Chapter VIII: Part 8

Friday, 8th June, Short Range. Started at 8 o'clock on the same course, 315 degrees, to some very distant rising grounds. Short range seems to run nearly parallel to our course, as also does another distant range to the north, which I have named Sturt Range, after Captain Sturt. The table land continued about two miles, and then there was a gradual descent to the plains, and we entered a thick scrub with spinifex and gums. At eighteen miles came upon a beautiful plain of grass, having large gum-trees, and a new description of tree, the foliage of which is a dark-green and rather round, and the bark rough and of a dark colour. Here also was the cork-tree, and numerous other shrubs. This grassy plain continued for thirty-one miles, until we camped, but the last part is not so good. When I struck this plain, I was in great hopes of finding a large creek of water, but have been disappointed; we have not crossed a single water-course in thirty-one miles. Camped at sundown. No water. Wind south-east.

Saturday, 9th June, Grassy Plain. There is some rising ground a few miles further on, to which I shall go in search of a creek; I might be able to see something from it. If I do not find water I shall have to retreat to Bishop Creek, as the horses have now been two nights without water. Started at 7 o'clock, same course, 315 degrees, through scrub and a light sandy soil. At four miles got to the rise, which is a scrubby sand-hill. From this I can see nothing, the scrub being so thick; it is of a nasty, tough, wiry description, and has torn our hands and saddle-bags to pieces. I got up a tree to look over the top of this scrub, which is about twelve feet high, and I could see our course for a long distance; it appears to be the same terrible scrub, with no sign of any creeks. It is very vexing to get thus far, and have to turn back, when perhaps another day's journey would bring me to a better country. I shall now try a south course, and cut the grassy plains to the westward, in the hope of finding water; if so, I shall be able to make two days' journey to the north-west. Started on a south course for fourteen miles, through scrub and small grassy plains alternately, but we could find neither creek nor water. I now regret that I attempted the south course, which makes the distance from the water so much greater. Wind still south-east; heavy clouds coming from the north-west, I trust it will rain before morning.

Sunday, 10th June, Grassy Plains. Started at sunrise, and at two miles again got into the scrub. Three of the horses we can scarcely get along; they are very much done up. At 11 o'clock, one horse gave in altogether. We cannot get him up; we have tried everything in our power to do something for him. The other horses have been carrying his load, and he has had nothing to carry for this last hour and a half; all our efforts are in vain, and I am obliged, although with great reluctance, to leave him to his fate. Had this occurred nearer the water, I should have put an end to his existence and taken part of him to eat, for we are now very short of provisions, and the other horses have quite enough to carry without sharing his load; I wish I had left him sooner. At 12 o'clock, I find I shall lose some more of them, if they do not get water to-night, and it will be to-morrow before I can reach Bishop Creek. I shall now go to Short range and try to find some. The little bay mare Polly has become nearly mad, running about among the other horses, and kicking them as she passes; even the men do not escape from her heels. At five miles made the range. There are no large creeks coming from this side--nothing but small ones which empty themselves into the plain; sand up to the foot of the hills. Before we reach the range another of the horses is done up; he has only been carrying about 30 pounds in consequence of his back having been bad for the last three weeks. We lightened all the weak horses two days since. We shall now try if he will go without anything on his back. We are now amongst the granite ridges, and hope we shall find water on this side. The horse has given in before we can get to the other side. We must leave him for the sake of the others. Too much time has already been lost in endeavouring to get them on. Reached the other side and searched the different creeks, but cannot find any water. Crossed a spur of the range running south, and can see a nice-looking creek with gum-trees. Our hopes and spirits are again revived; the sight of it has even invigorated the horses, and they are hurrying on towards it. Traversed it down, but, to our great disappointment, find that it loses itself in a grassy plain. It is now dark, so I must remain here for the night. The sky is quite overcast, and I trust that Providence will send us rain before morning. An accident has happened to the water we were carrying; it was all lost yesterday. If it clears during the night, so that I can see the stars to guide me, I shall move on.

Monday, 11th June, Short Range. During the night there were a few drops of rain, which again raised our hopes, and about 4 o'clock it looked as if we were to have a deluge, but, alas! it only rained for about two minutes, and as much fell as would wet a pocket-handkerchief. Saddled and started through the range, my poor little mare looking very bad this morning; I have taken everything off her, so that she may hold out until we get to water, and I have been obliged to leave as many things at this camp as I could possibly do without. The mare lies down every few yards, I am therefore compelled to leave her for the sake of the others. From the number of birds about here, I think there must be water near; I hope she may find it, although I am afraid she is too far gone even to try it. At 1 o'clock, at the foot of Mount Woodcock, the horses' spirits revived at sight of their old track. I shall now be able to get all the rest of them safe to water, although there is one still doubtful. My own black mare shows a few symptoms of madness, but still keeps on, and does her work well. About an hour before sundown arrived at the water without any more losses, for which I sincerely thank the Almighty. We have had a terrible job to keep the horses from drinking too much water, but, as they have now eaten a few mouthfuls of grass, I have allowed them to drink as much as they thought proper. The natives have been here since we left.

Tuesday, 12th June, Bishop Creek. Resting: the horses look very bad; they remained by the water all night.

Wednesday, 13th June, Bishop Creek. The horses still look very bad this morning; they have again stayed by the water nearly all night; they had been one hundred and one hours without a drop, and have accomplished a journey of one hundred and twelve miles; they will require a week to recover; one of them is very lame from a kick the little mare gave him in her madness. Thus ends my last attempt, at present, to make the Victoria River; three times have I tried it, and have been forced to retreat. About 11 o'clock I heard the voice of a native; looked round and could see two in the scrub, about a quarter of a mile distant. I beckoned to them to approach, but they kept making signs which I could not understand. I then moved towards them, but the moment they saw me move, they ran off immediately. About a quarter of an hour afterwards they again made their appearance on the top of the quartz reef, opposite our camp, and two others showed themselves in about the same place as the two first did. Thinking this was the only water, I made signs to the two on the reef to go to the water; but they still continued talking and making signs which I could not understand; it seemed as if they wished us to go away, which I was determined not to do. They then made a number of furious frantic gestures, shaking their spears, and twirling them round their heads, etc. etc., I suppose bidding us defiance. I should think the youngest was about twenty-five years of age. He placed a very long spear into the instrument they throw them with, and, after a few more gestures, descended from the reef, and gradually came a little nearer. I made signs of encouragement for him to come on, at the same time moving towards him. At last we arrived on the banks of the creek, he on one side, and I on the other. He had a long spear, a womera, and two instruments like the boomerang, but more the shape of a scimitar, with a very sharp edge, having a thick place at the end, roughly carved, for the hand. The gestures he was making were now signs of hostility, and he came fully prepared for war. I then broke a branch of green leaves from a bush, and held it up towards him, inviting him to come across to me. As he did not seem to fancy that, I crossed to where he was, and got within two yards of him. He thought I was quite near enough, and would not have me any nearer, for he kept moving back as I approached. I wished to get close up to him, but he would not have it; we then stood still, and I tried to make him understand, by signs, that all we wanted was water for two or three days. At last he seemed to understand, nodded his head, pointed to the water, then to our camp, and held up his five fingers. I then endeavoured to learn from him if there was water to the north or north-east, but I could make nothing of him. He viewed me very steadily for a long time, began talking, and seeing that I did not understand him, he made the sign that natives generally do of wanting something to eat, and pointed towards me. Whether he meant to ask if I was hungry, or to suggest that I should make a very good supper for him, I do not know, but I bowed my head as if I understood him perfectly. We then separated, I keeping a careful watch upon him all the time I was crossing the creek. Before I left him the other one joined. The first was a tall, powerful, well-made fellow, upwards of six feet; his hair was very long, and he had a red-coloured net tied round his head, with the ends of his hair lying on his shoulders. I observed nothing else that was peculiar about them. They had neither skins nor anything round their bodies, but were quite naked. They then took their departure. A short time afterwards I saw them joined by five others. We have seen nothing more of them to-day, and I hope they will not trouble us any more, but let me get my horses rested in peace. Wind south, all the clouds gone; nights and mornings very cold. Occupied during the day in shoeing horses, and repairing and making saddle-bags.

Thursday, 14th June, Bishop Creek. On examining the water holes, I find there are small crab fish in them, which leads me to think this water is permanent. This morning we again hear the voices of the natives up the creek to the west. There must be plenty more water up there, as most of the birds go in that direction to drink, passing by this water. The natives have not come near us to-day, but we have seen the smoke of their fires. Shoeing horses, repairing and making saddle-bags, which were torn all to pieces by the scrub.

Friday, 15th June, Bishop Creek. Resting horses, and getting our equipment in order for another trial, as I think the horses will be ready to start on Monday morning. No more of the natives but their smoke is still visible. Wind south; day hot, night cool.

Saturday, 16th June, Bishop Creek. The horses are still drinking an immense quantity of water; they are at it five and six times a day; they must have suffered dreadfully. The grass here is as dry as if it were the middle of summer, instead of winter. I hope we may soon have rain, which would be a great blessing to me.

Sunday, 17th June, Bishop Creek. The horses still pay frequent visits to the water. We have found more about a mile up the creek, and there seems to be plenty further up in the hills; I cannot examine it just now, in consequence of the natives being about. It would not do for me to leave, as the party is so small, nor do I like sending one of them, for he might be taken by surprise and cut off, which would ruin me altogether, being able to do scarcely anything myself. Although I am much better, I am still very weak; the pains in my limbs are not so constant. I attribute the relief to eating a number of native cucumbers which are in quantities on this creek. The horse that was kicked by the mare is still very lame. Wind south-east.

Monday, 18th June, Bishop Creek. Started at 9.30 on a bearing of 18 degrees, through a plain of alternate grass, scrub, and spinifex, and at five miles passed a number of isolated hills close together, composed of large masses of ironstone, quartz, and a hard brown rock, very irregular, and all sorts of shapes; the stones seem as if they had undergone the action of fire. We then proceeded through some very bad spinifex, dark-coloured, long, hard and dry; we could scarcely get the horses to face it. We then came upon a grassy plain, and at ten miles struck a gum creek coming from the west of north-west, and running (at this place) east-north-east; followed it and found an abundance of water in long deep holes, with shells of the crab fish lying on the banks. The water is upwards of a mile in length; the creek then spreads out over a grassy plain with scrub and gum-trees, and is joined by the other creeks coming from the McDouall range. I thought it advisable to camp here for the rest of the day, as a further journey would be a risk for the horse that is lame, and I do not wish to lose any more; as it is, I am afraid he will not be able to cross Short range, which I hope to do in a few hours. Natives about. Splendid grass on this plain, and on the banks of the creek, which I have named Phillips Creek, after John Phillips, Esquire, J.P., of Kanyaka. Wind variable.

Tuesday, 19th June, Phillips Creek. Started at 8 o'clock on the same bearing, 18 degrees. We first passed through a well-grassed plain with a little scrub, then again through hard spinifex to the range. At one mile crossed another gum creek with water in it, coming from Short range. At four miles reached the top of the spur of the range; and at seven miles, the top of the range. About two miles to the east, the range seems to terminate in a gum plain, a spur from the McDouall range running on the other side of the plain, and crossing our line a few miles further on. Short range here is composed of quartz, ironstone, and red granite, with a little limestone. Descended into the plain, and at ten miles came upon another gum creek, spreading over a grassy plain, but could find no water. At thirteen miles came upon some dry swamps with a number of birds about them. At fourteen miles reached the top of the next range. From this the appearance of the country, on this course, is evidently very scrubby. On a bearing of 55 degrees, in the far distance, is the termination of another range. I do not like facing the scrub again so soon after my late loss, and with my horses not yet recovered. I shall return to the swamps and look for water. If I find any, I shall start in the morning for the end of the distant range. My lame horse is unable to do more to-day; crossing the range has been very hard upon him. Returned to the swamps and found a fine pond of water. Camped. The water is derived from the creek that we passed in the middle of the day. I have named these ponds after Kekwick, in token of the zeal and activity he has displayed during the expedition.

Wednesday, 20th June, Kekwick Ponds. Saddled at sunrise, and proceeded to the top of the low range, from which I turned back yesterday, and changed my course to 56 degrees to the northernmost point of the distant hills, through a plain of alternate grass and spinifex. At 3 o'clock struck the William Creek again, with splendid grass on its banks. It ran nearly our course for about three miles, and then turned to the east. We then entered the same sort of scrub as that in which I lost my horses; this continued until we reached the hills, which we did in about eighteen miles. From this we can see a range to the south-south-east. About ten miles off there is a large lake, with red sand hills on the east side. I cannot see the extent of it, the hills that I am now on being so low; they are composed of granite, and run north and south. To the north and north-east is another lake, about the same distance, to which I shall go on a course of 32 degrees 30 minutes. On the north side of this one there are also sand hills with scrub. For two miles after leaving the hills we passed through a soft, sandy, scrubby country and spinifex. It then became harder, with grass and spinifex alternately. At four miles from the hills we camped without water. My horses have not recovered from their last trial, and seem to be very tired to-night, although to-day's journey was not a long one, but it has been very hot, and the scrub thick and difficult to get through.

Thursday, 21st June, Scrub. The horses having gone back on the track, we did not get a start until 8.30--course, 32 degrees 30 minutes to a high hill on the other side of the lake, passing through a thick scrub of cork-tree and gums, with spinifex and grass. At seven miles came upon what I thought was the lake, but it turns out to be a large plain of rich alluvial soil covered with dry grass, which gave it the appearance of a lake. It was three miles across to the top of the hill; no water-course through, nor any water to be seen. The hills on the north side are composed of ironstone and granite, and, from the distance, looked very much like sand hills. From the top of the hill I can see the plain extending a little to the west of north, but I cannot see far for the mirage. To the north-north-east is another plain of the same description, but much smaller, about a mile and a half broad, and nearly circular. To the north-east is another very extensive one; its dimensions I cannot see. I seem to have got into the land of grassy plains and low stony hills. I wish my horses had had water last night or yesterday. They seem to be very much in want of it. I must devote the rest of this day to a search for it. I shall now direct my course for the south part of the plain that I have just crossed; it seems to be the lowest part, and the flight of the birds is directed that way. Searched all round, but can find no water; so I must return to Kekwick Ponds. The day is extremely hot, and my horses cannot stand two more nights without water. Would that they had more endurance! It is dreadful to have to turn back almost at the threshold of success. I cannot be far from the dip of the country to the Gulf. Returned by another course to where I camped last night, but still no water. I would fain try the plain to the south, but I dare not risk the loss of more horses. Proceeded to the low range that I crossed yesterday; examined round it, but cannot find any water. Camped. Two of the horses very much done up. I must go back through that nasty scrub again.

Friday, 22nd June, Under the West Low Range. Started at sunrise for the ponds, and at 1.30 arrived; the horses being very much exhausted. I am glad I did not remain another night without water; three of them are completely done up, and it has been with difficulty that we have got them here. Wind south-west.

Saturday, 23rd June, Kekwick Ponds. Resting horses. About 1 o'clock we were visited by two natives, who presented us with four opossums and a number of small birds and parrots. They were much frightened at first, but after a short time became very bold, and, coming to our camp, wanted to steal everything they could lay their fingers on. I caught one concealing the rasp that is used in shoeing the horses under the netting he had round his waist, and was obliged to take it from him by force. The canteens they seemed determined to have, and it was with difficulty we could get them from them. They wished to pry into everything, until I lost all patience and ordered them off. In about half an hour two other young men approached the camp. Thinking they might be in want of water, and afraid to come to it on account of the horses, I sent Ben with a tin dishful, which they drank. They were very young men, and too much frightened to come any nearer. About an hour before sundown, one of the first that had come, returned, bringing with him three others, two of whom were young, tall, powerful, well made, and good-looking, and as fine specimens of the native as I have yet seen. On their heads they had a neatly-fitting hat or helmet close to the brow, and rising straight up to a rounded peak, three or four inches above the head and gradually becoming narrower towards the back part. The outside was net-work; the inside was composed of feathers very tightly bound together with cord until it was as hard as a piece of wood; it may be used as a protection from the sun, or as armour for the battle-field. One of them had a great many scars upon him, and seemed to be a leading man. Only two had helmets on, the others had pieces of netting bound round their foreheads. One was an old man, and seemed to be the father of these two fine young men. He was very talkative, but I could make nothing of him. I have endeavoured, by signs, to get information from him as to where the next water is, but we cannot understand each other. After some time, and having conferred with his two sons, he turned round, and surprised me by giving me one of the Masonic signs. I looked at him steadily; he repeated it, and so did his two sons. I then returned it, which seemed to please them much, the old man patting me on the shoulder and stroking down my beard. They then took their departure, making friendly signs until they were out of sight. We enjoyed a good supper from the opossums, which we have not had for many a day. The men are complaining of weakness from the want of sufficient nourishment. I find the quantity of rations is not enough; five pounds of flour per week is too little for many weeks together. It may do very well for a month or so, but when it comes to the length of time we have been out, we all feel it very much; and the dried meat that I brought with me being very young, it has not half the strength in it that old meat has.

Sunday, 24th June, Kekwick Ponds. Our black friends have not made their appearance to-day.

Monday, 25th June, Kekwick Ponds. Started again on a bearing of 345 degrees to some very distant hills, to see if I can get into the face of the country to the Gulf of Carpentaria. At two miles crossed a large gum creek (with long beds of concrete ironstone), which I have named Hayward Creek, after Frederick Hayward, Esquire. The banks are beautifully grassed, and extend for four miles on the north side. At fourteen miles struck a gum creek with large sheets of water in which were plenty of ducks, native companions, black shags, cranes, and other birds. Camped here for the remainder of the day. The course of the creek at this point is to the north of east, and coming from the north of west, apparently from the range, which is distant about ten miles. It very much resembles Chambers Creek. The ponds (in which we found some small fish) are about eighty yards broad, and about three quarters of a mile long, having large masses of concrete ironstone at both ends, separating the one pond from the other; large gum-trees being in the ponds. Wind north-west. Very hot.

Tuesday, 26th June, Large Gum Creek, with Sheets of Water. I have resolved to follow this creek down to-day, and, if the water continues, to follow it out. Started on a course 77 degrees, and at six miles crossed the creek, which is running a little more to the north. There are long sheets of water all the way down to this, the banks in some places being steep, with the lower part formed of concrete, and the upper red sandy soil, which gives me a bad opinion of it for water, if the concrete ceases. Here we saw some blacks; they would not come near us, but walked off as fast as they could. From the top of the rise we saw where they were camped, on the banks of a large sheet of water; we passed on without taking any more notice of them, and at nine miles, not seeing any appearance of the creek, I changed my course to 25 degrees. At three quarters of a mile cut it again, but without water in it; it is much narrower and deeper, having sandy banks and bed. Changed again to 77 degrees, the creek frequently crossing our course, and at fifteen miles saw there was no hope of obtaining water. The country is becoming more sandy, and is thickly covered with spinifex and scrub. We crossed down to the banks of the creek; no rising ground visible. I must keep closer to the hills, and, as the day has been very hot, I shall return and camp at nine miles from our last camp, if there is water; if not, I shall have to camp a short way above where we saw the natives this morning. I do not wish to get too near them, or to annoy them in any way. We could find no water below where they were camped; I therefore pushed on to get above them before dark. At half-past one o'clock, about three miles from the creek, we saw where they had been examining our tracks, and as we approached the creek their tracks became very numerous on ours. When we arrived on the top of the rise, where we had previously seen their camp and fires, we could now see nothing of them, neither smoke, fires, nor anything else: it was then nearly dark. I concluded they had left in consequence of having seen us pass in the morning, as natives in general do. I was moving on to the place where we crossed the creek in the morning, when suddenly from behind some scrub which we had just entered, up started three tall powerful fellows fully armed, having a number of boomerangs, waddies, and spears. Their distance from us was about two hundred yards. It being so nearly dark, and the scrub we were then in placing us at a disadvantage, I wished to pass without taking any notice of them, but such was not their intention, for they continued to approach us, calling out and making all sorts of gestures apparently of defiance. I then faced them, making every sign of friendship I could think of. They seemed to be in a great fury, moving their boomerangs above their head, bawling at the top of their voices, and performing some sort of a dance. They were now joined by more of their tribe, so that in a few minutes their numbers had increased to upwards of thirty; every bush seemed to produce a man. Putting the horses on towards the creek, and placing ourselves between them and the natives, I told my men to get their guns ready, for I could see they were determined upon mischief. They paid no regard to all the signs of friendship I kept constantly making, but were still gradually approaching nearer and nearer to us. I felt very unwilling to fire upon them, and still continued making signs of peace and friendship, but all to no purpose. Their leader, an old man, who was in advance, made signs with his boomerang, which we took as a signal for us to be off. They were, however, intended as tokens of defiance, for I had no sooner turned my horse's head to comply with what I thought were their wishes, than we received a shower of boomerangs, accompanied by a fearful yell; they then set fire to the grass, and commenced jumping, dancing, yelling, and throwing their arms into all sorts of postures, like so many fiends. In addition to the thirty that already confronted us, I could now see many others getting up from behind the bushes. Still I felt unwilling to fire upon them, and tried again to make them understand that we wished to do them no harm. Having now approached within about forty yards of us, they made another charge, and threw their boomerangs, which came whistling and whizzing past our ears, one of them striking my horse. I then gave orders to fire, which stayed their mad career for a little. Our pack-horses, which were on before us, took fright when they heard the firing and fearful yelling, and made off for the creek. Seeing some of the blacks running from bush to bush, with the intention of cutting us off from our horses, while those in front were still yelling, throwing their boomerangs, and coming nearer to us, we gave them another reception, and I sent Ben after the horses to drive them on to a more favourable place, while Kekwick and I remained to cover our rear. We soon got in advance of those who were endeavouring to cut us off, but they still kept following, though beyond the reach of our guns, the fearful yelling still continuing from more numerous voices, and fires springing up in every direction. It being now quite dark, with the country scrubby, and our enemies bold and daring, we could be easily surrounded and destroyed by such determined fellows as they have shown themselves to be. Seeing there is no hope with such fearful odds (ten to one at least) against us, and knowing all the disadvantages under which we labour, I very unwillingly make up my mind to push on to our last night's camp. We have done so, and now I have had a little time to consider the matter over I do not think it prudent to remain here to-night; I shall therefore continue on until I reach the open grassy plain or gum creek. They are still following us up; I only wish that I had four more men, for my party is so small that we can only fall back and act on the defensive. If I were to stand and fight them (which I wish I could) our horses must remain unprotected, and we, in all probability, should be cut off from them. Our enemies seem to be aiming at that, and to prevent our advance up the creek; by this time they have found out their mistake, as we did not go a step out of our course for them. Arrived at Hayward Creek at 11 o'clock at night.

Wednesday, 27th June, Hayward Creek. This morning we see signal fires all around us. It was my intention last night to have gone this morning to Kekwick Ponds to water the horses, then to give them the day to rest, and proceed to-morrow back again to the large creek, and go on to the distant hills that I was steering for on the 25th instant, but, after considering the matter over the whole night, I have most reluctantly come to the determination to abandon the attempt to make the Gulf of Carpentaria. Situated as I now am, it would be most imprudent. In the first place my party is far too small to cope with such wily, determined natives as those we have just encountered. If they had been Europeans they could not better have arranged and carried out their plan of attack. They had evidently observed us passing in the morning, had examined our tracks to see which way we had gone, and knew we could get no water down the creek, but must retrace our steps to obtain it above them; they therefore lay in wait for our return. Their charge was in double column, open order, and we had to take steady aim, to make an impression. With such as these for enemies in our rear, and, most probably, far worse in advance, it would be destruction to all my party for me to attempt to go on. All the information of the interior that I have already obtained would be lost. Moreover, we have only half rations for six months, four of which are gone, and I have been economizing as much as I possibly could in case of our having to be out a longer time, so that my men now complain of great weakness, and are unable to perform what they have to do. Again, only two showers of rain have fallen since March, and I am afraid of the waters drying up to the south, and there is no appearance of rain at present. The days are now become very hot again, and the feed for the horses as dry as if it were the middle of summer. The poor animals are very much reduced in condition, so much so that I am afraid of their being longer than one night without water. Finally, my health is so bad, that I am hardly able to sit in the saddle. After taking all those things into consideration, I think it would be madness and folly to attempt more. If my own life were the only sacrifice, I would willingly risk it to accomplish my purpose; but it seems that I am destined to be disappointed; man proposes, but the Almighty disposes, and his will must be obeyed. Seeing the signal fires around, and dreading lest our black friends at Kekwick Ponds might have been playing a double part with us, in spite of their Masonic signs, I gave them a wide berth, and steered for Bishop Creek. Arrived there in the afternoon, and found that the creek had not been visited by natives since we left. These natives do not deposit their dead bodies in the ground, but place them in the trees, and, judging from the number of these corpses which we have passed between this and the large creek, where they made their attack upon us, they must be very numerous. These natives have quite a different cast of features from those in the south; they have neither the broad flat nose and large mouth, nor the projecting eyebrows, but have more of the Malay; they are tall, muscular, well-made men, and I think they must have seen or encountered white men before.

Thursday, 28th June, Bishop Creek. Camped at the rocky water hole north-east side of the McDouall range.

Friday, 29th June, Anderson Creek. Crossed the McDouall ranges and camped on a gum creek on the north-east side of the Murchison ranges, which I have named Gilbert Creek, after Thomas Gilbert, Esquire, late Colonial Storekeeper.

Saturday, 30th June, Gilbert Creek. Crossed the Murchison ranges, and the large gum creek coming from them, and running west-north-west, which I have named Baker Creek, after the Honourable John Baker, M.L.C. I did not examine it, but should think from its appearance that there is water in it; besides, I can distinguish the smoke of a native encampment. Proceeded to the creek where we camped before, but found all the water gone, except a little moisture in the bottom of the holes. I was rather surprised at this, for I thought it would have lasted three months at least. Went to another creek, where there was a large hole of water in conglomerate rock; this we found also to be very much reduced; when we last saw it, its depth was four feet, and now it is only eighteen inches. Camped.

Sunday, 1st July, Murchison Ranges. My horses very tired, and three of them are nearly done up.

Monday, 2nd July, Murchison Ranges. Proceeded to the Bonney Creek to get feed for the horses, there being very little besides spinifex under the ranges. Smoke of native encampments on and about the creek; I must be very careful.

Tuesday, 3rd July, The Bonney Creek. We have not seen any more of the natives yet. I shall rest the horses to-day, there being plenty of feed, which they very much want. Being so very few of us, I am obliged to turn them out with the saddles on; so that, if we are attacked again, one can put the packs on, while I and the other defend him. The water in this hole is very much reduced, but I think it will not fail altogether, in consequence of the small fish being in it. From the diminution of the water in this creek since I left it, a month ago, I am inclined to think that I shall have a very hard push to get back; my horses being so weak from the hardships they have undergone, that they are now unable to do as much as they did before. I fear that I shall not get any water between this and Forster's range, a distance of upwards of eighty miles, so I shall rest them here for a week, if the natives will be quiet; if not, I must run the risk of losing more of them. To-day, I had made up my mind to follow out this creek, to see if the waters continue, and if it would take me to the north of the spinifex and gum-tree plain which I had to turn back from on my north-west course from Mount Denison, and if rain falls to try again for the Victoria River. I am, however, disappointed, for, on weighing the rations, I find I am terribly short, which I did not expect, and which cuts off all hope of my attaining that point. My troubles and vexations seem to come upon me all at once. Had I but a stronger party, and six months' rations, I think I should be able to accomplish something before my return. I have done my best, and can do no more. My eyesight is now so bad that I cannot depend upon my observations, which will be a great loss to me; and the scurvy has returned with greater severity. Before I start on my return, if everything goes right, I shall run down this creek a short distance. It may, at some future time, turn out to be the road to the Victoria River, or one of its tributaries. Wind south and south-west.

Wednesday, 4th July, The Bonney Creek. The water in this hole has been diminishing very rapidly since we were here; it is falling at the rate of six inches per day, which is a poor look-out for us on our homeward course. I have not a day to spare now, as the weather is becoming very hot, and will dry it up much faster. I must push back as soon as my horses are rested and able to undergo the eighty miles without water. I must give up the examination of this creek, for every day now is of the utmost importance, and I must not give the horses one mile more than I can help. Oh! that rain would fall before I leave this. It would indeed be an inestimable blessing. Wind from all points. At sundown a few clouds have made their appearance.

Thursday, 5th July, The Bonney Creek. During the night it became very cloudy from the west, and this morning still continues. My hopes are again raised. If it should rain, I shall try for the Victoria River again, even though I should be without rations for my return; I could kill one of the horses and dry his flesh, and that would take me back. Still very cloudy, and every sign of rain. I am making preparations for another trial. At sundown there are still heavy black clouds coming from the west, which have raised our hopes of success to the highest point, and I ardently trust they will be realized. No natives have come near us, yet they are still about.

Friday, 6th July, The Bonney Creek. A sad, sad disappointment; all our most sanguine hopes are again gone, for, during the night, the clouds broke up and have all vanished; it is very vexing. I shall rest the horses till Monday, and then, ill and dispirited, commence my homeward journey. I dare not venture into a new route, for, want of water, and the low condition of my horses, compel me to keep my former track. Last night about 10 o'clock, I observed the comet for the first time, above the west horizon; it set at 7 o'clock 20 degrees north of west. At sundown it has become overcast with heavy clouds, and my hopes are again raised; I trust we may get it now. Midnight: still cloudy, and every appearance of rain. Wind changeable.

Saturday, 7th July, The Bonney Creek. Alas! all the clouds are again gone; our hopes were only raised to be dashed down with greater disappointment. The wind has returned to its old quarter, south-east. Natives still about, but they do not come near us. I shall now prepare for my return on Monday morning; it is very disheartening.

Sunday, 8th July, The Bonney Creek. The weather has every appearance of being dry for some time to come, not a cloud to be seen; the wind south-east, and very cold night and morning. All hope of making the coast is now gone. On weighing our rations to-day, I find that we are again short since we halted here. The man Ben has been making it a regular practice to steal them since he has been with me. I have caught him several times doing so, and all the threats and warnings of the consequences have had no effect upon him. They deter him for a day or two, and then he is as bad as ever. I have been in the habit of reducing our allowance to make up for the loss, which has been very hard upon Kekwick and myself; he has helped himself to about double his allowance during the journey.

Monday, 9th July, The Bonney Creek. Started for the Davenport range, where we camped before; the water is all dried up. Ascended the range, and changed my bearing to Mount Morphett, 196 degrees, in the Crawford range, in the hope of finding water there. At four miles struck the creek that I have before crossed nearer to the range, found water, and camped to give my horses every chance. I have named this creek Barker Creek, after Mr. Chambers' brother-in-law. I do not think this water is permanent, but, from the number of birds that are passing up the creek, I think there must be permanent water higher up. This range seems to yield a deal of water on both sides. Native graves about.

Tuesday, 10th July, Barker Creek. Started at 6.30 on a bearing of 196 degrees towards Mount Strzelecki. At six miles crossed a gum creek, coming from the range, and running to the west, on my former track. I crossed it where it lost itself on the plain. The country is well grassed, with a little spinifex occasionally, from the range to this point. At twelve miles it became scrubby and sandy with a little grass, spinifex predominating, which continued to where we camped. Wind, south-east.

Wednesday, 11th July, Scrub North-north-east of Mount Strzelecki. One of the horses having parted from the others, and gone a long distance off in search of water, it was 9 o'clock before we could get a start. At seven miles arrived at a lagoon north-east of Mount Strzelecki. Found a little water and feed for the horses. Camped to give them the benefit of it. Wind, south-south-east. Cold.

Thursday, 12th July, Lagoon North-east of Mount Strzelecki. Made an early start, crossing the range, on a south course. Very rough and difficult. Could see no water. To the south-east of Mount Morphett there is the appearance of a creek, and on the south-west there are also the signs of a watered country, which is more hilly. Proceeded on through the thick dead mulga scrub, to the north side of Forster range, where we camped at dark without water. The country passed over to-day is splendidly grassed, especially as we approached the range. There is also a little spinifex, but not much. Distance to-day, thirty-two miles.

Friday, 13th July, North Side of Forster Range. Started early, proceeding to the gum creek coming from the north side of Forster's range, where we found a little water, numerous fresh tracks of natives, and a great number of birds. I have named this the Barrow Creek, after J.H. Barrow, Esquire, M.P. Crossed the range to the Stirling Creek, which we followed down, and found an abundant supply of water. The upper part of it is now dry, and it is difficult to say whether it is permanent or not; but, to judge from the number of native tracks and encampments, and the many birds, I should think it is. The wood-duck is also on some of the pools. At dark we can hear the natives down the creek.

Saturday, 14th July, Stirling Creek. I shall give the horses a rest to-day and to-morrow, for I do not expect to get water before we reach the reservoir in the Reynolds range. I am afraid it will be all gone in the Hanson and at the Centre.

Sunday, 15th July, Stirling Creek. Resting horses, etc., etc.

Monday, 16th July, Stirling Creek. The natives were prowling about during the night, and startled three horses, which separated from the others, went off at full gallop, and were not recovered till noon, about four miles off. Too late to start to-day, for which I am very sorry, as every hour is now of the utmost value to us, in consequence of the evaporation of the water. Not the slightest appearance of any rain yet. Wind, south.

Tuesday, 17th July, Stirling Creek. Proceeded to the Hanson. Shortly after we started, we were followed by the natives, shouting as they came along, but keeping at a respectful distance. They followed us through the scrub for about two hours, but when we came to the open ground at the lagoons they went off. I intended to have halted and spoken to them there, thinking it would not be safe to do so in the scrub. They were tall, powerful-looking fellows, and had their arms with them. We then went on to the Hanson, crossing numerous fresh native tracks. On nearing the water, we saw five blacks, who took fright and went off at full speed. There were many more in the distance; in fact, they seemed to be very numerous about here. The country all round was covered with their tracks. Found water still there, but had to clear the sand away a little to give the horses a drink. Thinking that it would not be safe to camp in the neighbourhood of so many natives, I went on to the Central Creek, and in going through some scrub, we again disturbed some more, but could only see children, one a little fellow about seven years old, who was cleaning some grass seeds in a worley, with a child who could just walk. The moment he saw us he jumped up, and, seizing his father's spear, took the child by the hand and walked off out of our way. It was quite pleasing to see the bold spirit of the little fellow. On nearing Central Mount Stuart we saw two men, who made off into the scrub. Arrived at the creek after dark, but the water is all gone. On examining the hole where the water was, we discovered a small native well, with a very little water, too little to be of any service to me. To-morrow morning I must push on through the scrub to Anna's Reservoir. My horses are still very weak, and I do not think they will be able to do it in a day. Wind variable.

Wednesday, 18th July, Centre. Starting early, we crossed the Hanson, and got through the scrub to the gum plains, where we camped at sundown, the horses not being able to do the whole journey in one day. The creeks empty themselves into the plains, but there is no water. Still, from the number of birds that are about, I think there must be water not far away, but I have no time to search for it. If I do not find water in the gum creek (which is doubtful) the horses will have another long day's journey. They are suffering much from the dryness of the feed, three of them being infected with worms. Wind, south-east.

Thursday, 19th July, Gum Plains. Made our way through the remainder of the scrub, and arrived in the afternoon at the gum creek, where we found a little water, and clearing away the sand, obtained enough for our horses. There will be enough for them to-day and to-morrow morning. I shall therefore stop here for the rest of the day. There are some heavy clouds coming up from the west and south-west, which I hope will give us rain. Wind still from the south-east. The natives have been upon our old tracks through the whole of the scrub in great numbers, and there are many traces of them about this creek, some of which are quite fresh. The drying up of the water round about has compelled them to collect round this and other creeks which are permanent.

Friday, 20th July, Gum Creek North-east of Mount Freeling. Crossed the Reynolds range to Anna's Reservoir, which is still full of water. I may now say that this is permanent. The water we camped at is gone, but there is still a little down the creek. We could not get enough for the horses this morning in the creek we have left. Judging from the number of native tracks that we have crossed this morning, there must be permanent water on the north side of the range, which is composed of immense blocks of granite, apparently on the top of mica slate, with occasional courses of quartz and ironstone. To the north-east of where we camped last night, about three miles distant, is the point of the range, on which there is a very remarkable high peak, composed of ironstone, with a number of very rough rounded ironstone hills. I have named this Mount Freeling. Here I found indications of copper, the only place I have seen it in all this journey. The natives do not seem to have frequented this reservoir much of late, as there were no fresh tracks within two miles of it. In the creek close by, there were some very old worleys. No rain; clouds all gone. Wind, still south-east.