselves, I sent Alec Ross, Saleh, and Tommy into the hills with the
camels to a place about ten miles back, where I had seen a small native
well. They returned the following day, having found a good-sized
water-hole, and brought a supply to the camp. The last two nights were
cloudy, and I could get no observations for latitude. While the camels
were away I ascended a hill close by the camp; the scene was indeed most
extraordinary, bald and abrupt hills, mounts, and ranges being thrown up
in all directions; they resemble the billows of a tempestuous ocean
suddenly solidified into stone, or as though a hundred thousand million
Pelions had been upon as many million Ossas hurled, and as though the
falling masses, with superincumbent weight, falling, flattened out the
summits of the mountains low but great.

<p>Our creek, as well as I could determine, seemed to be joined by
others in its course north-easterly. I was surprised to find a creek
running in that direction, expecting rather to find the fall of the
whole region to the opposite point, as we are now in the midst of the
hill-country that forms the watershed, that sends so many rivers into
the sea on the west coast. The hills forming these watersheds are almost
uniformly composed of granite, and generally lie in almost parallel
lines, nearly east and west. They are mostly flat-topped, and at various
points present straight, rounded, precipitous, and corrugated fronts, to
the astonished eyes that first behold them. A few small water-channels
rise among them, and these, joining others of a similar kind, gather
strength and volume sufficient to form the channels of larger
watercourses, which eventually fall into some other, dignified by the
name of a river, and eventually discharge themselves into the sea.
Between the almost parallel lines of hills are hollows or narrow
valleys, which are usually as rough and stony as the tops of the hills
themselves; and being mostly filled with scrubs and thickets, it is as
dreadful a region for the traveller to gaze upon as can well be
imagined; it is impossible to describe it. There is little or no
permanent water in the whole region; a shower occasionally falls here
and there, and makes a small flood in one or other of the numerous
channels; but this seems to be all that the natives of this part of the
country have to depend upon. If there were any large waters, we must
come upon them by signs, or instinct, if not by chance. The element of
chance is not so great here as in hidden and shrouded scrubs, for here
we can ascend the highest ground, and any leading feature must instantly
be discovered. The leading features here are not the high, but the low
grounds, not the hills, but the valleys, as in the lowest ground the
largest watercourses must be found. Hence we follow our present creek,
as it must run into a larger one. I know the Ashburton is before us, and
not far off now; and as it is the largest river? in Western Australia,
it must occupy the largest and lowest valley. The number of inhabitants
of this region seems very limited; we have met none, an occasional smoke
in the distance being the only indication of their existence. In the hot
months of the year this region must be vile in the extreme, and I
consider myself most fortunate in having the cool season before me to
traverse it in. It is stony, sterile, and hideous, and totally unsuited
for the occupation or habitation of the white man.

<hr>

<h4><a name="ch5.3">CHAPTER 5.3. FROM 7TH MAY TO 10TH JUNE, 1876.</a></h4>
<blockquote>
Depart for higher ground.
Rainfalls.
Ophthalmia.
Romantic glen.
Glen Ross.
Camels on the down grade.
Larger creek.
The Ashburton.
No natives.
Excellent bushes for camels.
A strange spot.
Junction of several creeks.
Large snake.
Grand Junction Depot.
A northerly journey.
Milk thistle.
Confined glen.
Pool of water.
Blind with ophthalmia.
Leading the blind.
Dome-like masses.
Mount Robinson and The Governor.
Ophthalmia range.
Rocky spring.
Native fig-trees.
A glen full of water.
Camels nearly drowned.
Scarcity of living things.
And of water.
Continued plague of flies.
A pretty view.
Tributaries join.
Nicholls's Fish ponds.
Characteristics of watering places.
Red hill.
Another spring.
Unvarying scene.
Frost, thermometer 28&deg;.
A bluff hill.
Gibson's Desert again.
Remarks upon the Ashburton.
The desert's edge.
Barren and wretched region.
Low ridges and spinifex.
Deep native well.
Thermometer 18&deg;.
Salt bush and Acacia flats.
A rocky cleft.
Sandhills in sight.
Enter the desert.
The solitary caravan.
Severe ridges of sand.
Camels poisoned in the night.
In doubt, and resolved.
Water by digging.
More camels attacked.
A horrible and poisonous region.
Variable weather.
Thick ice.
A deadly Upas-tree.
</blockquote>
<p>Though the camels returned early from where the water was found, some
of them required a rest on the soft ground on the banks of the creek,
and as there were good bushes here also, we remained for the rest of the
day. The night set in very close and oppressive, and a slight rain fell.
On the morning of May the 8th there was some appearance of more rain,
and as we were camped upon ground liable to be flooded, I decided to be
off at once to some higher ground, which we reached in about two miles
down the creek. While we were packing up, and during the time we were
travelling, the rain came down sufficiently heavily to wet us all
thoroughly. We got to the side of a stony hill, put up our tents and
tarpaulins, and then enjoyed the rain exceedingly, except that our
senses of enjoyment were somewhat blunted, for all of us had been
attacked with ophthalmia for several days previously. Livingstone
remarks in one of his works that, in Africa, attacks of ophthalmia
generally precede rain. The rain fell occasionally throughout the
remainder of the day and during the night. &ldquo;All night long, in
fitful pauses, falling far, but faint and fine.&rdquo; By the next
morning it had flooded the small lateral channels; this, however, caused
a very slight trickling down the channel of the larger creek. The
following day was windy and cloudy, but no more rain fell; about an inch
and a half had fallen altogether. We remained in camp to-day, and dried
all our things. The position of the camp was in latitude 24&deg;
12&acute; 8&acute;&acute; and longitude about 118&deg; 20&acute;.

<h5><a name="i44">ILLUSTRATION 44</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t44.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>GLEN ROSS.</h5>

<p>On the 10th of May we left, still following our creek about
east-north-east. We have had, a line of hills to the north of us for
some distance, but now at five miles this fell off, and some other hills
on the south, running up close to the creek, turned its course up to the
north, and in two or three miles it ran into a most picturesque and
romantic glen, which had now a rushing torrent roaring through its
centre. Here no doubt some permanent water exists, as we not only saw
great quantities of mussel shells at deserted native camps, but Alec
Ross saw a large rocky water reservoir in the glen, in which were
quantities of good-sized fish. The camels could not pass through this
glen, it was too rocky; they therefore had to travel along the top of a
precipice of red and white granite. That overlooked it on the eastern
side. The noise of waters rushing over the rocky bottom of this
stone-bound glen, was music sweet, and sound melodious, to ears like
ours, so unaccustomed to the beautiful cadences of Nature's pure and
soothing voice. The atmosphere was pure and clear, the breeze fresh, the
temperature such as man may enjoy; and this was one of those few and
seldom-met-with, places where the wanderer's eye may rest for a moment
with pleasure as it scans the scene around. The verdure of the glen, the
bright foliage of the trees that lined the banks of the stream below,
the sparkling water as it danced and glittered in the sunlight, the slow
and majestic motion of the passing caravan, as it wound so snake-like
along the top of the precipitous wall, combined with the red and white
colouring of the rifted granite of which it is composed, formed a
picture framed in the retina of his eye, which is ever pleasing to the
traveller to remember, and a pleasure also to describe. I have named
this pretty place Glen Ross, after my young friend Alec. We got the
caravan easily enough up on top of the wall, the difficulty was to get
it down again. A very steep place had to be negotiated, and we were more
than an hour in descending to ground not a hundred yards below us.
Camels are not designed for going down places of this kind, with loads
on; but they have so many other splendid qualities, that I cannot
censure them for not possessing the faculty of climbing like cats or
monkeys.

<p>From a hill near the mouth of this glen it could be seen that this
creek ran into a much larger one, in the course of three or four miles.
There also appeared a kind of valley in which the new creek lay; it and
its valley seemed to run east and west. On arrival at this new feature
the following morning, I found the channel very broad and sandy-bedded,
with fine vigorous eucalyptus timber growing upon either bank. I was at
once certain that this new feature was the upper portion of the
Ashburton River, which enters the sea upon the west coast. It has always
been supposed to be the largest river in Western Australia. No traveller
had ever reached so high a point up it previously; of course its flow
was to the west. Only a small stream of water was running down its bed,
caused no doubt by the late rains. The valley down which it runs is so
confined and stony, that no sufficient areas of country suitable for
occupation can be had on it, in this neighbourhood. Its course was
nearly from the east, and we followed along its banks. In the immediate
neighbourhood there was very fine grass and herbage. I struck it in
latitude 24&deg; 5&acute;, and longitude 118&deg; 30&acute;. A branch
creek joins it from the north-east at nine miles. I encamped upon it for
the first time on the 11th of May. In our progress up this river&mdash;I
use the term in its Australian sense, for at this portion the Ashburton
might be termed a dry river only&mdash;we found a slight stream of water
trickling along its bed. The banks are low, the bed is broad. We had to
travel mainly in the sandy bed, as this proved the best travelling
ground in general, the valley being both narrow and stony. On the second
day it appeared that the only water that ran down the bed came from
another creek, which joined from the south; above that spot the
Ashburton channel was quite dry, although we occasionally found small
ponds of water in the sand here and there. At night, on the 12th, there
was none where we camped; the river still ran nearly east and west. That
hideous and objectionable vegetation, the Triodia irritans, or spinifex,
was prevalent even in places where the waters sometimes flowed. We have
had plenty of this enemy ever since we left Mount Gould. No natives were
seen, or appear to exist here. A few strips of good country occur
occasionally on the banks of the river, but not in areas of sufficient
extent to be of any use for occupation. Neither man, beast, bird, nor
fish was to be seen, only an odd and apparently starving crow was
occasionally heard. As we travelled farther up the river, there was even
less appearance of rain having fallen; but the grass and herbage is
green and fresh, and it may be it was visited by rains previously. There
are excellent acacia and other leguminous bushes for the camels.

<p>On the 13th of May we came to a very strange spot, where a number of
whitish, flat-topped hills hemmed in the river, and where the
conjunction of three or four other creeks occurred with the Ashburton,
which now appeared to come from the south, its tributaries coming from
the east and north-east. On the most northerly channel, Peter Nicholls
shot a very large snake; it was nearly nine feet long, was a foot round
the girth, and weighed nearly fifty pounds. It was a perfect monster for
Australia. Had we been without food, what a godsend it would have been
to us! It would have made two or three good meals for the whole party. I
called this place the Grand Junction Depot, as the camp was not moved
from there for thirteen days. The position of the camp at this Grand
Junction was in latitude 24&deg; 6&acute; 8&acute;&acute;, and longitude
119&deg;. At this time I had a second attack of ophthalmia; but on the
15th, thinking I was recovering, I went away in company with Alec Ross
to penetrate as far north as the 23rd parallel of latitude, as I was in
hopes of finding some new hills or ranges in that locality that might
extend for a distance eastwards. We took four camels with us, three
being the same animals which Alec and I took when we found the Boundary
Dam.

<p>Leaving the depot, we went up the most easterly of the creeks that
came in at the Grand Junction. In its channel I saw some of the milk or
sow-thistle plant growing&mdash;the Sonchus oleraceus. I have met this
plant in only four places during my explorations. The trend of the creek
was nearly from the east-north-east. At six miles the gum-timber
disappeared from the creek, and the channel being confined by hills, we
were in a kind of glen, with plenty of running water to splash through.
A great quantity of tea-tree&mdash;Melaleuca&mdash;grew in the creek
bed. There we saw another large snake, but not of such dimensions as
Nicholls's victim. At ten miles up from the depot the glen ceased, and
the creek ran through a country more open on the north bank. We camped
at about twenty miles. During the day we saw some native poplars,
quandong, or native peach, capparis, or native orange, and a few scented
sandal-wood-trees; nearly all of these different kinds of trees were
very stunted in their growth. At night my eyes were so much inflamed and
so painful with ophthalmia, that I could scarcely see. The next day we
steered north-north-east, the ground being very stony and bad for
travelling. We passed some low hills at seven or eight miles, and at
twenty-one we encamped in a dry, stony creek channel. The following day
the country was almost identical in its nature, only that we found a
small pool of water at night in a creek, our course being still the
same. My eyes had been so bad all day, I was in agony; I had no lotion
to apply to them. At length I couldn't see at all, and Alec Ross had to
lead the camels, with mine tied behind them. I not only couldn't see, I
couldn't open my eyes, and had no idea where I was going. That day Alec
sighted a range of somewhat high hills to our left; he next saw another
range having rounded, dome-like masses about it, and this lay across our
path. Alec ascended one of the hills, and informed me that he saw an
extensive mass of hills and ranges in every direction but the east. To
the north they extended a great distance, but they rose into the highest
points at two remarkable peaks to the north-west, and these, although I
cannot be certain exactly where they are situated, I have named
respectively Mount Robinson and The Governor, in the hope that these
designations will remain as lasting memorials of the intelligent and
generous interest displayed by Governor Robinson in the exploration of
the province under his sway. The country to the east is all level; no
ranges whatever appear in that direction. From what Alec saw and
described to me, it was evident that we were upon the edge of the
desert, as if the ranges ceased to the east, it was not likely that any
watercourses could exist without them. No watercourses could be seen in
any direction, except that from which we had come. It was a great
disappointment to me to get such information, as I had hoped to discover
some creeks or rivers that might carry me some distance farther
eastward; but now it was evident they did not exist. I called this
range, whose almost western end Alec ascended, Ophthalmia Range, in
consequence of my suffering so much from that frightful malady. I could
not take any observations, and I cannot be very certain where this range
lies. I wanted to reach the 23rd parallel, but as the country looked so
gloomy and forbidding farther north, it was useless plunging for only a
few miles more into such a smashed and broken region. By careful
estimate it was quite fair to assume that we had passed the Tropic of
Capricorn by some miles, as my estimated latitude here was 23&deg;
15&acute;, and longitude about 119&deg; 37&acute;. I was in such pain
that I ordered an instant retreat, my only desire being to get back to
the depot and repose in the shade.

<p>This was the 18th of May, and though the winter season ought to have
set in, and cool weather should have been experienced, yet we had
nothing of the kind, but still had to swelter under the enervating rays
of the burning sun of this shadeless land; and at night, a
sleeping-place could only be obtained by removing stones, spinifex, and
thorny vegetation from the ground. The latter remark, it may be
understood, does not apply to only this one place or line of travel; it
was always the case. After returning for a few miles on our outcoming
tracks, Alec found a watercourse that ran south-westerly, and as it must
eventually fall into the Ashburton, we followed it. In travelling down
its course on the 22nd the creek became enclosed by hills on either
side, and we found an extraordinary rocky spring. The channel of the
creek dropped suddenly down to a lower level, which, when in flood, must
no doubt form a splendid cascade. Now a person could stand on a vast
boulder of granite and look down at the waters, as they fell in little
sprays from the springs that supplied the spot; the small streams
rushing out from among the fissures of the broken rocks, and all
descending into a fine basin below. To Alec's eyes was this romantic
scene displayed. The rocks above, below, and around, were fringed and
decked with various vegetations; shrubs and small trees ornamented
nearly the whole of the surrounding rocks, amongst which the native
fig-tree, Ficus platypoda, was conspicuous. It must have been a very
pretty place. I could hear the water rushing and splashing, but could
not see anything. It appeared also that the water ran out of the basin
below into the creek channel, which goes on its course apparently
through or into a glen. I describe this peculiar freak of nature from
what Alec told me; I hope my description will not mislead others. Soon
after we found that this was the case, as we now entered an exceedingly
rough and rocky glen full of water&mdash;at least so it appeared to
Alec, who could see nothing but water as far down as he could look. At
first the water was between three and four feet deep; the farther we
went the deeper the water became. Could any one have seen us we must
have presented a very novel sight, as the camels got nearly up to their
humps in water, and would occasionally refuse to go on; they would hang
back, break their nose-ropes, and then lie quietly down until they were
nearly drowned. We had to beat and pull them up the best way we could.
It was rather disagreeable for a blind man to slip off a camel up to his
neck in cold water, and, lifting up his eyelids with both hands, try to
see what was going on. Having, however, gone so far, we thought it best
to continue, as we expected the glen to end at any turn; but the water
became so deep that Alec's riding cow Buzoe, being in water deep enough
for her to swim in, if she could swim, refused to go any farther, and
thought she would like to lie down. This she tried, but the water was
too deep for her to keep her head above it, and after being nearly
smothered she got up again:&mdash;

<p class="poem">&ldquo;And now to issue from the glen,
<br>No pathway meets the wand'rers' ken,
<br>Unless they climb, with footing nice,
<br>A far-projecting precipice.&rdquo;

<p>It would be out of all propriety to expect a camel to climb a
precipice; fortunately at a few yards further a turn of the glen showed
Alec a place on the southern bank where a lot of rocks had fallen down.
It was with the greatest difficulty we got to it, and with still greater
that at last we reached the top of the cliff, and said good-bye to this
watery glen. Our clothes, saddles, blankets, and food were soaked to a
pulp. We could not reach the depot that night, but did so early on the
following day. I called this singular glen in which the camels were
nearly drowned, Glen Camel.

<p>No natives had visited the camp, nor had any living thing, other than
flies, been seen, while we were away, except a few pigeons. The camp at
this depot was fixed on the soft, sandy bed of the Ashburton, close to
the junction of the east creek, which Alec and I had followed up. It had
been slightly flooded by the late rains, and two open ponds of clear
water remained in the bed of the Ashburton. It seems probable that water
might always be procured here by digging, but it is certainly not always
visible on the surface. Once or twice before reaching the depot, we saw
one or two places with dried-up bulrushes growing in the bed, and water
may have existed there in the sand. In consequence of my eyes being so
bad, we remained here for the next two days. The heat and the flies were
dreadful; and the thermometer indicated 93&deg; one day and 95&deg; the
next, in the shade. It was impossible to get a moment's peace or rest
from the attacks of the flies; the pests kept eating into our eyes,
which were already bad enough. This seemed to be the only object for
which these wretches were invented and lived, and they also seemed to be
quite ready and willing to die, rather than desist a moment from their
occupation. Everybody had an attack of the blight, as ophthalmia is
called in Australia, which with the flies were enough to set any one
deranged. Every little sore or wound on the hands or face was covered by
them in swarms; they scorned to use their wings, they preferred walking
to flying; one might kill them in millions, yet other, and hungrier
millions would still come on, rejoicing in the death of their
predecessors, as they now had not only men's eyes and wounds to eat, but
could batten upon the bodies of their slaughtered friends also. Strange
to say, we were not troubled here with ants; had we been, we should only
have required a few spears stuck into us to complete our happiness. A
very pretty view was to be obtained from the summit of any of the
flat-topped hills in this neighbourhood, and an area of nearly 100
square miles of excellent country might be had here.

<p>On Friday, the 26th of May, we left the depot at this Grand Junction.
The river comes to this place from the south for some few miles. In ten
miles we found that it came through a low pass, which hems it in for
some distance. Two or three tributaries joined, and above them its bed
had become considerably smaller than formerly. At about eighteen miles
from the depot we came upon a permanent water, fed by springs, which
fell into a fine rock reservoir, and in this, we saw many fish
disporting themselves in their pure and pellucid pond. Several of the
fishes were over a foot long. The water was ten or more feet deep. A
great quantity of tea-tree, Melaleuca, grew in the river-bed here;
indeed, our progress was completely stopped by it, and we had to cut
down timber for some distance to make a passage for the camels before we
could get past the place, the river being confined in a glen. Peter
Nicholls was the first white man who ever saw this extraordinary place,
and I have called it Nicholls's Fish Ponds after him. It will be noticed
that the characteristics of the only permanent waters in this region are
rocky springs and reservoirs, such as Saleh's Fish Ponds, Glen Ross,
Glen Camel, and Nicholls's Fish Ponds will show. More junctions occurred
in this neighbourhood, and it was quite evident that the main river
could not exist much farther, as immediately above every tributary its
size became manifestly reduced.

<p>On the 27th of May we camped close to a red hill on the south bank of
the river; just below it, was another spring, at which a few reeds and
some bulrushes were growing. The only views from any of the hills near
the river displayed an almost unvarying scene; low hills near the banks
of the river, and some a trifle higher in the background. The river had
always been in a confined valley from the time we first struck it, and
it was now more confined than ever. On the morning of the 28th of May we
had a frost for the first time this year, the thermometer indicating
28&deg;. To-day we crossed several more tributaries, mostly from the
north side; but towards evening the river split in two, at least here
occurred the junction of two creeks of almost equal size, and it was
difficult to determine which was the main branch. I did not wish to go
any farther south, therefore I took the more northerly one; its trend,
as our course for some days past had been, was a good deal south of
east; indeed, we have travelled about east-south-east since leaving the
depot. In the upper portions of the river we found more water in the
channel than we had done lower down; perhaps more rain had fallen in
these hills.

<p>By the 29th, the river or creek-channel had become a mere thread; the
hills were lowering, and the country in the glen and outside was all
stones and scrub. We camped at a small rain-water hole about a mile and
a half from a bluff hill, from whose top, a few stunted gum-trees could
be seen a little farther up the channel. Having now run the Ashburton up
to its head, I could scarcely expect to find any more water before
entering Gibson's Desert, which I felt sure commences here. So far as I
knew, the next water was in the Rawlinson Range of my former horse
expedition, a distance of over 450 miles. And what the nature of the
country between was, no human being knew, at least no civilised human
being. I was greatly disappointed to find that the Ashburton River did
not exist for a greater distance eastwards than this, as when I first
struck it, it seemed as though it would carry me to the eastwards for
hundreds of miles. I had followed it only eighty or a trifle more, and
now it was a thing of the past. It may be said to rise from nowhere,
being like a vast number of Australian rivers, merely formed in its
lower portions by the number of tributaries that join it. There are very
few pretty or romantic places to be seen near it. The country and views
at the Grand Junction Depot form nearly the only exceptions met. From
that point the river decreased in size with every branch creek that
joined it, and now it had decreased to nothing. No high ranges form its
head. The hills forming its water-shed become gradually lower as we
approach its termination, or rather beginning, at the desert's edge. The
desert's edge is a raised plateau of over 2000 feet above the
sea-level&mdash;the boiling point of water being 208&deg; = 2049
feet&mdash;and being about 350 miles in a straight line from where the
Ashburton debouches into the sea. My camp upon the evening of the 29th
of May, a little westward of the bluff-faced hill before mentioned, was
in latitude 24&deg; 25&acute; and longitude 119&deg; 58&acute;. We
remained here during the 30th. The horizon to the east was formed by a
mass of low ranges; from them we saw that several diminutive
watercourses ran into our exhausted channel. I could not expect that any
hills would extend much farther to the east, or that I should now obtain
any water much farther in that direction. A line of low ridges ran all
round the eastern horizon, and another bluff-faced hill lay at the
south-west end of them. The whole region had a most barren and wretched
appearance, and there was little or no vegetation of any kind that the
camels cared to eat. Feeling certain that I should now almost
immediately enter the desert, as the explorer can scent it from afar, I
had all our water-vessels filled, as fortunately there was sufficient
water for the purpose, so that when we leave this camp we shall not be
entirely unprepared.

<p>The morning of the 31st of May was again cold, the thermometer
falling to 27&deg;, and we had a sharp frost. I was truly delighted to
welcome this long-expected change, and hoped the winter or cool season
had set in at last. This day we travelled east, and went over low, rough
ridges and stony spinifex hills for several miles. At about eleven
miles, finding a dry water-channel, which, however, had some good camel
shrubs upon its banks, we encamped in latitude 24&deg; 28&acute;, being
still among low ridges, where no definite view could be obtained. On
June the 1st we travelled nearly east-north-east towards another low
ridge. The ground became entirely covered with spinifex, and I thought
we had entered the desert in good earnest; but at about six miles we
came upon a piece of better country with real grass, being much more
agreeable to look at. Going on a short distance we came upon a dry
water-channel, at which we found a deep native well with bitter water in
it. We encamped in latitude 24&deg; 24&acute;. The night and following
morning were exceedingly cold&mdash;the thermometer fell to 18&deg;.

<p>We had not yet reached the low ridge, but arrived at it in two miles
on the morning of the 2nd. From it another low ridge bore 23&deg; north
of east, and I decided to travel thither.

<p>To-day we had a good deal of country covered with ironstone gravel;
we passed a few grassy patches with, here and there, some salt bush and
acacia flats; there were also many desert shrubs and narrow thickets.
The camp was fixed nearly under the brow of the ridge we had steered
for, and it was quite evident, though a few ridges yet appeared for a
short distance farther east, that we had at length reached the desert's
edge and the commencement of the watershed of the western coast. It will
be observed that in my journey through the scrubs to Perth, I had met
with no creeks or water-sheds at all, until after I reached the first
outlying settlement.

<p>The question which now arose was, what kind of country existed
between us and my farthest watered point in 1874 at the Rawlinson Range?
In a perfectly straight line it would be 450 miles. The latitude of this
camp was 24&deg; 16&acute; 6&acute;&acute;. I called it the Red Ridge
camp. Since my last attack of ophthalmia, I suffer great pain and
confusion when using the sextant. The attack I have mentioned in this
journey was by no means the only one I have had on my numerous journeys;
I have indeed had more or less virulent attacks for the last twenty
years, and I believe the disease is now chronic, though suppressed. From
the Red Ridge camp we went about eight miles east-north-east, and I
found under a mass of low scrubby hills or rises tipped with red
sandstone, a rocky cleft in the ground, round about which were numerous
old native encampments; I could see water under a rock; the cleft was
narrow, and slanted obliquely downwards; it was not wide enough to admit
a bucket. There was amply sufficient water for all my camels, but it was
very tedious work to get enough out with a quart pot; the rock was
sandstone. There was now no doubt in my mind, that all beyond this point
was pure and unrelieved desert, for we were surrounded by spinifex, and
the first waves of the dreaded sandhills were in view. The country was
entirely open, and only a sandy undulation to the eastward bounded the
horizon. The desert had to be crossed, or at least attempted, even if it
had been 1000 miles in extent; I therefore wasted no time in plunging
into it, not delaying to encamp at this last rocky reservoir. After
watering our camels we made our way for about four miles amongst the
sandhills. As we passed by, I noticed a solitary desert oak-tree,
Casuarina decaisneana, and a number of the Australian grass-trees,
Xanthorrhoea. The country was almost destitute of timber, except that
upon the tops of the parallel lines of red sandhills, which mostly ran
in a north-east and south-west direction, a few stunted specimens of the
eucalypt, known as blood-wood or red gum existed. This tree grows to
magnificent proportions in Queensland, and down the west coast from
Fremantle, always in a watered region. Heaven only knows how it ever got
here, or how it could grow on the tops of red sandhills. Having stopped
to water our camels at the rocky cleft, our first day's march into the
desert was only eleven miles. Our camp at night was in latitude 24&deg;
12&acute; 22&acute;&acute;.

<p>The next day all signs of rises, ridges, hills, or ranges, had
disappeared behind the sandhills of the western horizon, and the
solitary caravan was now launched into the desert, like a ship upon the
ocean, with nothing but Providence and our latitude to depend upon, to
enable us to reach the other side.

<p>The following morning, Sunday, the 4th June, was remarkably warm, the
thermometer not having descended during the night to less than 60&deg;,
though only two mornings ago it was down to 18&deg;. I now travelled so
as gradually to reach the 24th parallel, in hopes some lines of hills or
ranges might be discovered near it. Our course was east by north. We had
many severe ridges of sand to cross, and this made our rate of
travelling very slow. We saw one desert oak-tree and a few
currajong-trees of the order of Sterculias, some grass-trees, quandong,
or native peach, Fusanus, a kind of sandal-wood, and the red gum or
blood-wood-trees; the latter always grows upon ground as high as it can
get, and therefore ornaments the tops of the sandhills, while all the
first-named trees frequent the lower ground between them. To-day we only
made good twenty miles, though we travelled until dark, hoping to find
some food, or proper bushes for the camels; but, failing in this, had to
turn them out at last to find what sustenance they could for themselves.
On the following morning, when they were brought up to the camp&mdash;at
least when some of them were&mdash;I was informed that several had got
poisoned in the night, and were quite unable to move, while one or two
of them were supposed to be dying. This, upon the outskirt of the
desert, was terrible news to hear, and the question of what's to be done
immediately arose; but it was answered almost as soon, by the evident
fact that nothing could be done, because half the camels could not move,
and it would be worse than useless to pack up the other half and leave
them. So we quietly remained and tended our sick and dying ones so well,
that by night one of the worst was got on his legs again. We made them
sick with hot water, butter, and mustard, and gave them injections with
the clyster pipe as well; the only substance we could get out of them
was the chewed-up Gyrostemon ramulosus, which, it being nearly dark, we
had not observed when we camped. We drove the mob some distance to
another sandhill, where there was very little of this terrible scourge,
and the next morning I was delighted to find that the worst ones and the
others were evidently better, although they were afflicted with staggers
and tremblings of the hind limbs. I was rather undecided what to do,
whether to push farther at once into the desert or retreat to the last
rocky cleft water, now over five-and-twenty miles behind us. But, as
Othello says, once to be in doubt is once to be resolved, and I decided
that, as long as they could stagger, the camels should stagger on. In
about twelve miles Alec Ross and Tommy found a place where the natives
had formerly obtained water by digging. Here we set to work and dug a
well, but only got it down twelve feet by night, no water making its
appearance. The next morning we were at it again, and at fifteen feet we
saw the fluid we were delving for. The water was yellowish, but pure,
and there was apparently a good supply. We had, unfortunately, hit on
the top of a rock that covered nearly the whole bottom, and what water
we got came in only at one corner. Two other camels were poisoned in the
night, but those that were first attacked were a trifle better.

<p>On the 8th of June more camels were attacked, and it was impossible
to get out of this horrible and poisonous region. The wretched country
seems smothered with the poisonous plant. I dread the reappearance of
every morning, for fear of fresh and fatal cases. This plant, the
Gyrostemon, does not seem a certain deadly poison, but as I lost one
camel by death from it, at Mr. Palmer's camp, near Geraldton, and so
many are continually becoming prostrated by its virulence, it may be
well understood how we dread the sight of it, for none can tell how soon
or how many of our animals might be killed. As it grows here, all over
the country, the unpoisoned camels persist in eating it; after they have
had a shock, however, they generally leave it entirely alone; but there
is, unfortunately, nothing else for them to eat here.

<p>The weather now is very variable. The thermometer indicated only
18&deg; this morning, and we had thick ice in all the vessels that
contained any water overnight; but in the middle of the day it was
impossible to sit with comfort, except in the shade. The flies still
swarmed in undiminished millions; there are also great numbers of the
small and most annoying sand-flies, which, though almost too minute to
be seen, have a marvellous power of making themselves felt. The well we
put down was sunk in a rather large flat between the sandhills. The
whole country is covered with spinifex in every direction, and this,
together with the poisonous bushes and a few blood-wood-trees, forms the
only vegetation. The pendulous fringe instead of leaves on the poison
bush gives it a strange and weird appearance, and to us it always
presents the hideous, and terrible form of a deadly Upas-tree.

<hr>

<h4><a name="ch5.4">CHAPTER 5.4. FROM 11TH JUNE TO 23RD AUGUST, 1876.</a></h4>
<blockquote>
Farther into the desert.
Sandhills crowned with stones.
Natives' smokes and footprints seen.
Weakened camels.
Native well.
Ten days' waterless march.
Buzoe's grave.
A region of desolation.
Eagles.
Birds round the well.
Natives hovering near.
Their different smokes.
Wallaby.
Sad Solitude's triumphant reign.
The Alfred and Marie range once more.
The Rawlinson range and Mount Destruction.
Australia twice traversed.
Fort McKellar.
Tyndall's Springs.
A last search after Gibson.
Tommy's Flat.
The Circus.
The Eagle.
Return to Sladen Water.
The Petermann tribes.
Marvellous Mount Olga.
Glen Watson.
Natives of the Musgrave range.
A robbery.
Cattle camps.
The missing link.
South for the Everard range.
Everard natives.
Show us a watering-place.
Alec and Tommy find water.
More natives.
Compelled to give up their plunder.
Natives assist at dinner.
Like banyan-trees.
A bad camping-place.
Natives accompany us.
Find the native well.
The Everard revisited.
Gruel thick and slab.
Well in the Ferdinand.
Rock-hole water.
Natives numerous and objectionable.
Mischief brewing.
A hunt for spears.
Attack frustrated.
Taking an observation.
A midnight foe.
The next morning.
Funeral march.
A new well.
Change of country.
Approaching the telegraph line.
The Alberga.
Decrepit native women.
The Neales.
Mount O'Halloran.
The telegraph line.
Dry state of the country.
Hann's Creek.
Arrival at the Peake.
</blockquote>
<p>On the 11th of June I was delighted to be able to be again upon the
move, and leave this detestable poisonous place and our fifteen-foot
shaft behind. Our only regret was that we had been compelled to remain
so long. The camels had nearly all been poisoned, some very much worse
than others; but all looked gaunt and hollow-eyed, and were exceedingly
weak and wretched, one remarkable exception being noticed in Alec Ross's
riding-cow, old Buzoe, who had either not eaten the poison plant, or had
escaped untouched by it. Our course was now east by north, and as we got
farther into the desert, I noticed that occasionally some of the
undulations of sand were crowned with stones, wherever they came from.
Where these stones crop up a growth of timber, generally mulga, occurs
with them. It is sandstone that tips these rises. Some smokes of native
fires were seen from our line of march, in northerly and southerly
directions, and occasionally the footprints upon the sands, of some
wandering child of the desert. These were the only indications we could
discover of the existence of primordial man upon the scene. We passed a
few grass-trees, which are usually called &ldquo;black boys&rdquo; in
almost every part of the continent where they exist, and they seem to
range over nearly the whole of Australia, from Sydney to Perth, south of
the Tropic. The camels were so weak that to-day we could only accomplish
about eighteen miles. At five miles, on the following morning, we passed
a hollow with some mulga acacia in it. Near them Alec and I found a
place where the number of deserted huts, or gunyahs of the natives
induced us to look about for a well or some other kind of
watering-place. An old well was soon found, which was very shallow; the
water was slightly brackish and not more than three feet below the
surface. How I wished I had known of its existence before, it being not
twenty-five miles from our poison camp, and that some good acacia bushes
grew here also; as it was, I made no use of it. The weather being cool,
and the camels having filled themselves with water at the deep well,
they would not drink. That afternoon we got into a hollow where there
was a low ridge of flat-topped cliffs, and a good deal of mulga timber
in it. Very likely in times of rain a flow of water might be found here,
if there ever are times of rain in such a region. We just cleared the
valley by night, having travelled nearly twenty miles. My latitude here
was 23&deg; 56&acute; 20&acute;&acute; and not desiring to go any
farther north, I inclined my course a little southerly&mdash;that is to
say, in an east by south direction.

<p>We had left the deep well on the 9th June, and not until ten days of
continuous travelling had been accomplished&mdash;it being now the
18th&mdash;did we see any more water. That evening we reached a little
trifling water-channel, with a few small scattered white gum-trees,
coming from a low stony mulga-crowned ridge, and by digging in it we
found a slight soakage of water. Here we dug a good-sized tank, which
the water partly filled, and this enabled us to water all the camels.
They had travelled 230 miles from our deep well. For the last two or
three days poor old Buzoe, Alec Ross's riding cow, has been very ill,
and almost unable to travel; she is old and worn out, poor old creature,
having been one of Sir Thomas Elder's original importations from India.
She had always been a quiet, easy-paced old pet, and I was very much
grieved to see her ailing. I did not like to abandon her, and we had to
drag her with a bull camel and beat her along, until she crossed this
instalment of Gibson's Desert: but she never left this spot, which I
have named Buzoe's Grave. I don't think this old cow had been
poisoned&mdash;at least she never showed any signs of it; I believe it
was sheer old age and decay that assailed her at last. The position of
this welcome watered spot was in latitude 24&deg; 33&acute;, and
longitude 123&deg; 57&acute;. It was by wondrous good fortune that we
came upon it, and it was the merest chance that any water was there. In
another day or two there would have been none; as it was, only a little
rainwater, that had not quite ceased to drain down the half-stony,
half-sandy bed of the little gully, was all we got. The weather had been
very disagreeable for some days past, the thermometer in the early dawn
generally indicating 18&deg; while in the middle of the day the heat was
oppressive.

<p>The flies were still about us, in persecuting myriads. The nature of
the country during this march was similar to that previously described,
being quite open, it rolled along in ceaseless undulations of sand. The
only vegetation besides the ever-abounding spinifex was a few
blood-wood-trees on the tops of some of the red heaps of sand, with an
occasional desert oak, an odd patch or clump of mallee-trees, standing
desolately alone, and perhaps having a stunted specimen or two of the
quandong or native peach-tree, and the dreaded Gyrostemon growing among
them. The region is so desolate that it is horrifying even to describe.
The eye of God looking down on the solitary caravan, as with its slow,
and snake-like motion, it presents the only living object around, must
have contemplated its appearance on such a scene with pitying
admiration, as it forced its way continually on; onwards without
pausing, over this vast sandy region, avoiding death only by motion and
distance, until some oasis can be found. Slow as eternity it seems to
move, but certain we trust as death; and truly the wanderer in its wilds
may snatch a fearful joy at having once beheld the scenes, that human
eyes ought never again to see. On the 15th of June we found a hollow in
which were two or three small salt-lake beds, but these were perfectly
dry; on the 16th also another solitary one was seen, and here a few low
rises lay across a part of the eastern horizon. On the 17th a little
water left in the bottom of a bucket overnight was frozen into a thick
cake in the morning, the thermometer indicating 18&deg;. The nights I
pass in these fearful regions are more dreadful than the days, for
&ldquo;night is the time for care, brooding o'er days misspent, when the
pale spectre of despair comes to our lonely tent;&rdquo; and often when
I lay me down I fall into a dim and death-like trance, wakeful, yet
&ldquo;dreaming dreams no mortals had ever dared to dream before.&rdquo;

<p>The few native inhabitants of these regions occasionally burn every
portion of their territories, and on a favourably windy day a spinifex
fire might run on for scores of miles. We occasionally cross such
desolated spaces, where every species of vegetation has been by flames
devoured. Devoured they are, but not demolished, as out of the roots and
ashes of their former natures, phoenix-like, they rise again. A few
Australian eagles are occasionally seen far up in the azure sky,
hovering with astonished gaze, over the unwonted forms below; and as the
leading camels of the caravan frighten some wretched little wallaby from
its lair under a spinifex bunch, instantly the eagle swoops from its
height, and before the astonished creature has had time to find another
refuge he is caught in the talons of his foe. We also are on the watch,
and during the momentary struggle, before the eagle can so quiet his
victim as to be able to fly away with it, up gallops Reechy, Alec and
Tommy, and very often we secure the prize. Round this spot at Buzoe's
Grave, just while the water lasts I suppose, there were crows, small
hawks, a few birds like cockatoos, and many bronze-winged pigeons. Some
natives also were hovering near, attracted probably by the sight of
strange smoke. The natives of these regions signal with different kinds
of smoke by burning different woods or bark, and know a strange smoke in
an instant. Some smokes which they make, go up like a thin white column,
others are dark and tower-like, while others again are broad and
scattered. These natives would not come to visit us. The small marsupial
wallaby, which I mentioned just now, exists throughout the whole of
these deserts; they live entirely without water, as do many small birds
we occasionally see where there is a patch of timber. The wallabies hide
during the day amongst the spinifex bushes, and feed, like other
rodents, on their roots at night. Another way of getting some of these
wallabies was by knocking them over, blackfellow fashion, with a short
stick, when startled from their hiding-places. Tommy used to work very
hard at this game, and we usually got one a day for food for our little
dogs. They are exceedingly good eating, being very like rabbits in size
and taste. We remained at this little oasis, I suppose I may call
it&mdash;at least it was so to us, though I should not like to return to
it with any expectation of getting water again, for when we left, the
water had ceased to drain in, and there were only a few pints of thick
muddy fluid left in the tank at the end of our three days' rest. The
place might well be termed the centre of silence and solitude; despair
and desolation are the only intruders here upon sad solitude's
triumphant reign. Well may the traveller here desire for more inhabited
lands; rather to contend with fierce and warlike men; to live amongst
far noisier deaths, or die amid far louder dangers! I often declare
that:&mdash;

<p class="poem">&ldquo;I'll to Afric lion haunted,
<br>Baboons blood I'll daily quaff; 
<br>And I'll go a tiger-hunting
<br>On a thorough-bred giraffe.&rdquo;

<p>Whenever we had east winds in this region, the weather was cool and
agreeable; but when they blow from any other quarter, it becomes much
hotter, and the flies return in myriads to annoy us. Where they get to
when an east wind blows, the east wind only knows.

<p>Leaving Buzoe's Grave, which had proved a godsend to us, with a swarm
of eagles, crows, hawks, vultures, and at night wild dogs, eating up her
carcase, in four days' farther travel we neared the spot from the west,
where the Alfred and Marie Ranges lie. The first sight of these ranges
from the east, had cost my former horse expedition into this region so
dear. I could not help believing that the guiding hand of a gracious
Providence had upon that occasion prevented me from obtaining my heart's
desire to reach them; for had I then done so, I know now, having proved
what kind of country lay beyond that, neither I nor any of my former
party would ever have returned. Assuredly there is a Providence that
shapes our ends, rough hew them how we will. These hills were in reality
much lower than they appeared to be, when looked at from the east; in
fact, they were so low and uninteresting, that I did not investigate
them otherwise than with field-glasses. We passed by the northern end,
and though the southern end was a little higher, I could see that there
were no watering-places possible other than chance rock receptacles, and
of these there were no signs. At the northern end we came upon a small
shallow kind of stony pan, where a little rain-water was yet lying,
proving that the rains we had experienced in May, before leaving the
western watershed, must have extended into the desert. We reached this
drop of water on the 25th of June, and the camels drank it all up while
we rested on the 26th. After five days' more travelling over the same
kind of desert as formerly described, except that the sand-mounds rose
higher yet in front of us, still progressing eastwards, the
well-remembered features of the Rawlinson Range and the terrible Mount
Destruction rose at last upon my view.

<p>On reaching the range, I suppose I may say that the exploring part of
my expedition was at an end, for I had twice traversed Australia; and
although many hundreds of miles had yet to be travelled before we should
reach the abodes of civilisation, the intervening country had all been
previously explored by myself. For a full account of my former
explorations into this region, I must refer my reader to the chapters on
my second expedition. The first water we reached in the Rawlinson Range
was at a rock-hole about ten miles eastwards from the Circus water, the
place from whence Gibson and I started to explore to the west. His
death, the loss of all the horses, and my struggles to regain my depot
on foot, are they not written in the chronicles of that expedition?

<p>On reaching my former depot at Fort McKellar, I found the whole place
so choked up with shrubs and bushes, that it was quite impossible to
camp there, without wasting a week in cutting the vegetation away,
although it had formerly been sufficiently open for an explorer's camp.
The spring was running as strong as ever. The bridge had been washed
away. However, at less than a mile from it, there was Tyndall's Spring,
with an open shady space, among the clump of fine gum-trees, which gave
us an excellent camping-place. Here the camp remained for some days. A
line of green bulrushes fringed this spring. While the main party camped
here, I once more tried to find some remains or traces of my lost
companion Gibson, taking with me only Tommy Oldham. It was quite a
forlorn hope, as Gibson had gone away with only one horse; and since we
reached the range, we had passed over places where I knew that all the
horses I then had with me had gone over the ground, but no signs of
former horse-tracks could be seen, therefore the chance of finding any
traces of a single animal was infinitesimal. Tommy and I expended three
days in trying to discover traces, but it was utterly useless, and we
returned unsuccessful to the depot.

<p>Singular to say, on this attempt I found a place west from the end,
the Rawlinson Range, where there were some rock-holes on a grassy mulga
flat, but we did not require the water, as the camels would not drink.
Had I come upon this spot when I was in this region before, it might
have saved Gibson and all the horses that were lost with him. I called
this little watered spot, Tommy's Flat; the latitude of it is 24&deg;
52&acute; 3&acute;&acute;. It bears 9&deg; south of west from a peculiar
red sandhill that is visible from any of the hills at the western
extremity of the Rawlinson Range; and lies in a flat or hollow between
the said red sandhill, and the nearest of a few low stony hills, about
four miles farther away to the west. On visiting the Circus, I found the
water-hole was full and deep. This was very different from its state
when I had seen it last. The recording eagle still was sitting immovable
on his crag, Prometheus-like, apparently chained to the rock.

<p>On the 11th of July, the main party having been encamped at Tyndall's
Springs for seven days, we departed for Sladen Water, at the Pass of the
Abencerrages. All the other places previously mentioned on the range,
had plenty of water running on for ever, though at the Pass the supply
was rather lower than I had seen it previously. There was, however,
quite enough for all our requirements. The little sweet-water spring was
bubbling up, and running over as of yore. Both at Fort McKellar and here
I found that the bones of the horses we had smoked and eaten had been
removed by the natives, or wild dogs. At Fort McKellar the smoke-house
frame had either fallen or been knocked down; while here, at the Pass,
the natives had removed the timber, and placed portions of it in
different places and positions. We saw none of the natives belonging to
the range, although their smokes were a very short distance away. Sladen
Water was always a favourite spot with me, and we rested a day at it for
old association's sake.

<p>On the 14th of July we left the place, and travelled along my former
route, via Gill's Pinnacle, and all the other watering-places mentioned
in my preceding narrative. The Petermann Range looked green and
beautiful. It had evidently been visited by rains. A portion of the
Rawlinson and the Petermann Ranges were the only spots for hundreds of
miles of which this could be said. The Hull here runs near the boundary
of the two colonies of South, and Western Australia, and crossing it, we
entered the former province once more. When nearly at the eastern end of
the Petermann&mdash;that is to say, close to Mount Phillips&mdash;we
camped in Winter's Glen, where the whole tribes of the Petermann were
located. They instantly armed themselves, and endeavoured to prevent our
progress. Several of them recognised me, and I them; for in my first
visit to this range, with Tietkens, we had three encounters with them.
They evidently intended mischief again; but they kept off until morning,
and we then, being in full marching order, with our firearms in our
hands, and all walking alongside of the camels and ready for attack,
managed to pass away from them without a collision. Leaving their
country behind us, we went via the Sugar-loaf, and thence to the
Musgrave Ranges, not now revisiting the marvellous Mount Olga; we
entered the range near Glen Watson. There was plenty of water in the
glen, but the country, in general, about the range, was in a very dry
state. As, however, it has permanent springs, we had no difficulty from
want of water. When nearly at the eastern end of the Musgrave Range, a
number of natives came to interview the caravan, and actually pulled
some coats and blankets off Nicholls's and Tommy's riding camels, and
ran away with them. They had previously begged Nicholls to shoot
kangaroos for them, thereby showing that they remembered the use of
firearms, which formerly I had been compelled to teach them.

<h5><a name="i45">ILLUSTRATION 45</a></h5>
<center>
<p><img src="oz2t45.jpg" alt="">
</center>
<h5>GLEN FERDINAND.</h5>

<p>I was away from the party when this robbery was committed. Near the
eastern end of this range it will be remembered I had formerly
discovered a large watercourse, with a fine spring running along its
bed, which I called the Ferdinand; here we encamped again. From hence I
determined to reach the South Australian Telegraph Line upon a new
route, and to follow the Ferdinand, which runs to the south. A mass of
hills that I had formerly seen and named the Everard Ranges, lay in that
direction, and I desired to visit them also. At and around the water at
Glen Ferdinand, as well as at other places on this range, considerable
quantities of dung, old tracks, and sleeping camps of cattle were found,
but no live animals were seen.

<p>After resting a day at Glen Ferdinand we departed, following the
banks of the creek. Just at leaving, an old black man and two lads made
their appearance. This old party was remarkably shy; the elder boy
seemed a little frightened, and didn't relish being touched by a white
man, but the youngest was quite at his ease, and came up to me with the
audacity and insouciance of early youth, and pulled me about. When I
patted him, he grinned like any other monkey. None of them were
handsome; the old man was so monkey-like&mdash;he would have charmed the
heart of Professor Darwin. I thought I had found the missing link, and I
had thoughts of preserving him in methylated spirits, only I had not a
bottle large enough.

<p>Following the channel of the Ferdinand nearly south, we came to some
limestone rises with one or two native wells, but no water was seen in
them. The country was good, grassy, nearly level, with low, sandy, mulga
rises, fit for stock of any kind. There were a few detached granite
hills, peeping here and there amongst the tree-tops. The creek-channel
appeared to run through, or close to, some of the hills of the Everard
Ranges; and I left it to visit them. At one of the outcropping granite
mounds, at about forty-eight miles from Glen Ferdinand, Alec Ross found
a large native well, which bore 12&deg; east of south from Mount
Ferdinand, a conspicuous point overlooking the glen. We did not require
to use this well, but there was plenty of water in it. Arriving at the
first hills of the Everard, I found they were all very peculiar, bare,
red, granite mounds, being the most extraordinary ranges one could
possibly imagine, if indeed any one could imagine such a scene. They
have thousands of acres of bare rock, piled up into mountainous shapes
and lay in isolated masses, forming something like a broken circle, all
round a central and higher mass. They have valleys filled with scrubs
between each section. Numerous rocky glens and gorges were seen, having
various kinds of shrubs and low trees growing in the interstices of the
rocks. Every thing and every place was parched, bare, and dry. We
searched in many places for water without success.

<p>At length some natives made their appearance, and showed us where
water could be had by digging. This was a most disagreeable and awkward
spot to get the camels to, but after a great deal of labour in making a
tank, and rolling boulders of rock out of the way, we were enabled to
give them a drink. There was but a very poor supply.

<p>The water we got here was in a small gum-creek under the highest hill
in the centre of the group upon its northern face. The summit of the
hill above it bore 21&deg; east of south, from Mount Ferdinand, in the
Musgrave Ranges, and it is sixty-four miles from my camp at Glen
Ferdinand water. Alec and Tommy searched for, and found, some other
water in rock-holes at the back or south side of this central hill,
nearly three miles round. Several more natives came to the camp, and
some of them worked a little at watering the camels, but were greatly
scandalised at seeing them drink such enormous quantities, and no doubt,
in their heart of hearts, they were grieved that they had shown us the
place. And in order to recoup themselves in some measure for their
romantic generosity, they quietly walked away with several unconsidered
trifles out of the camp, such as ration bags, towels, socks, etc. These
thefts always occur when I am away. I made one old gentleman who took
some things disgorge his loot, and he and his friend who had dined with
us went away, in the last stage of displeasure. There are apparently but
few natives about here just now; had there been more of them we might
have had some trouble, as indeed I subsequently had at the rock-holes at
the back of this hill.

<p>The following day we went round to Alec's rock-holes, intending to
have dinner, water the camels if they would drink, and fill our casks
before plunging again into the scrubs that extended everywhere to the
south. To the east a flat-topped, bluff-faced hill was visible. While we
were at dinner several natives came and assisted us, and pointed in a
direction a little west of south, where they said water existed. The
whole space round the foot of the rocks here is choked up with a thick
and vigorous growth of the native fig-trees, which grow somewhat like
banyan-trees, except that suckers do not descend from the upper branches
and take root in the ground alongside the parent stem; but the roots of
this tree run along the rocks to find crevices with soil, and then a
fresh growth springs up; in general it does not grow very high, twenty
feet is about the limit. There was a small creek channel, and mulga
scrubs to the west of it, that grew right up to the bank, and any party
camping here would be completely hemmed in. I am particular in
describing the place, as on a subsequent occasion, myself and the party
then with me, escaped death there. I will relate the circumstances
further on. Now we left the place after dinner, and the natives
accompanied us; we camped in mulga scrubs at about ten miles from the
rocks. These young darkies seemed very good, and friendly fellows; in
all wild tribes of Australian natives, the boys and very young men, as
well as the girls and women, seem to take immediately to white men. The
young children, however, are generally very much frightened; but it is
the vile and wicked old men that are the arch-villains of the piece, and
who excite the passions of the juniors of the tribe to commit all sorts
of atrocities.

<p>These fellows were the best of friends with my men and myself; we
were laughing and joking and generally having a good time. I amused them
greatly by passing a stick through my nose; I had formerly gone through
an excruciating operation for that purpose, and telling them I once had
been a black fellow. They spoke but little English, and it was mostly
through a few words that Alec Ross knew, of the Peake, Macumba, or
Alberga tribes that we could talk to each other at all. After this we
got them map-making on the sand. They demonstrated that the Ferdinand,
which we had left, and had still on our right or west of us, running
south, swept round suddenly to the eastwards and now lay across the
country in front of us; that in its further progress it ran into, and
formed a lake, then continuing, it at last reached a big salt lake,
probably Lake Eyre; they also said we should get water by digging in the
sand in the morning, when we struck the Ferdinand channel again. Soon
after we started and were proceeding on our course, south 26&deg; west,
from the rock-water, the natives all fell back and we saw no more of
them. In twenty miles we came to the creek, and turning down its channel
eastwards we found the well of which they had told us. There was plenty
of water in it, no doubt, but we did not require it. The well seemed
rather deep. We followed the creek for some distance, at length it
became very undefined, and the gum timber disappeared. Only a few acacia
bushes now indicated the flow of the water over the grassy mulga flats,
which wound about so much around sandhills in the scrub, that I left the
creek, and pushed on now for the South Australian Telegraph Line.

<p>I will now give a rapid account of what I said was a narrow escape
from death at those rock-holes we had just left. I may say in passing,
that what I have recorded as my travels and explorations in Australia in
these volumes, are probably not half of what I have really performed,
only I divide them under the two headings of public and private
explorations.

<p>In the month of December, 1882, I was in this part of the world
again. During the six years that had elapsed since my last visit in
1876, a survey party had reached these ranges on a trigonometrical
survey, and upon its return, the officer in charge reported having had
some trouble and a collision with the natives of the Everard Range. I
suppose my second visit occurred two years after that event. I was
accompanied on that journey by a very young friend, named Vernon
Edwards, from Adelaide, and two young men named Perkins and Fitz, the
latter being cook, and a very good fellow he proved to be, but Perkins
was nothing of the sort. I had a black boy named Billy, and we had
twelve camels. I approached the Everard Range from the south-westward,
having found a good watering-place, which I called Verney's Wells, in
that direction. There, we met a lot of natives who did not belong to the
Everard Range tribes. At Verney's Wells we had a grand corrobboree in
the warm moonlight; my young men and black boy stripped themselves, and
young and old, black and white, danced and yelled, and generally made
the night hideous with their noise till early morning. After the ball a
grand supper was laid for our exhausted blackmen and brothers. The
material of this feast was hot water, flour, and sugar mixed into a
consistent skilly. I had told the cook to make the gruel thick and slab,
and then pour it out on sheets of bark. Our guests supplied themselves
with spoons, or rather we cut them out of bark for them, and they helped
themselves ad lib. A dozen pounds of flour sufficed to feed a whole
multitude. We left Verney's Wells and made up to the well in the
Ferdinand that I have just mentioned. This we opened out with shovels,
and found a very good supply of water. From thence we proceeded to my
old dinner-camp at the range, where, as I said before, the whole space
about, was filled up with fig-trees. Almost immediately upon our
appearance, we heard the calls and cries and saw the signal smokes, of
the natives. We had to clear a space for the camp and put up an awning.
The water in the two lower holes was so low that the camels could not
reach it, nor could we get enough out with a bucket. There was plenty of
water in the holes above, and as it was all bare rock we set to work,
some of the natives assisting, to bale the water out of some of the
upper holes and splash it over the rocks into the lower. The weather was
very hot, and some of the old men sat or lay down quite at their ease in
our shade. The odours that exude from the persons of elderly black
gentlemen, especially those not addicted to the operation of bathing,
would scarcely remind one of the perfumes of Araby the Blest, or
Australia Felix either, therefore I ordered these intruders out.
Thereupon they became very saucy and disagreeable, and gave me to
understand that this was their country and their
water&mdash;carpee&mdash;and after they had spoken in low guttural tones
to some of the younger men, the latter departed. Of course I knew what
this meant; they were to signal for and collect, all the tribe for an
attack. I could read this purpose in their glances. I have had so much
to do with these Australian peoples that, although I cannot speak all
their languages&mdash;for nearly every ten miles a totally different one
may be used&mdash;yet a good deal of the language of several tribes is
familiar to me, and all their gestures speak to me in English. I could
at any rate now see that mischief was brewing. Near sundown we spread a
large tarpaulin on the ground to lay our blankets, rugs, etc., to sleep
on. When I had arranged my bed, several old men standing close by, the
master-fiend, deliberately threw himself down on my rugs. I am rather
particular about my rugs and bedding, and this highly though
disagreeably perfumed old reptile, all greasy with rotten fat, lying
down on and soiling them, slightly annoyed me; and not pretending to be
a personification of sweetness and light, I think I annoyed him a great
deal more, for I gave him as good a thrashing with a stick as he ever
received, and he went away spitting at us, bubbling over with wrath and
profanity, and called all the tribe after him, threatening us with the
direst retribution. They all went to the west, howling, yelling, and
calling to one another.

<p>Young Verney Edwards was always most anxious to get a lot of natives'
spears and other weapons, and I said, &ldquo;Now, Verney, here's a
chance for you. You see the blacks have cleared out to the west, now if
you go up the foot of the hill to the east, the first big bushy tree you
see, you will find it stuck thick with spears. You can have them all if
you like. But,&rdquo; I added, &ldquo;it's just suppertime now, you had
better have supper first.&rdquo; &ldquo;Oh no,&rdquo; he said,
&ldquo;I'll go and get them at once if you think they are there,&rdquo;
and away he went. I was expecting the enemy to return, and we had all
our firearms in readiness alongside of us on the tarpaulin where we sat
down to supper. I had a cartridge-pouch full of cartridges close to my
tin plate, and my rifle lay alongside also. Jimmy Fitz, Perkins, Billy
the black boy, and I, had just begun to eat when we heard a shot from
Verney's revolver. I did not take very much notice, as he was always
firing at wallaby, or birds, or anything; but on another shot following
we all jumped up, and ran towards him. As we did so we heard Verney
calling and firing again; Perkins seized my cartridge pouch in his
excitement, and I had to get more cartridges from my saddle. In the
meantime shots were going off, howls and yells rent the air, and when I
got up the enemy had just formed in line. Another discharge decided the
conflict, and drove them off.

<p>When Verney left the camp he found a bushy tree, as I had told him,
stuck full of spears, and while he was deliberating as to which of those
weapons he should choose, being on the west side of the bush, he
suddenly found himself surrounded by a host of stealthy wretches, most
of whom were already armed, all running down towards the camp. Some ran
to this bush for their weapons, and were in the act of rushing down on
to the camp, and would have speared us as we sat at supper, at their
ease, from behind the thick fig-trees' shelter. Verney was so astounded
at seeing them, and they were so astounded at seeing him, that it
completely upset their tactics; for they naturally thought we were all
there, and when Verney fired, it so far checked the advance column, that
they paused for a second, while the rear guard ran up. Then some from
behind threw spears through the bush at Verney. He fired again, and
called to us, and we arrived in time to send the enemy off, as fast as,
if not faster, than they had come. It was a very singular circumstance
that turned these wretches away; if Verney hadn't gone for the spears,
they could have sneaked upon, and killed us, without any chance of our
escape. We must have risen a good deal in their estimation as
strategists, for they were fairly out-generalled by chance, while they
must have thought it was design. After the dispersion, they reappeared
on the top of the rocks some distance away, and threw spears down; but
they were too far off; and when we let them see how far our rifle
bullets could be sent, they gave several parting howls and disappeared.

<p>I decided to keep watch to-night; there was a star passing the
meridian soon after eleven, and I wished to take an observation by it. I
told the others to turn in, as I would watch till then. Nearly at the
time just mentioned, I was seated cross-legged on my rugs facing the
north, taking my observation with the sextant and artificial horizon,
when I thought I saw something faintly quivering at the corner of my
left eye. I kept the sextant still elevated, and turned my head very
slowly half way round, and there I saw the enemy, creeping out of the
mulga timber on the west side of the little creek channel, and ranging
themselves in lines. It was a very dusky, cloudy, but moonlight night. I
dared not make any quick movement, but slowly withdrawing my right hand
from the sextant, I took hold of my rifle which lay close alongside. A
second of time was of the greatest importance, for the enemy were all
ranged, and just ready balancing their spears, and in another instant
there would have been a hundred spears thrown into the camp. I suddenly
put down the sextant, and having the rifle almost in position, I grabbed
it suddenly with my left hand and fired into the thickest mob, whereupon
a horrible howling filled the midnight air. Seizing Verney's rifle that
was close by, I fired it and dispersed the foe. All the party were lying
fast asleep on the tarpaulin, but my two shots quickly awoke them. I
made them watch in turns till morning, with orders to fire two rifle
cartridges every half hour, and the agony of suspense in waiting to hear
these go off, kept me awake the whole night, like Carlyle and his
neighbours' fowls.

<p>Our foes did not again appear. At the first dawn of light, over at
some rocky hills south-westward, where, during the night, we saw their
camp fires, a direful moaning chant arose. It was wafted on the hot
morning air across the valley, echoed again by the rocks and hills above
us, and was the most dreadful sound I think I ever heard; it was no
doubt a death-wail. From their camp up in the rocks, the chanters
descended to the lower ground, and seemed to be performing a funereal
march all round the central mass, as the last tones we heard were from
behind the hills, where it first arose.

<p>To resume: we left the almost exhausted channel of the Ferdinand, and
pushed on for the Telegraph Line. In the sandhills and scrub we came
upon an open bit of country, in latitude 27&deg; 35&acute;
34&acute;&acute;, and found a shallow well, at which we encamped on the
evening of August 11th. In sixty miles farther, going nearly east by
north, the nature of the country entirely altered; the scrubs fell off,
and an open stony country, having low, flat-topped ridges or
table-lands, succeeded. This was a sure indication of our near approach
to the Telegraph Line, as it is through a region of that kind, that the
line runs in this latitude. I turned more northerly for a waterhole in
the Alberga, called Appatinna, but we found it quite dry. There were two
decrepit old native women, probably left there to starve and die by
their tribe. I gave them some food and water, but they were almost too
far gone to eat. From thence, travelling south-easterly, we came upon
the Neale's River, in forty miles. At twenty miles farther down the
Neale's, which was quite dry as far as we travelled on it, going
easterly, we arrived at Mount O'Halloran, a low hill round whose base
the Trans-Continental Telegraph Line and road sweeps, at what is called
the Angle Pole, sixty miles from the Peake Telegraph Station. We were
very short of water, and could not find any, the country being in a very
dry state. We pushed on, and crossed the stony channel of a watercourse
called the St. Cecilia, which was also dry. The next water that I knew
of, between us and the Peake, was a spring near Hann's Creek, about
thirty miles from the Peake. However, on reaching Hann's Creek, we found
sufficient water for our requirements, although it was rather brackish.
Moving on again we reached the Peake Telegraph Station on the 23rd of
August, and were most cordially received and welcomed by my old friend
Mr. Chandler, Mr. Flynn, the police trooper, and every one else at that
place.

<hr>

<h4><a name="ch5.5">CHAPTER 5.5. FROM 23RD AUGUST TO 20TH SEPTEMBER, 1876.</a></h4>
<blockquote>
Depart for the south.
Arrive at Beltana.
Camels returned to their depot.
The Blinman Mine.
A dinner.
Coach journey to the Burra-Burra Mines.
A banquet and address.
Rail to Adelaide.
Reception at the Town Hall.
A last address.
Party disbanded.
Remarks.
The end.
</blockquote>
<p>Being among such good friends at the Peake, we naturally remained a
few days before we left for Adelaide; nothing remarkable occurred on the
road down. At Beltana the camels were returned to their depot. The
Blinman Copper Mine is about thirty miles from there, and was then, the
terminus of the mail coach line from Adelaide. The residents of the
Blinman invited Alec Ross and myself to a dinner, presided over by my
very good friend Mr. J.B. Buttfield, the Resident Police Magistrate.
Then we all took the mail coach, and reached the Burra-Burra Copper
Mines, on the evening of the next day. Here a banquet was held in our
honour, at which a number of ladies attended, and I was presented with a
very handsome address. The Burra Mines are a hundred miles from
Adelaide.

<p>Next day we took the train for the city. At the town of Gawler, or,
as it used to be called, Gawlertown, twenty-five miles from the
metropolis, a number of gentlemen were assembled to welcome us on the
platform. Our healths were drank in champagne, and an address presented
to me. Pursuing our journey, Adelaide was reached by midday. A number of
people were waiting the arrival of the train, and when we alighted we
were welcomed with cheers. Carriages were in attendance to take us to
the Town Hall, where we were welcomed by Caleb Peacock, Esquire, the
Mayor,&mdash;who first invited us to refreshments, and then presented us
to the citizens, who were crowded in the large hall. Mr. Peacock made a
very eloquent and eulogistic speech, and presented me with a very
handsome address on behalf of himself, the Corporation, and the citizens
of Adelaide. The next day the party was disbanded, and the expedition
was at an end.

<p>A few closing remarks, I suppose I may make. We again joined the
great family of civilised mankind; and if I have any readers who have
followed my story throughout its five separate phases, I may account
myself fortunate indeed. A long array of tautological detail is
inseparable from the records of Australian, as well as any other
exploration, because it must be remembered that others, who come after,
must be guided by the experiences and led to places, and waters, that
the first traveller discovers; and am I to be blamed if I have
occasionally mixed up my narrative with an odd remark, anecdote, or
imaginative idea? These, I trust, will not in my reader's opinion
detract from any merits it may possess. I have collected many thousands
of plants and hundreds of entomological and geological specimens; a
great portion of the list of the former and all of the latter have
unfortunately been lost, only a list of plants collected during my first
and second expeditions now remains, which appears at the end of these
volumes.

<p>It is with regret I have had to record the existence of such large
areas of desert land encountered in my travels in Australia. The
emigrant, however, need have no fear on that account. The scenes of his
avocations will be far removed from them. They are no more a check to
emigration now than fifty years ago. As a final remark, I may say my
former companion in the field, Mr. W.H. Tietkens, has just returned from
a fresh exploration of the country in the vicinity of Lake Amadeus, and
the report of his travels should be looked forward to with pleasure by
all who take any interest in our Colonial dependencies.

<p>If my narrative has no other recommendation, it may at least serve to
while away a vacant hour, and remind my readers of something better,
they have read before. It was not for what I had written, that I hoped
to reap the good opinion of the world, but for what I have done, and
that I have recorded. Any one who is sufficiently interested to read
these pages, may well understand the trials and dangers that have beset
my path. The number of miles of previously unknown country that I have
explored reaches to the sum of many thousands. The time I expended was
five of the best years of my life. As a recognition of my labours, I
have received the Patron's Gold Medal of the Royal Geographical Society
of London; and the late King Victor Emanuel sent me a decoration and
diploma of Knighthood, of the Order of the Crown of Italy.

<p>To a man accustomed to camels for exploration, the beautiful horse
sinks into the insignificance of a pigmy when compared to his majestic
rival, the mighty ship of the desert, and assuredly had it not been for
these creatures and their marvellous powers, I never could have
performed the three last journeys which complete my public explorations
in Australia.

<p>I have called my book The Romance of Exploration; the romance is in
the chivalry of the achievement of difficult and dangerous, if not
almost impossible, tasks. Should I again be called on to enter the Field
of Discovery, although to scenes remote from my former Australian
sphere, I should not be the explorer I have represented myself in these
pages, if, even remembering the perils of my former adventures, I should
shrink from facing new. An explorer is an explorer from love, and it is
nature, not art, that makes him so.

<p>The history of Australian exploration, though not yet quite complete,
is now so far advanced towards its end, that only minor details now are
wanting, to fill the volume up; and though I shall not attempt to rank
myself amongst the first or greatest, yet I think I have reason to call
myself, the last of the Australian explorers.

<p>As a last remark, I may say the following lines may convey some of my
real feelings towards:&mdash;

<p class="poem">AUSTRALIA.
<br>
<br>What though no hist'ries old,
<br>Rest o'er that land of gold; 
<br>And though no bard has told
<br>Tales, of her clime:
<br>
<br>What though no tow'r display,
<br>Man's work of other days; 
<br>And, though her sun's bright rays
<br>In the old time; 
<br>
<br>Gleam'd on no mighty fanes,
<br>Built by the toiling pains
<br>Of slaves, in galling chains,
<br>In the earth's prime.
<br>
<br>Hers is a new bright land; 
<br>By God's divine command,
<br>Where each industr'us hand,
<br>Willing to toil; 
<br>
<br>What though no song records,
<br>Deeds of her martial hordes,
<br>Who made, with conquering swords,
<br>Heroes sublime.
<br>
<br>Gathers the fruits of peace,
<br>Gathers the golden fleece,
<br>And the fair earth's increase,
<br>From the rich soil.
<br>
<br>Hers is a flow'ry crown; 
<br>Science and Hope look down
<br>On each new glitt'ring town,
<br>Whose structures rise; 
<br>
<br>And to Time's latest age,
<br>Hers shall, the brightest page,
<br>Written by bard or sage,
<br>Be, 'neath the skies.

<hr>

<h3><a name="appendix">APPENDIX.</a></h3>

<h4>LIST OF PLANTS</h4>

<h5>COLLECTED BY ERNEST GILES, F.R.G.S.,</h5>

<h5>DURING HIS FIRST AND SECOND EXPLORING EXPEDITIONS,</h5>

<h5>1872-1874.</h5>

<h5>(ARRANGED BY BARON VON MUELLER.)</h5>

<h5>[Further arranged according to <i>Flora of South Australia</i> Author: J.M.Black and <i>Supplement</i> (1965)]</h5>

<h5>DILLENIACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Hibbertia glaberrima, F.M., Fragm. 3, 1.
<dd>Mount Olga, Glen of Palms.</dd>
</dl>
<h5>[Brassicaceae =] CRUCIFERAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Menkea sphaerocarpa, F.M., Fragm. 8, 223.
<dd>Near Mount Olga.
<dt>[Lepidium oxytrichum] Lepidium papillosum, F.M. in Linnaea 25, 370.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
<dt>[Lepidium rotundum] Lepidium phlebopetalum, F.M., Plants of Vict. 1, 47.
<dd>Between the River Finke and Lake Eyre.
<dt>[Blennodia trisecta] Sisymbrium trisectum, F.M., Transact. Vict. Inst. 1, 114.
<dd>Near Lake Eyre and Mount Olga.
</dl>
<h5>[Capparidaceae] CAPPARIDEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Cleome viscosa, L. Sp. Pl., 938.
<dd>Rawlinson's Range.
<dt>[Capparis mitchellii] Capparis Mitchelli, Lindl. in Mitch. Three Exped. 1, 315.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range, Mount Udor.
</dl>
<h5>[Pittosporaceae] PITTOSPOREAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Pittosporum phillyroides, Cand. Prodr. 1, 347.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga, also on Gosse's Range.
</dl>
<h5>DROSERACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[Drosera indica] Drosera Indici, L. Sp., 403.
<dd>Rawlinson's Range.
<dt>[?] Drosera Burmanni, Vahl., Symb. 3, 50.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
</dl>
<h5>[Polygalaceae] POLYGALEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[?] Comesperma silvestre, Lindl. in Mitch. Trop. Austr., 342.
<dd>Between MacDonnell's and Gill's Ranges.
</dl>
<h5>VIOLACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[?] Ionidium aurantiacum, F.M. in Benth. Fl. Austr. 1, 102.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
</dl>
<h5>GERANIACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Oxalis corniculata L. Sp., 624.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
</dl>
<h5>TILIACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[?] Corchorus sidoides, F.M., Fragm. 3, 9.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
</dl>
<h5>MALVACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Hibiscus Farragei, F.M., Fragm. 8, 241.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Hibiscus Sturtii, Hook. in Mitch. Trop. Austr., 363.
<dd>Rawlinson's Range.
<dt>[Hibiscus brachychlaenus] Hibiscus microchlaenus, F.M., Fragm. 2, 116.
<dd>Rawlinson's Range.
<dt>[Gossypium sturtianum] Gossypium Sturtii, F.M., Fragm. 3, 6.
<dd>On Mount Olga, also towards the Alberga, Gosse's Range, and MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>[?] Abutilon diplotrichum, F.M. in Linnaea 25, 380.
<dd>Between Lake Eyre and the River Finke.
<dt>Abutilon halophilum, F.M. in Linnaea 25, 381.
<dd>Near Lake Eyre.
<dt>Sida cardiophylla, F.M., Fragm. 8, 242.
<dd>Rawlinson's Range.
<dt>[Sida platycalyx] Sida inclusa, Benth., Flor. Austr. 1, 197.
<dd>Rawlinson's Range, MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Sida cryphiopetala, F.M., Fragm. 2, 4.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Sida virgata, Hook. in Mitch. Trop. Austr., 361.
<dd>Mount Olga.
<dt>Sida petrophila, F.M. in Linnaea 25, 381.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>[Sida trichopoda] Sida corrugata, Lindl. in Mitch. Three Exped. 2, 13.
<dd>Lake Eyre, Mount Olga, Gosse's Range, MacDonnell's Range, Lake Amadeus.
<dt>Malvastrum spicatum, As. Gr. Plant Fendl., 23.
<dd>Near Lake Eyre.
<dt>Plagianthus glomeratus, Benth. in Journ. of Linn. Soc. 6, 103.
<dd>Near Lake Eyre.
</dl>
<h5>STERCULIACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[?] Keraudrenia nephrosperma, Benth., Fl. Austr. 1, 246.
<dd>Mount Olga, MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>[?] Keraudrenia Hookeriana, Walp. Annal. 2, 164.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Rulingia magniflora F.M., Fragm. 8, 223.
<dd>Mount Olga.
<dt>[?] Rulingia loxophylla, F.M., Fragm. 1, 68.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Brachychiton Gregorii, F.M. in Hook. Kew Mis. 9, 199.
<dd>Mount Stevenson, MacDonnell's Range, Carmichael's Creek, Mount Udor. The specific position, in the absence of flowers and fruit, not to be ascertained beyond doubts from the material secured.
</dl>
<h5>FRANKENIACAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Frankenia pauciflora, Cand. Prodr. 1, 350.
<dd>Lake Eyre, River Finke.
</dl>
<h5>[Zygophyllaceae] ZYGOPHYLLEAE</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Tribulus terrestris, L. Sp., 554.
<dd>Rawlinson's Range.
<dt>Tribulus Hystrix, R. Br., App. to Sturt's Centr. Austr., 6.
<dd>Near Lake Amadeus.
<dt>[Zygophyllum aurantiacum] Zygophyllum fruticulosum, Cand. Prodr. 1, 705.
<dd>Near Lake Eyre.
</dl>
<h5>SAPINDACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Atalaya hemiglauca, F.M. in Benth. Fl. Austr 1, 463.<dd>MacDonnell's Range and Lake Amadeus.
<dt>Dodonaea viscosa, L. Mantiss., 231
<dd>Alberga, Mount Olga, Rawlinson's Range, Barrow's Range,
D. microzyga, F.M., Plants of Stuart's Exped., 1862. page 12, is known from the Neale River.
<dt>[?] Diplopeltis Stuartii, F.M., Fragm. 3, 12.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
</dl>
<h5>[Phytolaccaceae] PHYTOLACCEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Codonocarpus cotinifolius, F.M., Plants of Vict. 1, 200.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
<dt>Gyrostemon ramulosus, Desf. in Mem. Du Mus. 6, 17, t. 6.
<dd>Glen of Palms.
<dt>[Gyrostemon australasicus] Cyclotheca Australasica, Mog. in Cand. Prodr. 13, Sect. 2, 38.
<dd>Mount Olga, Rawlinson's Range, Barrow's Range.
</dl>
<h5>[Caryophyllaceae] CARYOPHYLLEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Polycarpaea corymbosa, Lam. 3, N., 2798.
<dd>Glen of Palms.
</dl>
<h5>[Aizoaceae] FICOIDEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Trianthema crystallina, Vahl., Symb. 1, 32.
<dd>Near Lake Eyre.
<dt>Aizoon zygophylloides, F.M., Fragm. 7, 129.
<dd>Between Lake Eyre and the River Finke.
</dl>
<h5>[Portulacaceae] PORTULACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[Calandrinia balonensis] Calandrinia Balonnensis, Lindl. in Mitch. Trop. Austr., 148.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Portulaca oleracea, L. Sp. Pl., 638.
<dd>Towards MacDonnell's Range.
</dl>
<h5>[Chenopodiaceae] SALSOLACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Rhagodia nutans, R. Br., Prodr., 408.
<dd>Lake Eyre.
<dt>Rhagodia spinescens, R. Br., Prodr., 408.
<dd>Lake Eyre.
<dt>Chenopodium carinatum, R. Br., Prodr., 407.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
<dt>Babbagia dipterocarpa, F.M., Rep. on Babb. Pl., 21.
<dd>Lake Eyre.
<dt>Kochia villosa, Lindl. in Mitch. Trop. Austr., 91.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
</dl>
<h5>[Amaranthaceae] AMARANTACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Hemichroa mesembryanthema, F.M., Fragm. 8, 38.
<dd>Lake Eyre.
<dt>[Amaranthus mitchellii] Euxolus Mitchelli, Amarantus Mitchelli, Benth., Fl. Austr. 5, 214.
<dd>Lake Eyre.
<dt>Alternanthera nodiflora, R. Br., Prodr., 417.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Ptilotus obovatus, F.M., Fragm. 6, 228.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga; MacDonnell's and Rawlinson's Ranges.
<dt>[Ptilotus polystachyus] Ptilotus alopecuroides, F.M., Fragm. 6, 227.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
<dt>Ptilotus nobilis, F.M., Fragm. 6, 227.
<dd>Mount Olga.
<dt>Ptilotus Hoodii, F.M., Fragm. 8, 232.
<dd>Mount Olga.
<dt>Ptilotus helipteroides, F.M., Fragm. 6, 231.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga; also Barrow's Range.
<dt>[Ptilotus gaudichaudii] Ptilotus hemisteirus, F.M., Fragm. 6, 231.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
</dl>
<h5>[Nyctaginaceae] NYCTAGINEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[Boerhavia repanda] Boerhaavia repanda, Willd., Sp. Pl., 1, 22.
<dd>Lake Eyre.
<dt>[Boerhavia diffusa] Boerhaavia diffusa, L. Sp. Pl., 4.
<dd>Lake Amadeus.
</dl>
<h5>[not a family] LEGUMINOSAE:</h5>

<h5>[Fabaceae (=Papilionaceae)]</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Daviesia arthropoda, F.M., Fragm. 8, 225.
<dd>Mount Olga.
<dt>Brachysema Chambersii, F.M. in Benth. Fl. Austr. 2, 13.
<dd>Mount Olga; MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Isotropis atropurpurea, F.M., Fragm. 3, 16.
<dd>Mount Olga.
<dt>[?] Burtonia polyzyga, Benth., Fl. Austr. 2, 51.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>[?] Mirbelia oxyclada, F.M., Fragm. 4, 12.
<dd>MacDonnell's and Rawlinson's Ranges.
<dt>Gastrolobium grandiflorum, F.M., Fragm. 3, 17.
<dd>Glen of Palms.
<dt>Psoralea patens, Lindl. in Mitch. Three Exped. 2, 9.
<dd>Between Lake Eyre and Mount Olga. 
P. balsamica is known from MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>[Crotalaria cunninghamii] Crotalaria Cunninghami, R. Br., App. to Sturt's Exped., 8.
<dd>Rawlinson's Range.
<dt>Crotalaria dissitiflora, Benth. in Mitch. Trop. Austr. 386.
<dd>Lake Eyre.
<dt>[Clianthus dampieri] Clianthus Dampierii, A. Cunn. in Trans. Hort. Soc. Lond., Sec. Ser. 1, 522. <dd>Mount Whitby.
<dt>Swainsona phacoides, Benth. in Mitch. Trop. Aust., 363.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Swainsona unifoliolata, F.M., Fragm., 8, 226.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga; also on Rawlinson's Range. 
Several other species of Swainsona, but in an imperfect state, occur in the collection, also a species of Tephrosia.
<dt>Lotus Australis, Andr., Bot. Reg., t. 624.
<dd>Lake Eyre.
<dt>[?] Caulinia prorepens, F.M., Fragm. 8, 225.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
<dt>[?] Indigofera monophylla, Cand. Prodr. 2, 222.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Indigofera brevidens, Benth. in Mitch. Trop. Austr., 385.
<dd>Between Lake Eyre and the River Finke; also Glen of Palms, MacDonnell's Range, Rawlinson's Range, between Mount Olga and Barrow's Range. 
(I. villosa is also known from MacDonnell's Range.)
<dt>Erythrina Vespertilio, Benth. in Mitch. Trop. Austr., 218.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range, Mount Udor.
</dl>
<h5>[Caesalpiniaceae]</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[?] Bauhinia Leichhardtii, F.M. in Transact. Vict. Inst. 3, 50.
<dd>Occurs also in many of the central regions of the continent.
<dt>Cassia notabilis, F.M., Fragm. 3, 28.
<dd>Mount Olga, Rawlinson's Range.
<dt>Cassia venusta, F.M., Fragm. 1, 165.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Cassia pleurocarpa, F.M., Fragm. 1, 223.
<dd>Between Lake Eyre and the River Finke; also between the Alberga and Mount Olga, MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Cassia desolata, F.M. in Linnaea 25, 389.
<dd>Mount Olga, Rawlinson's Range.
<dt>Cassia artemisioides, Gaud. in Cand. Prodr. 2, 495.
<dd>From the Alberga to Mount Olga and Barrow's Range.
<dt>Petalostylis labicheoides, R. Br., App. to Sturt's Centr. Austr., 17.
<dd>Glen of Palms; between the Alberga and Mount Olga, and towards Barrow's Range.
</dl>
<h5>[Mimosaceae]</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[Acacia victoriae] Acacia Sentis, F.M. in Journ. Linn. Soc. 3, 128.
<dd>Between Mount Olga and Barrow's Range.
<dt>[Acacia maitlandii] Acacia patens, F.M. in Journ. Linn. Soc. 3, 120.
<dd>Mount Olga and MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>[?] Acacia spondylophylla, F.M., Fragm. 8, 243.
<dd>Glen of Palms; MacDonnell's and Rawlinson's Ranges.
<dt>[?] Acacia lycopodifolia, A. Cunn. in Hook. Icon., 172.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>[?] Acacia minutifolia, F.M., Fragm. 8, 243.
<dd>Mount Olga.
<dt>Acacia strongylophylla, F.M., Fragm. 8, 226.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga, Glen of Palms, MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Acacia salicina, Lindl. in Mitch. Three Exped. 2, 20.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga, MacDonnell's Range; also towards Lake Amadeus and Barrow's Range.
<dt>Acacia aneura, F.M. in Linnaea 26, 627.
<dd>Between Mount Olga and Barrow's Range.
</dl>
<p>Numerous other species of Acacia were gathered, but not found in flower or fruit, hence are not with certainty referable to the respective species of this great genus.

<h5>EUPHORBIACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[?] Adriana tomentosa, Gaud. in Ann. Sc. Nat., Prem. Ser. 6, 223.
<dd>From the Alberga to Mount Olga, MacDonnell's Range, Barrow's Range.
<dt>[Euphorbia drummondii] Euphorbia Drummondi, Boiss., Cent. Euph., 14.
<dd>Finke's River.
<dt>[Euphorbia clutioides] Euphorbia eremophila, A. Cunn. in Mitch. Austr., 348.
<dd>Lake Eyre; MacDonnell's Range.
</dl>
<h5>[Urticaceae] URTICEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Ficus platypoda, A. Cunn. in Hook. Lond. Journ. 6, 561.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga, Ayers Range, Gill's Range.
<dt>[?] Ficus orbicularis, A. Cunn. in Hook. Lond. Journ. 7, 426.
<dd>Glen of Palms.
<dt>Parietaria debilis, G. Forst., Prodr., 73.
<dd>Mount Olga.
</dl>
<h5>RHAMNACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Spyridium spathulatum, F.M. in Benth. Fl. Austr. 1, 430.
<dd>Glen of Palms.
</dl>
<h5>MYRTACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[Calytrix longiflora] Calycothrix longiflora, F.M., Fragm. 1, 12.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga; MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Thryptomene Maisonneuvii, F.M., Fragm. 4, 64.
<dd>On Mount Olga, also towards the Alberga.
<dt>[Micromyrtus flaviflora] Thryptomene flaviflora, F.M., Fragm. 8, 13.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>[?] Baeckea polystemonea, F.M., Fragm. 2, 124.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Eucalyptus pachyphylla, F.M. in Journ. Linn. Soc. 3, 98.
<dd>Glen of Palms.
</dl>
<h5>STACKHOUSIACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Macgregoria racemigera, F.M. in Caruel's Giorn., 1873, page 129.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range; between Mount Olga and Barrow's Range.
<dt>[?] Stackhousia megaloptera, FM., Fragm. 8, 35.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
</dl>
<h5>CUCURBITACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[Melothria maderaspatana] Mukia scabrella, Arn. in Hook. Journ. 3, 276.
<dd>Rawlinson's Range.
<dt>[Cucumis melo] Cucumis trigonus, Roxb., Flor. Indic. 3, 722.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
</dl>
<h5>LORANTHACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[Lysiana exocarpi] Loranthus Exocarpi, Behr in Linn. 20, 624.
<dd>Musgrave Range.
</dl>
<h5>SANTALACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Santalum lanceolatum, R. Br., Prodr., 256.
<dd>Mount Olga, Rawlinson's Range, Lake Amadeus.
<dt>Santalum acuminatum, A. de Cand. Prodr. 14, 684.
<dd>Mount Olga, MacDonnell's Range, Mount Udor, Lake Amadeus, Musgrave Range, Fort Mueller, Petermann's Range.
<dt>[Anthobolus leptomerioides] Anthobolus exocarpoides, F.M., Fragm. 9, ined.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
</dl>
<h5>PROTEACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[Hakea francisiana] Hakea multilineata, Meissn. in Lehm. Pl. Preiss. 2, 261.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
<dt>[Hakea suburea] Hakea lorea, R. Br., Prot. Nov., 25.
<dd>Glen of Palms, MacDonnell's, Petermann's, and Rawlinson's Ranges.
<dt>Grevillea stenobotrya F.M., Fragm. 9, ined.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Grevillea juncifolia, Hook. in Mitch. Trop. Austr., 341.
<dd>Glen of Palms, MacDonnell's Range, Mount Olga, and towards the Alberga.
<dt>Grevillea pterosperma, F.M. in Trans. Phil. Soc. Vict. 1, 22.
<dd>Mount Olga.
<dt>[?] Grevillea Wickhami, Meissn. in Cand. Prodr. 14, 380.
<dd>Glen of Palms, Gosse's Range, MacDonnell's Range; towards Lake Amadeus.
</dl>
<h5>[Thymelaeaceae] THYMELEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Pimelea trichostachya, Lindl. in Mitch. Trop, Austr., 355.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga, Gosse's Range.
<dt>Pimelea ammocharis, F.M. in Hook. Kew Misc. 9, 24.
<dd>Between Mount Olga and Barrow's Range.
</dl>
<h5>[Apiaceae =] UMBELLIFERAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[Trachymene glaucifolia] Didiscus glaucifolius, F.M. in Linnaea 25, 395.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
<dt>Hydrocotyle trachycarpa, F.M. in Linnaea 25, 394.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
</dl>
<h5>RUBIACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Pomax umbellata, Soland. in Gaertn. Fruct. 1, 112.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>[Canthium latifolium] Plectronia latifolia, Benth. et Hook. Gen. Pl. 2, 110.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
</dl>
<h5>[Asteraceae =] COMPOSITAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[?] Aster subspicatus, F.M., Fragm. 5, 68.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>[Aster stuartii] Aster megalodontus, F.M., Fragm. 8, ined.
<dd>Mount Olga.
<dt>[?] Aster Ferresii, F.M., Fragm. 5, 75.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Calotis lappulacea, Benth. in Hueg. Enum., 60.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
<dt>[Pluchea rubelliflora] Pluchea Eyrea, F.M., Rep. on Babb. Pl., 2.
<dd>Mount Olga, MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>[?] Minuria leptophylla, Cand. Prodr. 5, 298.
<dd>Between Lake Eyre and the River Finke, thence to Mount Olga and Lake Amadeus.
<dt>Flaveria Australasica, Hook., in Mitch. Trop. Austr., 118.
<dd>Lake Eyre.
<dt>[Gnephosis skirrophora] Gnephosis codonopappa, F.M., Fragm. 9, ined.
<dd>Beyond Lake Eyre.
<dt>Angianthus tomentosus, Wendl. Coll. 2, 31, t. 48.
<dd>Between Mount Olga and Barrow's Range.
<dt>[Calocephalus multiflorus] Calocephalus platycephalus, Benth., Fl. Austr. 3, 576.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Myriocephalus Stuartii, Benth., Fl. Austr. 3, 560.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
<dt>[Pterocaulon sphacelatum] Pterocaulon sphacelatus, Benth. et Hook., Gen. Pl. 2, 295.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga, also on Rawlinson's Range.
<dt>Ixiolaena tomentosa, Sond. et Muell. in Linnaea 25, 504.
<dd>Lake Eyre.
<dt>[?] Helichrysum Thomsoni, F.M., Fragm. 8, 45.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range, Mount Olga.
<dt>Helichrysum Ayersii, F.M., Fragm. 8, 167.
<dd>Mount Olga.
<dt>Helichrysum semifertile, F.M., Rep. on Babb. Plants, page 14.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
<dt>[Helichrysum davenportii] Helichrysum Davenporti, F.M., Fragm. 3, 32.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
<dt>Helichrysum Cassinianum, Gaud. in Freyc. Voy. Bot., 466, t. 87.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range; also between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
<dt>[?] Helichrysum lucidum, Henck. Adumb. Ann., 1806.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga, Glen of Palms, Rawlinson's Range.
<dt>Helichrysum apiculatum, Cand. Prodr. 6, 195.
<dd>Rawlinson's Range.
<dt>Helichrysum rutidolepsis, Cand. Prodr. 6, 194.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
<dt>[Helipterum stuartianum] Helipterum floribundum, Cand. Prodr. 6, 217.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
<dt>Helipterum Tietkensii, F.M., Fragm. 8, 227.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
<dt>[Helipterum albicans] Helipterum incanum, Cand. Prodr. 6, 215.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
<dt>Helipterum stipitatum, F.M. in Benth. Fl. Austr. 3, 643.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Helipterum Charsleyae, F.M., Fragm. 8, 168.
<dd>Lake Amadeus.
<dt>Gnaphalium luteo-album, L. Sp. Pl., 1196.
<dd>Mount Olga.
<dt>Gnaphalium Japonicum, Thunb., Fl. Jap., 311.
<dd>Mount Olga.
<dt>Senecio Gregorii, F.M. in Greg. Rep. On Leich. Search, page 7. 
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga, MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Senecio lautus, G. Forst., Prodr., 91.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
<dt>Senecio magnificus, F.M. in Linnaea 25, 418.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
<dt>[Erechtites runcinifolius] Erechtites picridioides, Turcz. in Bull. de Mosc., 1851, part 1, 200.
<dd>Mount Olga.
<dt>Sonchus oleraceus, Linne, Sp. Pl., 1116.
<dd>Mr. Giles records this in his journal as abundant on the banks of the Finke River, towards its source.
</dl>
<h5>CAMPANULACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[?] Wahlenbergia gracilis, A. de Cand. Monogr. des Camp., 142.
<dd>Mount Olga, Barrow's Range, Lake Amadeus.
<dt>[?] Lobelia heterophylla, Labill. Specim. 1, 52, t. 74.
<dd>Between Mount Olga and Barrow's Range.
<dt>Isotoma petraea, F.M, in Linnaea 25, 420.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga, MacDonnell's Range.
</dl>
<h5>[Goodeniaceae] GOODENOVIACEAE:</h5>

<h5>[Brunoniaceae]</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Brunonia Australis, Sm. in Transact. Linn. Soc. 10, 367, t. 28.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga, MacDonnell's Range.
</dl>
<h5>[Goodeniaceae]</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[?] Goodenia Vilmoriniae, F.M., Fragm. 3, 19, t. 16.
<dd>Mount Olga.
<dt>Goodenia heterochila, F.M., Fragm. 3, 142.
<dd>Between Mount Olga and Barrow's Range.
<dt>[?] Goodenia Mueckeana, F.M., Fragm. 8, 56.
<dd>Between Mount Udor and Gill's Range, also on or near Mount Olga.
<dt>Goodenia Ramelii, F.M., Fragm. 3, 20 t. 17.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga; also on Rawlinson's Range and towards Barrow's Range.
<dt>Leschenaultia divaricata, F.M., Fragm. 3, 33.
<dd>Lake Amadeus.
<dt>[?] Leschenaultia striata, F.M., Fragm. 8, 245.
<dd>Mount Olga.
<dt>[Catosperma goodeniaceum] Catosperma Muelleri, Benth., Fl. Austr. 4, 83.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
<dt>Scaevola collaris, F.M., Rep. on Babb. Plants, 15.
<dd>Lake Eyre.
<dt>Scaevola spinescens, R. Br., Prodr., 568.
<dd>Lake Eyre.
<dt>Scaevola depauperata, R. Br., Append. to Sturt's Centr. Austr., 20.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>[Velleia connata] Velleya connata, F.M. in Hook. Kew Misc. 8, 162.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
</dl>
<h5>[Stylidaceae] STYLIDEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[?] Stylidium floribundum, R. Br., Prodr., 569.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
</dl>
<h5>[Boraginaceae] ASPERIFOLIAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[?] Heliotropium asperrimum, R. Br., Prodr., 493.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga, MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Heliotropium undulatum, Vahl., Sym. 1, 13.
<dd>Near Lake Eyre.
<dt>[Cynoglossum australe] Cynoglossum Drummondi, Benth., Fl. Austr. 4, 409.
<dd>On Mount Olga and towards the Alberga.
<dt>[Trichodesma zeylanicum] Trichodesma Zeilanicum, R. Br., Prodr., 496.
<dd>From the Alberga to Mount Olga and MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>[?] Halgania anagalloides, Endl. in Ann. des Wien. Mus. 2, 204.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Halgania cyanea, Lindl. Bot. Reg. 25, App., 40.
<dd>MacDonnell's and Petermann's Ranges.
</dl>
<h5>[Lamiaceae =] LABIATIAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Plectranthus parviflorus, Henck. Adumb., 1806.
<dd>Between Mount Olga and Barrow's Range.
<dt>[?] Microcorys Macredieana, F.M., Fragm. 8, 231.
<dd>Rawlinson's Range.
<dt>Prostanthera striatiflora, F.M. in Linnaea 25, 425.
<dd>From the Alberga to Mount Olga; also on Gosse's Range and MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Prostanthera Wilkieana, F.M., Fragm. 8, 230.
<dd>Between Mount Olga and Barrow's Range.
<dt>Teucrium racemosum, R. Br., Prodr., 504.
<dd>Lake Eyre, Lake Amadeus, Finke River.
</dl>
<h5>VERBENACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[Newcastelia bracteosa] Newcastlia bracteosa, F.M., Fragm. 8, 49.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range; between Mount Olga and Warburton's Range; Gill's Range.
<dt>[Newcastelia cephalantha] Newcastlia cephalantha, F.M., Fragm. 9, ined.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
<dt>[Newcastelia spodiotricha] Newcastlia spodiotricha, F.M., Fragm. 3, 21, t. 21.
<dd>MacDonnell's and Rawlinson's Ranges.
<dt>[Dicrastylis doranii] Dicrastylis Dorani, F.M., Fragm. 8, 230.
<dd>Rawlinson's Range.
<dt>[Dicrastylis exsuccosa] Dicrastylis ochrotricha, F.M., Fragm. 4, 161.
<dd>Between Mount Olga and Barrow's Range.
<dt>Dicrastylis Beveridgei, F.M., Fragm. 8, 50.
<dd>Between Mount Udor and Gill's Range, also on Mount Olga.
<dt>Dicrastylis Gilesii, F.M., Fragm. 8, 229.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga; Glen of Palms.
<dt>[Dicrastylis lewellinii] Chloanthes Lewellini, F.M., Fragm. 8, 50.
<dd>Mount Olga; MacDonnell's Range.
</dl>
<h5>[Myoporaceae] MYOPORINAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[Eremophila macdonnellii] Eremophila Macdonnelli, F.M., Rep. on Babb. Plants, 18.
<dd>Between Lake Eyre and the River Finke.
<dt>Eremophila Willsii, F.M., Fragm. 3, 21, t. 20.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga; Rawlinson's Range.
<dt>[Eremophila gilesii] Eremophila Berryi, F.M., Fragm. 8, 228.
<dd>Musgrave Range.
<dt>[Eremophila goodwinii] Eremophila Goodwini, F.M., Rep. on Babb. Plants, 17.
<dd>Beyond Lake Eyre, Glen of Palms, MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Eremophila maculata, F.M. in Papers of the Roy. Soc. of Tasm. 3, 297.
<dd>Lake Eyre.
<dt>[Eremophila glabra] Eremophila Brownii, F.M. in Papers of the Roy. Soc. of Tasm. 3, 297. <dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Eremophila Sturtii, R. Br., App. to Sturt's Centr. Austr., 85.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Eremophila Gilesii, F.M., Fragm. 8, 49.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Eremophila longifolia, F.M. in Papers of the Roy. Soc. of Tasm. 3, 295.
<dd>Gosse's Range; MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>[Eremophila serrulata] Eremophila latifolia, F.M. in Linnaea 25, 428.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
<dt>Eremophila alternifolia, R. Br., Prodr., 518.
<dd>Mount Olga.
<dt>Eremophila Latrobei, F.M. in Papers of the Roy. Soc. of Tasm. 3, 294.
<dd>Mount Olga; Rawlinson's Range; MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Eremophila Elderi, F.M., Fragm. 8, 228.
<dd>Rawlinson's Range.
<dt>[?] Eremophila Hughesii, F.M., Fragm. 8, 228.
<dd>Rawlinson's Range.
<dt>[Eremophila gibsonii] Eremophila Gibsoni, F.M., Fragm. 8, 227.
<dd>Between Mount Olga and the Alberga.
<dt>Eremophila scoparia, F.M. in Papers of the Roy. Soc. of Tasm. 3, 296. 
<dd>About Lake Eyre.
<dt>[Myoporum montanum] Myoporum Cunninghami, Benth. in Hueg. Enum., 78.
<dd>Glen of Palms.
</dl>
<h5>[Oleaceae] JASMINEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Jasminum lineare, R. Br., Prodr., 521.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range; Gosse's Range.
<dt>[?] Jasminum calcareum, F.M., Fragm. 1, 212.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
</dl>
<h5>CONVOLVULACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Convolvulus erubescens, Sims, Bot. Mag., t. 1067.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Evolvulus linifolius, L. Sp. Pl., 392.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>[Bonamia rosea] Breweria rosea, F.M., Fragm. 1, 233.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga, Glen of Palms,
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
</dl>
<h5>BIGNONIACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[Pandorea doratoxylon] Tecoma Australis, R. Br., Prodr., 471.
<dd>Mount Olga, Rawlinson's Range.
</dl>
<h5>[Asclepiadaceae] ASCLEPIADEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Sarcostemma Australe, R. Br., Prodr., 463.
<dd>Rawlinson's Range.
<dt>[Leichhardtia australis] Marsdenia Leichhardtiana, F.M., Fragm. 5, 160.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
</dl>
<h5>ACANTHACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[Rostellularia pogonanthera] Justicia procumbens, L. Fl. Zeil., 19.
<dd>Mount Olga and towards Lake Eyre.
</dl>
<h5>[Gentianaceae] GENTIANEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[Centurium spicatum] Erythraea Australis, R. Br., Prodr., 451.
<dd>Between Mount Olga and Barrow's Range, MacDonnell's Range.
</dl>
<h5>[Schrophulariaceae] SCROPHULARINAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Mimulus gracilis, R. Br., Prodr., 439.
<dd>Rawlinson's Range.
<dt>Stemodia viscosa, Roxb., Pl. Coromand. 2, 33, t. 163.
<dd>Rawlinson's Range.
<dt>[?] Stemodia pedicellaris, F.M., Fragm. 8, 231.
<dd>Rawlinson's Range.
</dl>
<h5>SOLANACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Anthotroche Blackii, F.M., Fragm. 8, 232.
<dd>Between Mount Olga and Barrow's Range.
<dt>[?] Anthocercis Hopwoodii, F.M., Frag. 2, 138.
<dd>Near Mount Liebig.
<dt>Nicotiana suaveolens, Lehm., Hist. Nicot., 43.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga; Glen of Palms; Lake Amadeus.
<dt>Solanum esuriale, Lindl. in Mitch. Three Exped. 2, 43.
<dd>Lake Eyre; thence to MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Solanum ferocissimum, Lindl. in Mitch. Three Exped. 2, 58.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Solanum ellipticum, R. Br., Prodr., 446.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga; thence to Barrow's Range, MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>Solanum petrophilum, F.M. in Linnaea 25, 433.
<dd>Mount Olga.
<dt>Solanum lacunarium, F.M. in Trans. Phil. Soc. Vict. 1, 18.
<dd>Lake Eyre.
<dt>[Datura leichhardtii] Datura Leichhardti, F.M. in Trans. Phil. Soc. Vict. 1, 20.
<dd>Between the River Finke and the Glen of Palms.
</dl>
<h5>PRIMULACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Samolus repens, Pers. Synops. 1, 171.
<dd>Between Mount Olga and Barrow's Range.
</dl>
<h5>[Casuarinaceae] CASUARINEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Casuarina Decaisneana, F.M., Fragm. 1, 61.
<dd>From the Alberga and Finke River to Mount Olga; Gardiner's and MacDonnell's Ranges; Glen of Palms; also near Musgrave's Range and on Rawlinson's, Petermann's, and Barrow's Ranges; Gibson's Desert.
</dl>
<h5>[?] CYCADEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[?] Encephalartos Macdonnelli, F.M. in Vers. Akad. Wet. Amsterdam, 15, 376.
<dd>On Neale's River, found by J.M. Stuart, and probably the same species on Gill's Range.
</dl>
<h5>[Cupressaceae] CONIFERAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Callitris verrucosa, R. Br. in Memoir. du Mus. Paris 13, 74.
<dd>It is supposed that it is this species, which was seen on the River Finke, Lake Amadeus, and in the MacDonnell's, Gill's, Rampart's, Musgrave's and Gosse's Ranges, as it is the only one hitherto recorded from Central Australian collections.
</dl>
<h5>LILIACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[?] Thysanotus sparteus, R. Br., Prodr., 283.
<dd>Between Mount Olga and Barrow's Range.
<dt>[?] Anguillaria Australis, F.M. Fragm. 7, 74.
<dd>Between Lake Eyre and the River Finke. A species of Xanthorrhoea, reaching a height of twelve feet, was seen on the ranges along Rudall's Creek, but no specimen for examination was secured.
</dl>
<h5>[?] PALMAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[?] Livistona Mariae, F.M., Fragm. 9, ined.
<dd>Glen of Palms. Height up to 60 feet.
</dl>
<h5>TYPHACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Typha Muelleri, Rohrb. in Verhandl. Brandenb., 1869, page 95.
<dd>It is probably this species which is recorded in the Journal as occurring in the swamps of Rawlinson's Range.
</dl>
<h5>[Poaceae =] GRAMINEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[?] Andropogon laniger, Desf., Fl. Atlant. 2, 379.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
<dt>Eriachne scleranthoides, F.M., Fragm. 8, 233.
<dd>Mount Olga.
<dt>[?] Pappophorum commune, F.M. in Greg. Rep. on Leichh. Search, App., page 10.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
<dt>[?] Panicum Pseudo-Neurachne, F.M., Fragm. 8, 199.
<dd>Lake Amadeus.
<dt>[?] Eleusine cruciata, Lam. Encyc., t. 48, f. 2.
<dd>Lake Eyre; between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
<dt>[Aristida browniana] Aristida stipoides, R. Br., Prodr., 174.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
<dt>Bromus arenarius, Labill., Specim. 1, 23, t. 28.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
<dt>Festuca irritans, F.M., Chath. Isl. Veget., 59 (Triodia irritans, R. Br. Pr., 182).
<dd>Dispersed widely through the deserts, and called Spinifex by the explorers.
</dl>
<h5>CYPERACEAE:</h5>
<dl>
<dt>[?] Cyperus textilis, Thunb., Prodr. Pl. Cap., 18.
<dd>MacDonnell's Range.
</dl>
<h5>[Class: Pteropsida] FILICES:</h5>

<h5>[Polypodiaceae]</h5>
<dl>
<dt>Cheilanthes tenuifolia, Swartz, Syn. Fil., 129.
<dd>Rawlinson's Range; between the Alberga and Mount Olga.
<dt>Cheilanthes vellea, F.M., Fragm. 5, 123.
<dd>Between the Alberga and Mount Olga; also on MacDonnell's Range.
C. Reynoldsii, discovered by Mr. Gosse, does not occur in Mr. Giles's collection, and is probably very local.
</dl>
<p>Mr. Giles's collection contains also species of the genera Vigna, Tephrosia,
Melaleuca, Callistemon, Haloragis, Pterigeron, Brachycome, Dampiera,
Ipomoea, Morgania, Enchylaena, and Atriplex; as also additional species of
Rulingia, Abutilon, Sida, Dodonaea, Euphorbia, Spyridium, Acacia (many),
Eucalyptus, Scaevola, Goodenia, Eremophila, Heliotropium, Rhagodia,
Ptilotus, Hakea, and Panicum, but none in a state sufficiently advanced to admit of ascertaining their precise specific position.

<hr>

<h3><a name="index">INDEX.</a></h3>
<br>Acacia aneura.
<br>Alberga Creek. 
<br>Alfred and Marie Range. 
<br>Alice Falls, the. 
<br>Alone in the desert. 
<br>Aloysius, Mount. 
<br>An expanse of salt. 
<br>Angle Pole, the. 
<br>Anthony Range. 
<br>Ants and their nests. 
<br>Appatinna. 
<br>Armstrong Creek. 
<br>Arrino. 
<br>Ashburton River. 
<br>&mdash;, head waters. 
<br>Australian grass-tree. 
<br>Ayers Range. 
<br>&mdash;Rock.

<p>Bagot's Creek. 
<br>Bark Coolamins. 
<br>Barlee, Mount. 
<br>Barloweerie Peak. 
<br>Bell Rock. 
<br>Berkshire Valley.
<br>Bitter Water Creek.
<br>Black family, a.
<br>&mdash;oak.
<br>Blood's Range.
<br>Bluey's Range.
<br>Boundary Dam.
<br>Bowes Creek.
<br>Bowley, Mount.
<br>Bowman's Dam.
<br>Brachychiton.
<br>Bring Lake.
<br>Briscoe's Pass.
<br>Butterflies.
<br>Buttfield, Mount.
<br>Buzoe's Grave.

<p>Callitris.
<br>Camel Glen.
<br>Camels decamped.
<br>&mdash;poisoned.
<br>Canis familiaris.
<br>Capparis.
<br>Carnarvon, Mount.
<br>&mdash;Range.
<br>Carmichael Creek.
<br>Carmichael's Crag.
<br>Casterton Creek.
<br>Casuarina Decaisneana.
<br>Casuarinas.
<br>Chamber's Pillar.
<br>Champ de Mars.
<br>Champion Bay.
<br>Chandler's Range.
<br>Charlotte Waters Station.
<br>Cheangwa.
<br>Chimpering.
<br>Chinaman's Dam.
<br>Chirnside Creek.
<br>Christening natives.
<br>Christmas Day.
<br>Christopher Lake.
<br>Christopher's Pinnacle.
<br>Christy Bagot's Creek.
<br>Churchman, Mount.
<br>Circus, the.
<br>Clay crabhole, a.
<br>&mdash;pans.
<br>Clianthus Dampierii.
<br>Cob, the.
<br>Cockata blacks.
<br>Codonocarpus cotinifolius.
<br>Colona.
<br>Colonel's Range.
<br>Conner, Mount.
<br>Cooerminga.
<br>Coondambo clay-pans.
<br>Corkwood-tree.
<br>Corrobboree, a grand.
<br>Cowra man, a.
<br>Cudyeh.
<br>Culham.
<br>Cumming, Glen.
<br>Cups, the.
<br>Curdie, Mount.
<br>Curious mound-springs.
<br>Currajong-tree.
<br>Currie, the.
<br>Cypress pines.

<p>Davenport, Mount.
<br>Desert oak.
<br>Desolation Creek.
<br>&mdash;Glen.
<br>Destruction, Mount.
<br>Diamond bird (Amadina).
<br>Docker, The.
<br>Dog-puppies.
<br>Dongarra.
<br>Dry salt lagoons.

<p>Eagle-hawk.
<br>Earthquake, a shock.
<br>Edith, Glen.
<br>&mdash;Hull's Springs.
<br>Edith's Marble Bath.
<br>Edoldeh.
<br>Ehrenberg Ranges.
<br>Elder's Creek.
<br>Elizabeth Watercourse.
<br>Ellery's Creek.
<br>Emus.
<br>Emu Tank.
<br>Encounter Creek.
<br>Eremophila scoparia.
<br>Escape Glen.
<br>Eucalyptus.
<br>&mdash;dumosa.
<br>Euphorbiaceae.
<br>Euro Bluff.
<br>Everard Ranges.

<p>Fagan, Mount.
<br>Fairies' Glen.
<br>Ferdinand Creek.
<br>&mdash;Glen.
<br>&mdash;, Mount.
<br>Festuca irritans.
<br>Fielder, Glen.
<br>Fig-tree.
<br>Finke, Mount.
<br>&mdash;River.
<br>Finniss Springs.
<br>Fish plentiful.
<br>&mdash;ponds.
<br>Flies, myriads of.
<br>Forrest's Creek.
<br>Forrest, Mount.
<br>Fort McKellar.
<br>&mdash;Mueller.
<br>Fowler's Bay.
<br>Fraser's Wells.
<br>Fremantle, reception at.
<br>Friendly natives.
<br>Fusanus.

<p>Gardiner's Range.
<br>Gascoyne River Valley.
<br>Geelabing, Mount.
<br>George Gill's Range.
<br>Gerald, Glen.
<br>Geraldton.
<br>Gibson, Last seen of.
<br>Gibson's Desert.
<br>&mdash;Christmas pudding.
<br>Gill's Pinnacle.
<br>Glen Camel.
<br>&mdash;Cumming.
<br>&mdash;Edith. 
<br>&mdash;Ferdinand.
<br>&mdash;Fielder.
<br>&mdash;Gerald.
<br>&mdash;Helen.
<br>&mdash;Osborne.
<br>&mdash;of Palms.
<br>&mdash;Robertson.
<br>&mdash;Ross.
<br>&mdash;Thirsty.
<br>&mdash;Watson.
<br>&mdash;Wyselaski.
<br>Glentromie.
<br>Glowworms.
<br>Gordon's Springs.
<br>Gorge of Tarns.
<br>Gosse's Range.
<br>Gould, Mount.
<br>Governor, the.
<br>Grand Junction Depot.
<br>Great Gorge.
<br>&mdash;Victoria Desert.
<br>Greenough Flats.
<br>Grevillea-trees.
<br>Groener's Springs.
<br>Guildford, reception at.
<br>Gum-trees.
<br>Gyrostemon.
<br>&mdash;ramulosus.

<p>Hakea.
<br>Hale, Mount.
<br>Hamilton Creek.
<br>Hampton Plain.
<br>Hann's Creek.
<br>Harriet's Springs.
<br>Hector Pass.
<br>&mdash;Springs.
<br>Helen, Glen.
<br>Hermit Hill, the.
<br>Hogarth's Wells.
<br>Hopkin's Creek.
<br>Horses badly bogged.
<br>&mdash;fall lame.
<br>Hostility of the natives.
<br>Hughes's Creek.
<br>Hull Creek, the.
<br>Humphries, Mount.

<p>Inderu.
<br>Interview with natives.
<br>Irving Creek.
<br>Irwin House.
<br>&mdash;River.

<p>Jamieson's Range.
<br>James Winter, Mount.
<br>Jeanie, Mount.
<br>Johnstone's Range.

<p>Kangaroos and emus plentiful.
<br>Kangaroo tanks.
<br>King's Creek.
<br>Krichauff Creek.
<br>&mdash;Range.

<p>Labouchere, Mount.
<br>Lake Bring.
<br>&mdash;Amadeus.
<br>&mdash;Christopher.
<br>&mdash;Eyre.
<br>&mdash;Gairdner.
<br>&mdash;Hanson.
<br>&mdash;Hart.
<br>&mdash;Moore.
<br>&mdash;of salt.
<br>&mdash;Torrens.
<br>&mdash;Wilson.
<br>&mdash;Younghusband.
<br>Laurie's Creek.
<br>Learmonth Park.
<br>Leguminosae, the.
<br>Leipoa ocellata.
<br>Levinger, The.
<br>Lightning Rock.
<br>Livingstone Pass.
<br>Louisa's Creek.
<br>Lowan or native pheasants.
<br>Lowans' nests.
<br>Luehman's Springs.
<br>Lunar rainbow, a.
<br>Lyons River.

<p>MacBain's Springs.
<br>Mann Range.
<br>Margaret, Mount.
<br>Maria, palm.
<br>Marie, Mount.
<br>McCulloch, Mount.
<br>McDonnell Range.
<br>McMinn's Creek.
<br>McNicol's Range.
<br>Melaleuca.
<br>&mdash;tree.
<br>Middleton's Pass.
<br>Miller, Mount.
<br>Mobing.
<br>Moffat's Creek.
<br>Moloch horridus.
<br>Moodilah.
<br>Mosquitoes.
<br>Mount Aloysius.
<br>&mdash;Ayers.
<br>&mdash;Barlee.
<br>&mdash;Bowley.
<br>&mdash;Buttfield.
<br>&mdash;Camnarvon.
<br>&mdash;Churchman.
<br>&mdash;Conner.
<br>&mdash;Curdie.
<br>&mdash;Davenport.
<br>&mdash;Destruction.
<br>&mdash;Fagan.
<br>&mdash;Ferdinand.
<br>&mdash;Finke.
<br>&mdash;Forrest.
<br>&mdash;Geelabing.
<br>&mdash;Gould.
<br>&mdash;Gould Creek.
<br>&mdash;Hale.
<br>&mdash;Humphries.
<br>&mdash;James Winter.
<br>&mdash;Jeanie.
<br>&mdash;Labouchere.
<br>&mdash;Margaret.
<br>&mdash;Marie.
<br>&mdash;McCulloch.
<br>&mdash;Miller.
<br>&mdash;Murchison.
<br>&mdash;Musgrave.
<br>&mdash;Oberon.
<br>&mdash;Officer.
<br>&mdash;O'Halloran.
<br>&mdash;Olga.
<br>&mdash;Ormerod.
<br>&mdash;Peculiar.
<br>&mdash;Phillips.
<br>&mdash;Quin.
<br>&mdash;Robert.
<br>&mdash;Robinson.
<br>&mdash;Russell.
<br>&mdash;Sargood.
<br>&mdash;Scott.
<br>&mdash;Skene.
<br>&mdash;Solitary.
<br>&mdash;Squires.
<br>&mdash;Udor.
<br>Mowling.
<br>Mulga apple.
<br>&mdash;tree, its habits and value.
<br>&mdash;wood as a poison.
<br>Murchison, Mount.
<br>&mdash;River.
<br>Musgrave, Mount.
<br>&mdash;Range.
<br>Mus conditor.
<br>Myal.

<p>Native art.
<br>Native attack at Farthest East.
<br>&mdash;&mdash;at Fort McKellar.
<br>&mdash;&mdash;at Fort Mueller.
<br>&mdash;&mdash;and rout at Sladen Water.
<br>&mdash;&mdash;at Ularring.
<br>&mdash;beauty.
<br>&mdash;caves.
<br>&mdash;dam, a.
<br>&mdash;figs.
<br>&mdash;fires.
<br>&mdash;gunyahs.
<br>&mdash;huts; ancient and modern.
<br>&mdash;interview.
<br>&mdash;mode of wearing the hair.
<br>&mdash;orange-tree.
<br>&mdash;peach.
<br>&mdash;pheasant's nest.
<br>&mdash;poplar-trees.
<br>&mdash;sleeping places.
<br>&mdash;swords.
<br>&mdash;thieves.
<br>&mdash;well.
<br>&mdash;wurleys.
<br>Natives troublesome.
<br>Natta.
<br>Neale's River.
<br>Newcastle, reception at.
<br>New Norcia.
<br>Nicholls's Fish Ponds.

<p>Oberon, Mount.
<br>Officer, the.
<br>&mdash;, Mount.
<br>Olga, Mount.
<br>Ooldabinna.
<br>Ophthalmia Range.
<br>Opossums.
<br>Ormerod, Mount.
<br>Osborne, Glen.

<p>Palmer Creek.
<br>Palms, Glen of.
<br>Paring.
<br>Pass of the Abencerrages.
<br>Peake Creek.
<br>&mdash;Station.
<br>Peculiar, Mount.
<br>Penny's Creek.
<br>Perth, reception at.
<br>Pernatty Creek.
<br>Petermann's Creek.
<br>&mdash;Range.
<br>Phillips Creek.
<br>&mdash;, Mount.
<br>Pia Spring.
<br>Pidinga.
<br>Pigeon Rocks.
<br>Poisoned camels.
<br>Poison plant.
<br>Pondoothy Hill.
<br>Poothraba Hill.
<br>Port Augusta.
<br>Purple vetch.
<br>Pylebung.

<p>Quandong-trees.
<br>Queen Victoria's Spring.
<br>Quin, Mount.

<p>Range, Petermann's.
<br>Rawlinson Range.
<br>Rebecca, The.
<br>Red gum, the.
<br>&mdash;hornets.
<br>&mdash;Ridge Camp.
<br>Reid Creek.
<br>Ross, Glen.
<br>River Irwin.
<br>&mdash;Finke, general remarks.
<br>&mdash;Murchison.
<br>&mdash;Sandford.
<br>Robert, Mount.
<br>Robertson, Glen.
<br>Robinson, Mount.
<br>Rock wallaby.
<br>Roger's Pass.
<br>Roman numerals.
<br>Ross's Water-hole.
<br>Rudall's Creek.
<br>Ruined Rampart, the.
<br>Russell, Mount.

<p>St. Cecilia, watercourse.
<br>Saleh's Fish Ponds.
<br>Salt bog.
<br>&mdash;bushes.
<br>&mdash;lagoons.
<br>&mdash;lake, a.
<br>Sandal-wood.
<br>Sandflies.
<br>Sandford River.
<br>Sargood, Mount.
<br>Schwerin Mural Crescent.
<br>Scorpion, a.
<br>Scott, Mount.
<br>Scrub pheasant.
<br>&mdash;wallaby.
<br>Sentinel, the.
<br>Seymour's Range.
<br>Shaw Creek.
<br>Shoeing Camp.
<br>Skene, Mount.
<br>Sladen Water.
<br>Snakes.
<br>Sonchus oleraceus.
<br>Solitary, Mount.
<br>Sow thistle.
<br>Spear-heads of mulga wood.
<br>Squires, Mount.
<br>Stemodia viscosa, the.
<br>Stevenson's Creek.
<br>Stinking pit, the.
<br>Stokes's Creek.
<br>Storm, effect of.
<br>Surprise the natives.

<p>Taloreh.
<br>Tarn of Auber.
<br>The Circus.
<br>&mdash;Cob.
<br>&mdash;Cups Hill.
<br>&mdash;Officer.
<br>&mdash;Sentinel.
<br>Thirsty, Glen.
<br>Thunderstorm.
<br>Tietkens's Birthday Creek.
<br>&mdash;Tank.
<br>Tipperary.
<br>Titania's Spring.
<br>Tommy's Flat.
<br>Tootra.
<br>Trickett's Creek.
<br>Triodia or Festuca irritans.
<br>Troglodytes' Cave.
<br>Turtle Back Rocks.
<br>Tyndall's Springs.

<p>Udor, Mount.
<br>Ularring.

<p>Vale of Tempe.
<br>Verney's Wells.
<br>Victoria plains.
<br>Vladimar Pass.

<p>Walebing.
<br>Wallaby traps.
<br>Warlike Natives.
<br>Water scarce.
<br>Watson, Glen.
<br>Weld Pass.
<br>Whitegin.
<br>Wild ducks.
<br>&mdash;turkey bustards.
<br>Winter Water.
<br>Winter's Glen.
<br>Wommerah, the.
<br>Worrill's Pass.
<br>Wynbring.
<br>&mdash;Rock.
<br>Wyselaski's Glen.

<p>Xanthorrhoea.
<p>Yanderby.
<br>York, entertained at.
<br>Youldeh.
<br>Yuin.

<p>Zoe's Glen.

<p class="external">End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Australia Twice Traversed by Ernest Giles.


<pre>
*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUSTRALIA TWICE TRAVERSED ***

This file should be named strtt10.txt or strtt10.zip
Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, strtt11.txt
VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, strtt10a.txt

Produced by Sue Asscher asschers@bigpond.com

Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US
unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we usually do not
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance
of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing.
Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections,
even years after the official publication date.

Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til
midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement.
The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at
Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month.  A
preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment
and editing by those who wish to do so.

Most people start at our Web sites at:
http://gutenberg.net or
http://promo.net/pg

These Web sites include award-winning information about Project
Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new
eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!).


Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement
can get to them as follows, and just download by date.  This is
also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the
indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an
announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter.

http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03 or
ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03

Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90

Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want,
as it appears in our Newsletters.


Information about Project Gutenberg (one page)

We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work.  The
time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours
to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright
searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc.   Our
projected audience is one hundred million readers.  If the value
per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2
million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text
files per month:  1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+
We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002
If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total
will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end.

The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks!
This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers,
which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users.

Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated):

eBooks Year Month

    1  1971 July
   10  1991 January
  100  1994 January
 1000  1997 August
 1500  1998 October
 2000  1999 December
 2500  2000 December
 3000  2001 November
 4000  2001 October/November
 6000  2002 December*
 9000  2003 November*
10000  2004 January*


The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created
to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium.

We need your donations more than ever!

As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people
and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut,
Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois,
Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts,
Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New
Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio,
Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South
Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West
Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming.

We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones
that have responded.

As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list
will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states.
Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state.

In answer to various questions we have received on this:

We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally
request donations in all 50 states.  If your state is not listed and
you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have,
just ask.

While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are
not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting
donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to
donate.

International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about
how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made
deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are
ways.

Donations by check or money order may be sent to:

Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
PMB 113
1739 University Ave.
Oxford, MS 38655-4109

Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment
method other than by check or money order.

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by
the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN
[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154.  Donations are
tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law.  As fund-raising
requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be
made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states.

We need your donations more than ever!

You can get up to date donation information online at:

http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html


***

If you can't reach Project Gutenberg,
you can always email directly to:

Michael S. Hart &lt;hart@pobox.com&gt;

Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message.

We would prefer to send you information by email.


**The Legal Small Print**


(Three Pages)

***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START***
Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers.
They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with
your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from
someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement
disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how
you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to.

*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK
By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept
this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive
a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by
sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person
you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical
medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request.

ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS
This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks,
is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart
through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project").
Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright
on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and
distribute it in the United States without permission and
without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth
below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook
under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark.

Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market
any commercial products without permission.

To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable
efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain
works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any
medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other
things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged
disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer
codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.

LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES
But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below,
[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may
receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims
all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including
legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR
UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT,
INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE
OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE
POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES.

If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of
receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any)
you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that
time to the person you received it from. If you received it
on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and
such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement
copy. If you received it electronically, such person may
choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to
receive it electronically.

THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS
TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A
PARTICULAR PURPOSE.

Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or
the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the
above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you
may have other legal rights.

INDEMNITY
You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation,
and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated
with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm
texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including
legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the
following that you do or cause:  [1] distribution of this eBook,
[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook,
or [3] any Defect.

DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm"
You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by
disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this
"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg,
or:

[1]  Only give exact copies of it.  Among other things, this
     requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the
     eBook or this "small print!" statement.  You may however,
     if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable
     binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form,
     including any form resulting from conversion by word
     processing or hypertext software, but only so long as
     *EITHER*:

     [*]  The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and
          does *not* contain characters other than those
          intended by the author of the work, although tilde
          (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may
          be used to convey punctuation intended by the
          author, and additional characters may be used to
          indicate hypertext links; OR

     [*]  The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at
          no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent
          form by the program that displays the eBook (as is
          the case, for instance, with most word processors);
          OR

     [*]  You provide, or agree to also provide on request at
          no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the
          eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC
          or other equivalent proprietary form).

[2]  Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this
     "Small Print!" statement.

[3]  Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the
     gross profits you derive calculated using the method you
     already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  If you
     don't derive profits, no royalty is due.  Royalties are
     payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation"
     the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were
     legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent
     periodic) tax return.  Please contact us beforehand to
     let us know your plans and to work out the details.

WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO?
Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of
public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed
in machine readable form.

The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time,
public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses.
Money should be paid to the:
"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."

If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or
software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at:
hart@pobox.com

[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only
when distributed free of all fees.  Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by
Michael S. Hart.  Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be
used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be
they hardware or software or any other related product without
express permission.]

*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END*
</pre>

</body>
</html>
generated by cgit v1.2.3 (git 2.25.1) at 2026-02-22 17:54:35 +0000