In crossing over to this point the ground was stony, but there was a good deal of grass growing in tufts upon it, and bare patches of blistered earth on which flat stools of gypsum were apparently in process of formation. Immediately to the left there were five remarkable conical hills. These we successively passed, and then entered a narrow, short valley, between the last of these cones and the hill we were about to ascend. The ground was covered with fragments of indurated quartz (of which the whole group was composed), in parallelograms of different dimensions. The scene was like that of a city whose structures had been shaken to pieces by an earthquake—one of ruin and desolation. The faces of the hills, both here and in other parts of the group, were cracked by solar heat, and thus the rock was scaling off. We were here obliged to dismount and walk. The day being insufferably hot, it was no pleasant task to climb under such exposure to an elevation of nearly 500 feet. We had frequently to take breath during our ascent, and reached the summit of the hill somewhat exhausted. The view was precisely similar to that we had overlooked from the opposite point, which bore W. by N. from us. Again the two little peaks were visible to the N.N.W., and after taking bearings of several distant points, we descended, as I had determined on returning for the night to the creek we had passed in the morning, and tracing it into the hills on my way to the westward. Accordingly, on the following morning we commenced our journey up it at an early hour, not knowing where we should next find the water. At about six miles we had entered a valley, with high land on either side, and at a mile beyond reached the head of the creek, and had the steep brow of a hill to ascend, which I thought it most prudent first to attempt on foot. Mr. Browne and I, therefore, climbed it, and on looking back to the north-east, saw there was a declining plain in that direction. Over the level outline the tops of the projections of this range were to be seen all exactly alike; but there was an open space to the north-east, as if the fall of waters was to that point. There were also some low scattered trees upon the plain, seeming to mark the course of a creek. Anxious to ascertain if we had been so fortunate, I looked for a practicable line for the horses to ascend, and having got them up the hill, we pushed forward. On arriving at the first trees, there was a little channel, or rather gutter, and a greener verdure marked its course along the plain to the next trees. Gradually it became larger, and at last was fully developed as a creek. After tracing it down for some miles, having stony barren plains on both sides, we turned to look for the hill we had so lately left, and only for a red tint it had peculiar to itself, should we again have recognised it. We now pushed on in eager anticipation that sooner or later water would appear, and this hope was at last gratified by our arrival at a fine pool, into which we drove a brood of very young ducks, and might, if we had pleased, shot the mother; but although a roast duck would have been very acceptable, we spared her for her children's sake. This was a nice pond, but small. It was shaded by gum-trees, and there was a cavernous clay bank on the west side of it, in which gravel stones were embedded. Here we staid but for a short time, as it was early in the day. We had flushed numerous pigeons as we rode along, and flights came to the water while we stopped, but were not treated with the same forbearance as the duck. We shot two or three, and capital eating they were. About 3, we had left the creek, as it apparently turned to the eastward, and was lost on the plain, and crossing some stony ground, passed between two little ranges. We then found ourselves on the brow of a deep valley that separated us from the little cones we purposed ascending. The side of it which trended to the north-west was very abrupt and stony, and it was with some difficulty we descended into it; but that done, we left Morgan and Flood with the cart, and ascended the nearer peak.

From the summit of the highest of the cones we had a clear view round more than one half of the horizon. Immediately at the base of the ranges northwards, there was a long strip of plain, and beyond it a dark and gloomy scrub, that swept round from S.W. to E., keeping equi-distant from the hills, excepting at the latter point where it closed in upon them. On the N.W. horizon there was a small low undulating range, apparently unconnected with any other, and distant about 40 miles. No change had taken place in the geological formations of the main range. The same abrupt points, and detached flat-topped hills, characterised their northern as well as the southern extremity. We had now however reached their termination northwards, but they continued in an easterly direction until they were totally lost in the dark mass of scrub that covered and surrounded them, not one being of sufficient height to break the line of the horizon. To the S.W. a column of smoke was rising in the midst of the scrub, otherwise that desolate region appeared to be uninhabited. On descending from the peak, we turned to the N.W. along the line of a water-course at the bottom of the valley, tracing it for about four miles with every hope of finding the element we were in search of in its green bed, but we gained the point where the valley opened out upon the plains, and halted under disappointment, yet with good grass for the horses. Our little bivouac was in lat. 29 degrees 2 minutes 14 seconds S. The above outline will enable the reader to judge of the character of the hills, that still existed to the eastward of us, and the probability of their continuance or cessation. I must confess that they looked to me as if they had been so many small islands, off the point of a larger one. They rose in detached groups from the midst of the plains, as such islands from the midst of the sea, and their aspect altogether bore such a striking resemblance to many of the flat-topped islands round the Australian continent described by other travellers, that I could not but think they had once been similarly situated.

On the 18th I passed into the plains until we had cleared the hills, when we rode along their base on a course somewhat to the east of north. We kept about half a mile from the foot of the ranges, with the brush about three miles to our left, and a clear space between us and them. I had been induced to take this direction in the hope that if there were any creeks falling from the hills into the plains we should intersect them, and accordingly after a ride of about seven miles we observed some gum-trees, about two miles ahead. On a nearer approach we saw flights of pigeons, cockatoos, and parrots winging round about them, and making the air resound with their shrill notes. The anticipations these indications of our approach to water raised, were soon verified by our arrival on the banks of a small creek coming from the hills. Under the trees there were two little puddles, rather than pools of water. The one had been reduced to its last dregs, and smelt offensively, the other was very muddy but drinkable, and such as it was we were most grateful for it. The horses requiring rest here, I halted for the night, more especially as the day was unusually hot, and as we could see the creek line of trees extending to the N.W., towards the low range we had noticed in that direction from the little peak, I determined therefore to run it down in the morning, and to make for them, in the hope that something new would develop itself.

On the other side of the creek from that on which we remained, there was a new but unfinished hut. Round about it were the fresh impressions of feet of all sizes, so that it was clear a family of natives must have been engaged in erecting this simple edifice when we were approaching, and that we must have frightened them away. Under this idea Mr. Browne and I tried to find them, perhaps hid in some low brush near us, but we could not. The plains were exceedingly open on both sides, so that they must have seen us at a great distance, and thus had time for flight.

On the 19th we started at daylight, as I proposed if possible to gain the hills before sunset, that being as much as the horses would do. Running the creek down at three and a half miles we were again attracted by a number of birds, pigeons, the rose cockatoo, the crested paroquet, and a variety of others flying round a clump of trees at no great distance from us, but they were exceedingly wild and watchful. We found a pool under, or rather shaded by the trees, of tolerable size, and much better than the water nearer to the hills. Close to it also, on a sloping bank, there was another more than half finished hut from which the natives could only just have retreated, for they had left all their worldly goods behind them; thus it appeared we had scared these poor people a second time from their work. I was really sorry for the trouble we had unintentionally given them, and in order to make up for it, I fastened my own knife with a glittering blade, to the top of a spear that stood upright in front of the hut; not without hopes that the owner of the weapon seeing we intended them no harm, would come to us on our return from the hills.

Below this water-hole the creek sensibly diminished. Crossing and abandoning it we struck away to the N.W. At about half a mile we entered the scrub, which had indeed commenced from the water, but which at that distance became thick. We were then in a perfect desert, from the scrub we got on barren sandy flats, bounded at first by sandy ridges at some little distance from each other, but the formation soon changed, and the sand ridges succeeded each other like waves of the sea. We had no sooner descended one than we were ascending another, and the excessive heat of so confined a place oppressed us greatly. We had on our journey to the westward found an abundance of grass on the sand ridges as well as the flats; but in this desert there was not a blade to be seen. The ridges were covered with spinifex, through which we found it difficult to force a way, and the flats with salsolaceous productions alone. There were no pine trees, but the brush consisted of several kinds of acacia, casuarina, cassia, and hakeae, and these were more bushes than shrubs, for they seldom exceeded our own height, and had leaves only at the termination of their upper branches, all the under leaves having dropped off, withered by the intensity of the reflected surface heat. At one we stopped to rest the horses, but mounted again at half-past one, and reached the hills at 5 p.m. The same dreary desert extended to their base, only that as we approached the hills the flats were broader, and the fall of waters apparently to the east. The surface of the flats was furrowed by water, and there were large bare patches of red soil, but with the exception of a flossy grass that grew sparingly on some of them, nothing but rhagodia and atriplex flourished.

I had tried the temperature of boiling water at the spot where we stopped in the Rocky Glen, and found it to be 211 degrees and a small fraction; and as we descended a little after leaving the creek, we could not have been much above the sea level at one period of the day, although now more than 450 miles from the coast. Our ascent to the top of the little range was very gradual; its sides destitute alike of trees and vegetation, being profusely covered with fragments of indurated quartz, thinly coated with oxide of iron: when on the summit we could not have risen more than 120 feet. It extended for some miles to the N.E., apparently parallel to the ranges from which we had come, whose higher points were visible from it, but to the north and west the horizon was as level as that of the ocean. A dark gloomy sea of scrub without a break in its monotonous surface met our gaze, nor was there a new object of any kind to be seen indicative of a probable change of country. Had other hills appeared to the north I should have made for them, but to have descended into such a district as that below me, seemed to be too hazardous an experiment at this stage of our journey. I determined therefore to return to the main range, and examine it to the north-east. I could not but think, however, from the appearance of the country as far as we had gone, that we could not be very far from the outskirts of an inland sea, it so precisely resembled a low and barren sea coast. This idea I may say haunted me, and was the cause of my making a second journey to the same locality; but on the present occasion, as the sun had set, I retraced my steps to a small flat where we had noticed a little grass, and tethering our horses out laid down to rest.

The desert ridden through the day before, seemed doubly desolate as we returned. The heat was intolerable, in consequence of a hot wind that blew upon us like a sirocco from the N.W., and the air so rarified that we could hardly breathe, and were greatly distressed. To our infinite relief we got back to the creek at half-past two, after a ride of about 37 miles.

The first thing we did on arriving, was to visit the hut of the natives to see if they had been there during our absence, but as my knife still dangled on the spear, we were led to conclude they had not. On examining the edifice, however, we missed several things that had been left untouched by us, and from the fresh footsteps of natives over our own of the day before, it was clear they had been back. The knife which was intended as a peace-offering, seems to have scared them away in almost as much haste as if we had been at their heels. There can be no doubt but that they took it for an evil spirit, at which they were, perhaps, more alarmed than at our uncouth appearance. Be that as it may, we departed from the creek without seeing anything of these poor people.

At a little distance from the creek to the N.W., upon a rising piece of ground, and certainly above the reach of floods, there were seven or eight huts, very different in shape and substance from any we had seen. They were made of strong boughs fixed in a circle in the ground, so as to meet in a common centre; on these there was, as in some other huts I have had occasion to describe, a thick seam of grass and leaves, and over this again a compact coating of clay. They were from eight to ten feet in diameter, and about four and a half feet high, the opening into them not being larger than to allow a man to creep in. These huts also faced the north-west, and each had a smaller one attached to it as shewn in the sketch. Like those before seen they had been left in the neatest order by their occupants, and were evidently used during the rainy season, as they were at some little distance from the creek, and near one of those bare patches in which water must lodge at such times. At whatever season of the year the natives occupy these huts they must be a great comfort to them, for in winter they must be particularly warm, and in summer cooler than the outer air; but the greatest benefit they can confer on these poor people must be that of keeping them from ants, flies, and mosquitos: it is impossible to describe to the reader the annoyance we experienced from the flies during the day, and the ants at night. The latter in truth swarmed in myriads, worked under our covering, and creeping all over us, prevented our sleeping. The flies on the other hand began their attacks at early dawn, and whether we were in dense brush, on the open plain, or the herbless mountain top, they were equally numerous and equally troublesome. On the present occasion Mr. Browne and I regretted we had not taken possession of the deserted huts, as, if we had, we should have got rid of our tormentors, for there were not any to be seen near them. From the fact of these huts facing the north-west I conclude that their more inclement weather is from the opposite point of the compass. It was also evident from the circumstance of their being unoccupied at that time (January), that they were winter habitations, at which season the natives, no doubt, suffer greatly from cold and damp, the country being there much under water, at least from appearances. I had remarked that as we proceeded northwards the huts were more compactly built, and the opening or entrance into them smaller, as if the inhabitants of the more northern interior felt the winter's cold in proportion to the summer heat.

Our position at this point was in latitude 29 degrees 43 minutes S., and in longitude 141 degrees 14 minutes E., the variation being 5 degrees 21 minutes East. I had intended pushing on immediately to the ranges, and examining the country to the north-east; but I thought it prudent ere I did this to ascertain the farther course of this creek, as it appeared from observations we had just made that the fall of waters was to the eastward. We accordingly started at daylight on the 20th, but after tracing it for a few miles, found that it turned sharp round to the westward and spread over a flat, beyond which its channel was nowhere to be found. I therefore turned towards the ranges, and arriving at the upper water-hole at half-past two, determined to stop until the temperature should cool down in the afternoon before I proceeded along the line of hills to the N.E., for the day had been terrifically hot, and both ourselves and our horses were overpowered with extreme lassitude. At a quarter past 3, p.m. on the 21st of January, the thermometer had risen to 131 degrees in the shade, and to 154 degrees in the direct rays of the sun. In the evening however we pushed on for about ten miles, and halted on a plain about a mile from the base of the hills, without water.

On the 22nd we continued our journey to the north-east, through a country that was anything but promising. Although we were traversing plains, our view was limited by acacias and other trees growing upon them. Notwithstanding that we kept close in to the ranges, the water-courses we crossed could hardly be recognised as such, as they scarcely reached to a greater distance than a mile and a half on the plains, before they spread out and terminated. As we advanced the brush became thicker, nor was there anything to cheer us onwards. In the afternoon therefore I turned towards the hills, and ascended one of them, to ascertain if there was any new object in sight, but here again disappointment awaited us.

The hills were more detached than in other places, and much lower. The brush swept over them, and we could see it stretching to the horizon on the distant plains between them. Excepting where the nearer hills rose above it, that horizon was unbroken; nor were the hills, although detached groups still existed to the north-east, distinguishable from the dark plains round them, as the brush extended over all, and the same sombre hue pervaded everything. I should still, however, have persevered in exploring that hopeless region; but my mind had for the last day or two been anxiously drawn to the state of the camp, and the straits to which I felt assured it would have been put, if Mr. Poole had not succeeded in finding water in greater quantity than that on which the people depended when Mr. Browne and I left them. Having been twelve days absent, I felt convinced that the water in the creek had dried up, and thought it more than probable that Mr. Poole had been forced to move from his position. Under such circumstances, I abandoned, for the time, any further examination of the north-east interior, and turning round to the south-west, passed up a flat rather than a valley between the hills, and halted on it at half-past 6 p.m. On the 23rd, we continued on a south-west course, and gradually ascended the more elevated part of the range; at 2 p.m. reached the water-hole we discovered the day we crossed the hills to the little peaks. Our journey back to the camp was only remarkable for the heat to which we were exposed. We reached it on the 24th of the month, and were really glad to get under shelter of the tents. All the water in the different creeks we passed in going out, had sunk many inches, and as I had feared, that at the camp had entirely vanished, and Mr. Poole having been obliged to dig a hole in the middle of the creek, was obtaining a precarious supply for the men, the cattle being driven to a neighbouring pond, which they had all but exhausted.

As the reader will naturally conclude, I was far from satisfied with the result of this last excursion. It had indeed determined the cessation of high land to the north and north-east; for although I had not reached the termination of the ranges in the latter direction, no doubt rested on my mind but that they gradually fell to a level with the plains. We had penetrated to lat. 28 degrees 43 minutes S., and to long. 141 degrees 4 minutes 30 seconds; but had found a country worse than that over which we had already passed—a country, in truth, that under existing circumstances was perfectly impracticable. Yet from appearances I could not but think that an inland sea existed not far from the point we had gained. As I have already observed, the fall of all the creeks from Flood's Creek had been to the eastward, and from what we could judge at our extreme north, the dip of the country was also to the eastward. I thought it more than probable, therefore, that we were still in the valley of the Darling, and that if we could have persevered in a northerly course, we should have crossed to the opposite fall of waters, and to a decided change of country.

We had hitherto made but few additions to our collections. A new hawk and a few parrots were all the birds we shot; and if I except another new and beautiful species of Grevillia, we added nothing to our botanical collections. The geological formation was such as I have already described—a compact quartz of a dirty white. Of this adamantine rock all the hills were now composed.

A remarkable feature in the geology of the hills we had recently visited was, as I have remarked, that they were covered with the same productions and the same stones as the plains below, of which they seemed to have formed a part. Milky quartz was scattered over them, although no similar formation was visible; of manganese, basalt, and ironstone, with other substances, there were now no indications. None of these fragments had been rounded by attrition, but still retained their sharp edges and seemed to be little changed by time.

Mr. Poole informed me, that the day he returned to the party he proceeded towards the little range I had directed him to examine; in which, I should observe, both he and Mr. Browne thought there might be water, as they had passed to the westward of it, on their last journey towards the hills, and had then noticed it. Mr. Poole stated, that on approaching the range he arrived at a line of gumtrees, under which there was a long deep sheet of water; that crossing at the head of this, he entered a rocky glen, where there were successive pools in stony basins, in which he considered there was an inexhaustible supply of water for us; but that although the water near the camp had dried up, he had been unwilling to move until my return. The reader may well imagine the satisfaction this news gave me; for had my officer not been so fortunate, our retreat upon the Darling would have been inevitable, whatever difficulties might have attended such a movement—for we were in some measure cut off from it, or should only have made the retreat at an irreparable sacrifice of animals. Mr. Poole had also been down the creek whereon the camp was posted, and had found that it overflowed a large plain, but failing to recover the channel, he supposed it had there terminated. He met a large tribe of natives, amounting in all to forty or more, who appeared to be changing their place of abode. They were very quiet and inoffensive, and seemed rather to avoid than to court any intercourse with the party.

Foulkes, one of the bullock drivers, had had a sharp attack of illness, but was in some degree recovered. In all other respects everything was regular, and the stock at hand in the event of their being wanted.

I was exceedingly glad to find that the natives had not shewn any unfriendly disposition towards Mr. Poole and his men; but I subsequently learnt from him a circumstance that will in some measure account for their friendly demonstrations. It would appear that Sullivan and Turpin when out one day, during my absence, after the cattle, saw a native and his lubra crossing the plains to the eastward, with some stones for grinding their grass seed, it being their harvest time. Sullivan went after them; but they were exceedingly alarmed, and as he approached the woman set fire to the grass; but on seeing him bound over the flaming tussocks, they threw themselves on the ground, and as the lad saw their terror he left them and returned to his companion. No sooner, however, had these poor creatures escaped one dreaded object than they encountered another, in the shape of Mack, who was on horseback. As soon as they saw him they took to their heels; but putting his horse into a canter, he was up with them before they were aware of it; on this they threw down their stones, bags, net, and fire-stick, and scrambled up into a tree. The fire-stick set the grass on fire, and all their valuables would have been consumed, if Mack had not very properly dismounted and extinguished the flames, and put the net and bags in a place of safety. He could not, however, persuade either of the natives to descend, and therefore rode away. Mack happened to be with Mr. Poole at the time he met the tribe, and was recognised by the man and woman, who offered both him and Mr. Poole some of their cakes. Had the behaviour of my men been different, they would most likely have suffered for it; but I was exceedingly pleased at their strict compliance with my orders in this respect, and did not fail to express my satisfaction, and to point out the beneficial consequences of such conduct.

Mr. Poole having thus communicated with the natives, I was anxious to profit by it, and if possible to establish a friendly intercourse; the day after my arrival at the camp, therefore, I went down the creek with Mack in the hope of seeing them. I took a horse loaded with sugar and presents, and had every anticipation of success; but we were disappointed, since the whole tribe had crossed the plains, on the hard surface of which we lost their tracks. On this ride I found a beautiful little kidney bean growing as a runner amongst the grass, on small patches of land subject to flood. It had a yellow blossom, and the seed was very small and difficult to collect, as it appeared to be immediately attacked by insects.

The fact of the natives having crossed the plain confirmed my impression that the creek picked up beyond it, and I determined on the first favourable opportunity to ascertain that fact. It now, however, only remained for me to place the camp in a more convenient position. To do this we moved on the 27th, and whilst Mr. Browne led the party across the plains, I rode on ahead with Mr. Poole to select the ground on which to pitch our tents. At the distance of seven miles we arrived at the entrance of the little rocky glen through which the creek passes, and at once found ourselves on the brink of a fine pond of water, shaded by trees and cliffs. The scenery was so different from any we had hitherto seen, that I was quite delighted, but the ground being sandy was unfit for us, we therefore turned down the creek towards the long sheet of water Mr. Poole had mentioned, and waited there until the drays arrived, when we pitched our tents close to it, little imagining that we were destined to remain at that lonely spot for six weary months. We were not then aware that our advance and our retreat were alike cut off.



CHAPTER VI.



THE DEPOT—FURTHER PROGRESS CHECKED—CHARACTER OF THE RANGES—JOURNEY TO THE NORTH-EAST—RETURN—JOURNEY TO THE WEST—RETURN—AGAIN PROCEED TO THE NORTH—INTERVIEW WITH NATIVES—ARRIVE AT THE FARTHEST WATER—THE PARTY SEPARATES—PROGRESS NORTHWARDS—CONTINUE TO ADVANCE—SUFFERINGS OF THE HORSE—CROSS THE 28TH PARALLEL—REJOIN MR. STUART—JOURNEY TO THE WESTWARD—CHARACTER OF THE COUNTRY—FIND TWO PONDS OF WATER—THE GRASSY PARK—RETURN TO THE RANG—EXCESSIVE HEAT—A SINGULAR GEOLOGICAL FEATURE—REGAIN THE DEPOT.

As the reader will have learnt from what I have stated at the conclusion of the last chapter, we pitched our tents at the place to which I have led him, and which I shall henceforth call the "Depot," on the 27th of January, 1845. They were not struck again until the 17th of July following.

This ruinous detention paralyzed the efforts and enervated the strength of the expedition, by constitutionally affecting both the men and animals, and depriving them of the elasticity and energy with which they commenced their labours. It was not however until after we had run down every creek in our neighbourhood, and had traversed the country in every direction, that the truth flashed across my mind, and it became evident to me, that we were locked up in the desolate and heated region, into which we had penetrated, as effectually as if we had wintered at the Pole. It was long indeed ere I could bring myself to believe that so great a misfortune had overtaken us, but so it was. Providence had, in its allwise purposes, guided us to the only spot, in that wide-spread desert, where our wants could have been permanently supplied, but had there stayed our further progress into a region that almost appears to be forbidden ground. The immediate effect, however, of our arrival at the Depot, was to relieve my mind from anxiety as to the safety of the party. There was now no fear of our encountering difficulties, and perhaps perishing from the want of that life-sustaining element, without which our efforts would have been unavailing, for independently of the beautiful sheet of water, on the banks of which the camp was established, there was a small lagoon to the S.E. of us, and around it there was a good deal of feed, besides numerous water-holes in the rocky gully. The creek was marked by a line of gum-trees, from the mouth of the glen to its junction with the main branch, in which, excepting in isolated spots, water was no longer to be found. The Red Hill (afterwards called Mount Poole), bore N.N.W. from us, distant 3 1/2 miles; between us and it there were undulating plains, covered with stones or salsolaceous herbage, excepting in the hollows, wherein there was a little grass. Behind us were level stony plains, with small sandy undulations, bounded by brush, over which the Black Hill, bearing S.S.E. from the Red Hill, was visible, distant 10 miles. To the eastward the country was, as I have described it, hilly. Westward at a quarter of a mile the low range, through which Depot Creek forces itself, shut out from our view the extensive plains on which it rises. This range extended longitudinally nearly north and south, but was nowhere more than a mile and a half in breadth. The geological formation of the range was slate, traversed by veins of quartz, its interstices being filled with magnesian limestone. Steep precipices and broken rugged gullies alternated on either side of this creek, and in its bed there were large slabs of beautiful slate. The precipices shewed the lateral formation with the rock split into the finest laminae, terminating in sharp points. But neither on the ranges or on the plains behind the camp was there any feed for the cattle, neither were the banks of the creek or its neighbourhood to be put in comparison with Flood's Creek in this respect, for around it there was an abundance as well as a variety of herbage. Still the vegetation on the Depot Creek was vigorous, and different kinds of seeds were to be procured. I would dwell on this fact the more forcibly, because I shall, at a future stage of this journey, have to remark on the state of the vegetation at this very spot, that is to say, when the expedition was on its return from the interior at the close of the year.

A few days after we had settled ourselves at the Depot, Mr. Browne had a serious attack of illness, that might have proved fatal; but it pleased God to restore him to health and reserve him for future usefulness. At this time, too, the men generally complained of rheumatism, and I suspected that I was not myself altogether free from that depressing complaint, since I had violent pains in my hip joints; but I attributed them to my having constantly slept on the hard ground, and frequently in the bed of some creek or other. It eventually proved, however, that I had been attacked by a more fearful malady than rheumatism in its worst stage.

There being no immediate prospect of our removal, I determined to complete the charts up to thepoint to which we had penetrated. I therefore sent Mr. Stuart, on the 2nd February, to sketch in the ranges to the eastward, and connect them with the hills I had lately crossed over. I directed Lewis, who had been in the survey, to assist Mr. Stuart, and sent Flood with them to trace down the creek I had noticed from several of our stations on the northern ranges, as passing through a gap in the hills to the eastward. They returned to the camp on the 4th, Mr. Stuart having been very diligent in his work. Flood had also obeyed my orders; but could find no water in the lower branches of the creek, although there was so much in it nearer the hills. The party had fallen in with a small tribe of natives, for whom Flood had shot an emu. Mr. Stuart informed me that they were very communicative; but their language was unknown to him. He understood from them that they intended to visit the camp in a couple of days; but as I had some doubts on this head, and was anxious to establish a communication, and induce them to return with me to the camp, I rode on the 5th with Mr. Browne across the plain, at the farther extremity of which they were encamped near a little muddy puddle. Flood and Joseph in the light cart accompanied us.

Great as the heat had been, it appeared rather to increase than diminish. The wind constantly blew from the E.S.E. in the morning, with the deep purple tint to the west I have already had occasion to notice. It then went round with the sun, and blew heavily at noon; but gradually subsided to a calm at sunset, and settled in the west, the same deep tint being then visible above the eastern horizon which in the morning had been seen in the west. The thermometer ranged from 100 degrees to 117 degrees in the shade at 3 p.m.; the barometer from 29.300 degrees to 29.100 degrees. Water boiled at 211 degrees and a fraction; but there was no dew point. I should have stated, that both whilst Mr. Browne and I were in the hills and at the camp, there was thunder and rain on the 23rd, 24th, and 25th, but the showers were too light even to lay the dust, and had no effect whatever on the temperature.

The morning we started to pay a visit to the blacks was more than usually oppressive even at daybreak, and about 9 it blew a hot wind from the N.E. As we rode across the stony plain lying between us and the hills, the heated and parching blasts that came upon us were more than we could bear. We were in the centre of the plain, when Mr. Browne drew my attention to a number of small black specks in the upper air. These spots increasing momentarily in size, were evidently approaching us rapidly. In an incredibly short time we were surrounded by several hundreds of the common kite, stooping down to within a few feet of us, and then turning away, after having eyed us steadily. Several approached us so closely, that they threw themselves back to avoid contact, opening their beaks and spreading out their talons. The long flight of these birds, reaching from the ground into the heavens, put me strongly in mind of one of Martin's beautiful designs, in which he produces the effect of distance by a multitude of objects gradually vanishing from the view. Whatever the reader may think, these birds had a most formidable aspect, and were too numerous for us to have overpowered, if they had really attacked us. That they came down to see what unusual object was wandering across the lonely deserts over which they soar, in the hope of prey, there can be no doubt; but seeing that we were likely to prove formidable antagonists, they wheeled from us in extensive sweeps, and were soon lost to view in the lofty region from whence they had descended.

When we reached the place where the natives had been, we were disappointed in not finding them. They had, however, covered up their fires and left their nets, as if with the intention of returning. Nevertheless we missed them, and reached the tents late in the evening, after a ride of 40 miles.

After my return from this excursion, I was busily employed filling-in the charts; but the ink in our pens dried so rapidly, that we were obliged to have an underground room constructed to work in, and it proved of infinite service and comfort, insomuch that the air in it was generally from 7 degrees to 8 degrees cooler than that of the outer air.

Our observations and lunars placed us in latitude 29 degrees 40 minutes 14 seconds S., and in longitude 141 degrees 30 minutes 41 seconds E. Mount Hopeless, therefore, bore W. by S. {N.N.W. in published text} of us, as we were still 7 miles to the north of it {25 MILES TO THE SOUTH OF IT in published text}, the difference of longitude being about 110 {171 in published text} miles, and our distance from the eastern shore of Lake Torrens about 85 {120 in published text}. The result of our lunars, however, placed us somewhat to the westward of the longitude I have given; and when I came to try my angles back from the Depot to Williorara, I found that they terminated considerably to the westward of Sir Thomas Mitchell's position there. My lunars at Williorara, however, had not been satisfactory, and I therefore gave that officer credit for correctness, and in the first chart I transmitted to the Secretary of State assumed his position to be correct. There was a small range, distant about 20 miles to the westward of the stony range connected with the Depot Creek. It struck me that we might from them obtain a distant view of Mount Serle, or see some change of country favourable to my future views. Under this impression, I left the camp on the 7th of the month, with Mr. Poole and two of the men. The ranges were at a greater distance than I had imagined, but were of trifling elevation, and on arriving at them I found that the horizon to the westward was still closed from my view, by rising ground that intervened. I should have pushed on for it, but Mr. Poole was unfortunately taken ill, and I felt it necessary to give him my own horse, as having easier paces than the one he was riding. It was with difficulty I got him on his way back to the camp as far as the upper waterhole, just outside the Rocky Glen, at which we slept, and by that means reached the tents early on the following morning. I had anticipated rain before we should get back, from the masses of heavy clouds that rose to the westward, after the wind, which had been variable, had settled in that quarter; but they were dispersed during the night, and the morning of the 8th was clear and warm. We had felt it exceedingly hot the day we left the camp—there the men were oppressed with intolerable heat, the thermometer having risen to 112 degrees in the shade. We had not ourselves felt the day so overpowering, probably because we were in motion, and it is likely that a temporary change in the state of the atmosphere, had influenced the temperature, as the eastern horizon was banded by thunder clouds, though not so heavy as those to the westward, and there was a good deal of lightning in that quarter.

I have said that I was not satisfied with the result of my last excursion with Mr. Browne to the north. I could not but think that we had approached to within a tangible distance of an inland sea, from the extreme depression and peculiar character of the country we traversed. I determined, therefore, to make another attempt to penetrate beyond the point already gained, and to ascertain the nature of the interior there; making up my mind at the same time to examine the country both to the eastward and westward of the northern ranges before I should return to the camp. Mr. Poole and Mr. Browne being too weak to venture on a protracted excursion of such a kind, I took Mr. Stuart, my draftsman, with me. I should have delayed this excursion for a few days, however, only that I feared the total failure of the creeks in the distant interior; I proposed, in the first place, to make for the last and most distant water-hole in the little creek beyond the ranges. Thence to take the light cart with one horse, carrying as much water as he could draw, and with one man, on foot, to pursue a due north course into the brush. I hoped by this arrangement to gain the 27th parallel, and in so doing to satisfy myself as to the point on which I was so anxious. I selected a fine young lad to accompany me, named Joseph Cowley, because I felt some confidence in his moral courage in the event of any disaster befalling us. On this occasion I had the tank reconstructed, and took all the barrels I could, to enable me to go as far as possible, and the day after I returned to the camp with Mr. Poole, again left it with Mr. Stuart, Joseph, and Flood, in whose charge I intended to leave my horse during my absence—during which I also proposed that Mr. Stuart should employ his time tracing in the hills.

We reached the muddy creek at the foot of the hills at 2 p.m., after a ride of 25 miles, over the stony and barren plains I have described, and as the distance to the next water was too great for us to attempt reaching it until late, we stopped here for the night. Some natives had been on the creek in the early part of the day, and had apparently moved down it to the eastward. The water had diminished fearfully since the time we passed on our return from the north.

The day was cool and pleasant, as the wind blew from the south, and the thermometer did not rise above 95 degrees.

We had not ridden four miles on the following morning, when we observed several natives on the plain at a little distance to the south, to whom we called out, and who immediately came to us. We stopped with these people for more than two hours, in the hope that we should gain some information from them, either as to when we might expect rain, or of the character of the distant interior, but they spoke a language totally different from the river tribes, although they had some few words in common, so that I could not rely on my interpretation of what they said. They were all of them circumcised, and all but one wanted the right front tooth of the upper jaw. When we left these people I gave them a note for Mr. Poole, in the faint hope that they would deliver it, and I explained to them that he would give them a tomahawk and blankets, but, as I afterwards learnt, they never went to the camp.

When Mr. Browne and I were in this neighbourhood before, he had some tolerable sport shooting the new pigeon, the flesh of which was most delicious. At that time they were feeding upon the seed of the rice grass, and were scattered about, but we now found them, as well as many other birds, congregated in vast numbers preparing to migrate to the north-east, apparently their direct line of migration; they were comparatively wild, so that our only chance of procuring any was when they came to water.

On the 9th we slept at the water in the creek at the top of the ranges; but, on the 10th, instead of going through the pass, and by the valley, under the two little peaks, through which we had entered the plains on the first journey, we now turned to the westward in order to avoid that rugged line, and discovered that the creek, instead of losing itself in the flat to the eastward, continued on a westerly course to our left; for being attracted by a flight of pigeons, wheeling round some gum-trees, we might otherwise have overlooked it; I sent Flood to examine the ground, who returned with the pleasing information that the creek had reformed, and that there was a pool of water under the trees, nearly as large as the one we had just left.

I was exceedingly pleased at this discovery and determined to send Mr. Stuart back to it, as it would place him nearer his work. We reached the farthest water, from which we had the second time driven the poor native, late in the afternoon, and on examining the hut, found he had ventured back to it and taken away his traps; but the water in the creek was almost dried up; thick, muddy, and putrid, we could hardly swallow it, and I regretted that we had not brought water with us from the hills, but I had been influenced by a desire to spare my poor horse, as I knew the task that was before him, although the poor brute was little aware of it. About sunset an unfortunate emu came to water, and unconsciously approached us so near that Flood shot it with his fusee. This was a solitary wanderer, for we had seen very few either of these birds or kangaroos in these trackless solitudes.

On the morning of the 10th we were up early, and had loaded the cart with 69 gallons of water before breakfast, when Joseph and I took our departure, and Mr. Stuart with Flood returned to the hills. I had selected one of our best horses for this journey, an animal I had purchased from Mr. Frew of Adelaide. He was strong, powerful, and in good condition, therefore well qualified for the journey. I had determined on keeping a general north course, but in the kind of country in which I soon found myself it was impossible to preserve a direct line. At about four miles from the creek the brush became thick, and the country sandy, and at six miles the sand ridges commenced. Wishing to ease the horse as much as possible, Joseph endeavoured to round them by keeping on the intervening flats, but this necessarily lengthened the day's journey, and threw me more to the eastward than I had intended. A noon I halted for two hours, and then pushed on, the day being cool, with the wind as it had been for the last three or four days from the south. Had the country continued as it was, we might have got on tolerably, but as we advanced it changed greatly for the worse. We lost the flats, on a general coating of sand thickly matted with spinifex, through which it was equally painful to ourselves and poor Punch to tread. We crossed small sandy basins or hollows, and were unable to see to any distance. The only trees growing in this terrible place were a few acacias in the hollows, and some straggling melaleuca, with hakeae and one or two other common shrubs, all of low growth; there was no grass, neither were the few herbs that grew on the hollows such as the horse would eat. We stopped a little after sunset, having journeyed about 22 miles, on a small flat on which there were a few acacias, and some low silky grass as dry as a chip, so that if we had not been provident in bringing some oats poor Punch would have gone without his supper. A meridian altitude of Capella placed us in lat. 28 degrees 41 minutes 0 seconds. Our longitude by account being 141 degrees 15 minutes E. When I rose at daylight on the following morning, I observed that the horse had eaten but little of the dry and withered food on which he had been tethered; however, in consequence of our tank leaking, I was enabled to give him a good drink, when he seemed to revive, but no sooner commenced pulling than he perspired most profusely. We kept a more regular course than on the previous day, over a country that underwent no change. Before we started I left a nine gallon cask of water in a small flat to ease the horse, and as the water in the tank had almost all leaked out, his load was comparatively light. Still it was a laborious task to draw the cart over such a country. Fortunately for us the weather was cool, as the wind continued south, for I do not know what we should have done if we had been exposed to the same heat Mr. Browne and myself had experienced on our return from the little stony ranges now about 10 miles to the westward of us. A little before noon the wind shifted to the N.E.; I had at this time stopped to rest the horse, but we immediately experienced a change of temperature, and the thermometer which stood at 81 degrees rose before we again started to 93 degrees, and at half-past three had attained 119 degrees. We were then in one of the most gloomy regions that man ever traversed. The stillness of death reigned around us, no living creature was to be heard; nothing visible inhabited that dreary desert but the ant, even the fly shunned it, and yet its yielding surface was marked all over with the tracks of native dogs.

We started shortly after noon, and passed a pointed sand-hill, from whence we could not only see the stony range but also the main range of hills. The little peak on which Mr. Browne and I took bearings on our last journey bore 150 degrees, the pass through which we had descended into the plains 170 degrees, when I turned however to take bearings of the stony range it had disappeared, having been elevated by refraction above its true position. It bore about N.W. 1/2 W., distant from eight to nine miles. It was again some time after sunset before we halted, on a small flat that might contain two or at the most three acres. There was some silky grass upon it, but this I knew the horse would not eat, neither had I more than a pint of oats to give him. Our latitude here was 28 degrees 22 minutes 0 seconds.

On the morning of the 13th we still pushed on, leaving, as before, a cask of water to pick up on our return. I had been obliged to limit the horse to six gallons a day, but where he had been in the habit of drinking from 25 to 30, so small a quantity would not suffice. We had not gone many miles when he shewed symptoms of exhaustion, and rather tottered than walked. He took no pains to avoid anything, but threw Joseph into every bush he passed. The country still continued unchanged, sand and spinifex were the universal covering of the land, and only round the edges of the little flats were a few stunted shrubs to be seen. It was marvellous to me that such a country should extend to so great a distance without any change. I could at no time see beyond a mile in any direction. Several flights of parrots flew over our heads to the north-west, at such an elevation as led me to suppose they would not pitch near us; but not a bird of any kind did we see in the desert itself. The day being exceedingly hot I stopped at one, rather from necessity than inclination, having travelled 12 or 14 miles. Both Joseph and myself had walked the whole way, and our legs were full of the sharp ends of the spinifex, but it was more in mercy to poor Punch than to ourselves that I pulled up, and held a consultation with Joseph as to the prudence of taking the cart any further, when it was decided that our doing so would infallibly lead to Punch's destruction. According to my calculation we were now in latitude 28 degrees 9 minutes 0 seconds or thereabouts. I had hoped to have advanced some 60 miles beyond this point, but now found that it would be impossible to do so. There was no indication of a change of country from any rising ground near us, and as it was still early in the day I resolved on pushing forward until I should feel satisfied that I had passed into the 27th parallel; my reason for this being a desire to know what the character of the country, so far in the interior from, and in the same parallel as Moreton Bay, would be. I had intended tethering Punch out, and walking with Joseph, but as he remonstrated with me, and it did not appear that my riding him would do the horse any harm, I mounted, though without a saddle, and taking our guns, with a quart of water, we commenced our journey. We moved rapidly on, as I was anxious to return to the cart whilst there was yet daylight, to enable us to keep our tracks, but no material change took place in the aspect of the country. We crossed sand-ridge after sand-ridge only to meet disappointment, and I had just decided on turning, when we saw at the distance of about a quarter of a mile from us, a little rounded hill some few feet higher than any we had ascended. It was to little purpose however that we extended our ramble to it. At about a mile from where we left the cart, we had crossed two or three small plains, if pieces of ground not a quarter of a mile long might be so termed, on which rhagodia bushes were growing, and I had hoped that this trifling change would have led to a greater, but as I have stated such did not prove to be the case. From the top of the little hill to which we walked (and from which we could see to a distance of six or eight miles, but it was difficult to judge how far the distant horizon was from us), there was no apparent change, but the brush in the distance was darker than that nearer to us, as if plains succeeded the sandy desert we had passed over. The whole landscape however was one of the most gloomy character, and I found myself obliged to turn from it in disappointment. As far as I could judge we passed about a mile beyond the 28th parallel. Our longitude by account only being 141 degrees 18 minutes E. The boiling point of water was 211 degrees 75/100. The evening had closed in before we got back to the cart, but our course was fortunately true, and having given poor Punch as liberal a draught as reason would justify we laid down to rest.

It was with great difficulty that we got our exhausted animal on, the following morning, although I again gave him as much water as I could spare. His docility under urgent want of food was astonishing. He was in fact troublesomely persevering, and walked round and round the cart and over us as we sat drinking our tea, smelling at the casks, and trying to get his nose into the bung holes, and implored for relief as much as an animal could do so by looks. Yet I am satisfied that a horse is not capable of strong attachment to man, but that he is a selfish brute, for however kindly he may be treated, where is the horse that will stay, like the dog, at the side of his master to the last, although hunger and thirst are upon him, and who, though carnivorous himself, will yet guard the hand that has fed him and expire upon its post? but, turn the horse loose at night, and where will you find him in the morning, though your life depended on his stay?

We reached the creek on the morning of the 14th, about half-past 10, having still a gallon of water remaining, that was literally better than the water in the muddy puddle from which we had originally taken it. I had thought it probable that we might find either Flood or Mr. Stuart awaiting our return, but not seeing any trace of recent feet I concluded they were in the ranges, and as the distance was too great for the horse to travel in a day, in his exhausted state, I pushed on at 4 p.m., and halted on the plains after having ridden about 6 miles. It was well indeed that I did so, for we did not gain the ranges until near sunset on the following day. Our exhausted horse could hardly drag one leg after the other, although he pricked up his ears and for a time quickened his pace as he fell into the track of the cart coming out. Both Mr. Stuart and Flood were astonished at the manner in which he had fallen off, nor did he ever after recover from the effects of that journey.

Mr. Stuart had completed his work with great accuracy, and had filled in the chart so much that he saved me a good deal of trouble. The 16th being Sunday, was a day of rest to us all, but one of excessive heat. Mr. Stuart had stationed himself in the bed of the creek, which sloped down on either side, and was partially shaded by gum-trees. The remains of what must have been a fine pond of water occupied the centre, and although it was thick and muddy it was as nectar to myself and Joseph. I was surprised and delighted to see that the creek had here so large a channel, and Flood, who had ridden down it a few miles, assured me that it promised very well. During my absence he had shot at and wounded one of the new pigeons, which afterwards reached my house alive.

I had intended proceeding to the eastward on my return from the north, but was prevented by the total failure of water. I therefore determined to trace the creek down, in the hope that it would favour my advance with the party into the interior. On the 17th, therefore, leaving Joseph to take care of Punch, I mounted my horse, and with Mr. Stuart and Flood, rode away to the westward. At first the creek held a course between S. W. and W. S. W. occasionally spreading over large flats, but always reforming and increasing in size. It ran through a flat valley, bounded by sand hills, against which it occasionally struck. The soil of the valley was not bad, but there was little or no vegetation upon it. At 15 miles we arrived at the junction of another creek from the south, and running down their united channels, at three miles found a small quantity of water in a deep and shaded hollow. It was but a scanty supply however, yet being cleaner and purer than any we had for some time seen, I stopped and had some tea. There was a native's hut on the bank, from which the owner must have fled at our approach; it was quite new, and afforded me shelter during our short halt. The fugitive had left some few valuables behind him, and amongst them a piece of red ochre. From this point the creek trended more to the north, spreading over numerous flats in times of flood, dividing its channels into many smaller ones, but always uniting into one at the extremity of the flats. At 21 miles the creek changed its course to 20 degrees to the west of north, and the country became more open and level. There were numerous traces of natives along its banks, and the remains of small fires on either side of it as far as we could see. It was, therefore, evident that at certain seasons of the year they resorted to it in some numbers, and I was then led to hope for a favourable change in the aspect of the country.

The gum-trees as we proceeded down the creek increased in size, and their foliage was of a vivid green. The bed of the creek was of pure sand, as well as the plains through which it ran, although there was alluvial soil partially mixed with the sand, and they had an abundance of grass upon them, the seed having been collected by the natives for food. At about 14 miles from the place where we stopped, the creek lost its sandy bed, and got one of tenacious clay. We soon afterwards pulled up for the night, at two pools of water that were still of considerable size, and on which there were several new ducks. They must, indeed, have been large deep ponds not many weeks before, but had now sunk several feet from their highest level, and, however valuable to a passing traveller, were useless in other respects, as our cattle would have drained them in three or four days. From this place also the natives appeared to have suddenly retreated, since there was a quantity of the Grass [Note 9. "Panicum laevinode" of Dr. Lindley.] spread out on the sloping bank of the creek to dry, or ripen in the sun. We could not, however, make out to what point they had gone. The heat during the day had been terrific, in so much that we were unable to keep our feet in the stirrups, and the horses perspired greatly, although never put out of a walk.

It was singular that we had no moisture on our skin; the reason why, perhaps, we were at that time much distressed by violent headaches.

At about a quarter of a mile below the ponds the creek spreads over an immense plain, almost as large as that of Cawndilla. A few trees marked its course to a certain distance, but beyond them all trace of its channel was lost, nor was it possible from the centre of the plain to judge at what point its waters escaped. The plain was surrounded by sand hills of about thirty feet in elevation, covered with low scrub. When we started in the morning we crossed it on a west course, but saw nothing to attract our notice from the tops of the sand hills. We then turned to the northward, and at about two miles entered a pretty, well wooded, but confined valley, in the bottom of which we once more found ourselves on the banks of the creek. Running it down in a north-west direction for seven miles, we were at length stopped by a bank of white saponaceous clay, crossing the valley like a wall. As we rode down the creek we observed large plains of red soil, precisely similar to the plains of the Darling, receding from it to a great distance on either side. These plains had deep water-worn gutters leading into the valley, so that I conclude the lateral floods it receives are as copious as those from the hills. On arriving at the bank running across the channel there were signs of eddying waters, as if those of the creek had been thrown back; but there was a low part in the bank over which it is evident they pour when they rise to its level. Mr. Stuart and Flood were the first to ascend the bank, and both simultaneously exclaimed that a change of country was at hand. On ascending the bank myself, I looked to the west and saw a beautiful park-like plain covered with grass, having groups of ornamental trees scattered over it. Whether it was the suddenness of the change, from barrenness and sterility to verdure and richness, I know not; but I thought, when I first gazed on it, that I never saw a more beautiful spot. It was, however, limited in extent, being not more than eight miles in circumference. Descending from the bank we crossed the plain on a south course. It was encircled by a line of gum-trees, between whose trunks the white bank of clay was visible. We crossed the plain amidst luxuriant grass; but the ground was rotten, and the whole area was evidently subject to flood. It was also clear that the creek exhausted itself in this extensive basin, from which, after the strictest search, we could find no outlet. On reaching the southern extremity of the plain, we crossed a broad bare channel, having a row of gum-trees on either side, and ascending a continuation of the clay bank, at once found ourselves in the scrub and amidst barrenness again; and at less than a mile, on a north-west course, beheld the sand ridges once more rising before us. I continued on this course, however, for eight miles, when I turned to the north-east, in order to cut any watercourse that might be in that direction, and to assure myself of the failure of the creek. After riding for five miles, I turned to the south, with the intention of ascending a sand hill at some distance, that swept the horizon in a semicircular form and was much higher than any others. Mr. Poole had informed me that he noticed a similar bank just before he made Lake Torrens, and I was anxious to see if it hid any similar basin from my view; but it did not. Sand hills of a similar kind succeeded it to the westward, but there was no change of country. Although we had travelled many miles, yet the zigzag course we had taken had been such that at this point we were not more than sixteen miles from the pools we had left in the morning; and as the day had been intolerably hot, and we had found no water, I determined on returning to them; but I was obliged to stop for a time for Flood, who complained of a violent pain in his head, occasioned by the intense heat. There was no shelter, however, for him under the miserable shrubs that surrounded us; but I stopped for half an hour, during which the horses stood oppressed by languor, and without the strength to lift up their heads, whilst their tails shook violently. Being anxious to get to water without delay, I took a straight line for the water-holes, and reached them at half-past 6 p.m., after an exposure, from morning till night, to as great a heat as man ever endured; but if the heat of this day was excessive, that of the succeeding one on which we returned to Joseph was still more so. We reached our destination at 3 p.m., as we started early, and on looking at the thermometer fixed behind a tree about five feet from the ground, I found the mercury standing at 132 degrees; on removing it into the sun it rose to 157 degrees. Only on one occasion, when Mr. Browne and I were returning from the north, had the heat approached to this; nor did I think that either men or animals could have lived under it.

On the 20th we again crossed the ranges, and after a journey of 32 miles, reached the lateral creek at their southern extremity, where I had rested on my former journey. There was more water in it than I expected to have found; but it was nevertheless much reduced, and in a week afterwards was probably dry. On the 21st we gained the Muddy Creek, but had to search for water where only a few days before there had been a pond of more than a third of a mile in length. Here, on the following day, I was obliged to leave Flood and Joseph, as the wheels of the cart had shrunk so much that we could not take it on. I should have gained the camp early in the day, but turned to the eastward to take bearings from some hills intermediate between Mount Poole and the Northern Range, as the distance between these points was too great. Our ride was over a singularly rugged country, of equally singular geological formation, nor can I doubt but that at one time or other there were currents sweeping over it in every direction. At one place that we passed there was a broad opening in a rocky but earth covered bank. Through this opening the eye surveyed a long plain, which at about two miles was bounded by low dark hills. Along this plain the channel of a stream was as distinctly marked in all its windings by small fragments of snow-white quartz as if water had been there instead. On either side the landscape was dark; but the effect was exceedingly striking and unusual. From the hills we ascended I obtained bearings to every station of consequence, and was quite glad that I had thus turned from my direct course. It was dark, the night indeed had closed in before we reached the tents; but I had the satisfaction to learn that both Mr. Poole and Mr. Browne were better, though not altogether well, and that every thing had gone on regularly during my absence. On the following morning, I sent Lewis and Jones with a dray to fetch the cart, and for the next three or four days was occupied charting the ground we had travelled over.

The greatest distance I went northwards on this occasion was to the 28th parallel, and about 27 {17 in published text} miles to the eastward of the 141st meridian. Our extreme point to the westward being lat. 28 degrees 56 minutes, and long. 140 degrees 54 minutes. From what I have said, the reader will be enabled to judge what prospects of success I had in either quarter; for myself I felt that I had nothing to hope either in the north or the east; for even if I had contemplated crossing eastward to the Darling, which was more than 250 miles from me, the dreadful nature of the country would have deterred me; but such an idea never entered my head—I could not, under existing circumstances, have justified such a measure to myself; having therefore failed in discovering any change of country, or the means of penetrating farther into it, I sat quietly down at my post, determined to abide the result, and to trust to the goodness of Providence to release me from prison when He thought best.



CHAPTER VII.



MIGRATION OF THE BIRDS—JOURNEY TO THE EASTWARD—FLOODED PLAINS—NATIVE FAMILY—PROCEED SOUTH, BUT FIND NO WATER—AGAIN TURN EASTWARD—STERILE COUNTRY—SALT LAGOON—DISTANT HILLS TO THE EAST—RETURN TO THE CAMP—INTENSE HEAT—OFFICERS ATTACKED BY SCURVY—JOURNEY TO THE WEST—NO WATER—FORCED TO RETURN—ILLNESS OF MR. POOLE—VISITED BY A NATIVE—SECOND JOURNEY TO THE EASTWARD—STORY OF THE NATIVE—KITES AND CROWS—ERECT A PYRAMID ON MOUNT POOLE—PREPARATIONS FOR A MOVE—INDICATIONS OF RAIN—INTENSE ANXIETY—HEAVY RAIN—MR. POOLE LEAVES WITH THE HOME RETURNING PARTY—BREAK UP THE DEPOT—MR. POOLE'S SUDDEN DEATH—HIS FUNERAL—PROGRESS WESTWARD—THE JERBOA—ESTABLISHMENT OF SECOND DEPOT—NATIVE GLUTTONY—DISTANT MOUNTAINS SEEN—REACH LAKE TORRENS—EXAMINATION OF THE COUNTRY N.W. OF IT—RETURN TO THE DEPOT—VISITED BY NATIVES—PREPARATIONS FOR DEPARTURE AGAIN INTO THE NORTHWEST INTERIOR.

The three last days of February were cool in comparison to the few preceding ones. The wind was from the south, and blew so heavily that I anticipated rough weather at the commencement of March. But that rough month set in with renewed heat, consequent on the wind returning to its old quarter the E.S.E. There were however some heavy clouds floating about, and from the closeness of the atmosphere I hoped that rain would have fallen, but all these favourable signs vanished, the thermometer ascending to more than 100 degrees.

When we first pitched our tents at the Depot the neighbourhood of it teemed with animal life. The parrots and paroquets flew up and down the creeks collecting their scattered thousands, and making the air resound with their cries. Pigeons congregated together; bitterns, cockatoos, and other birds; all collected round as preparatory to migrating. In attendance on these were a variety of the Accipitrine class, hawks of different kinds, making sad havoc amongst the smaller birds. About the period of my return from the north they all took their departure, and we were soon wholly deserted. We no longer heard the discordant shriek of the parrots, or the hoarse croaking note of the bittern. They all passed away simultaneously in a single day; the line of migration being directly to the N.W., from which quarter we had small flights of ducks and pelicans.

On the 5th of March I sent Mr. Browne to the S.W., to a small creek similar to that in the Rocky Glen and in the same range, in the hope that as we had seen fires in that direction he might fall in with the natives, but he was unsuccessful.

On the 6th I sent Flood to the eastward to see if he could recover the channel of the main creek on the other side of the plain on which Mr. Poole had lost it; he returned the following day, with information that at 25 miles from the Depot he had recovered it, and found more water than he could have supposed. The day of Flood's return was exceedingly hot and close, and in the evening we had distant thunder, but no rain.

In consequence of his report, I now determined on a journey to the eastward to ascertain the character of the country between us and the Darling, and left the camp with this intention on the 12th instant. I should have started earlier than that day had not Mr. Poole's illness prevented me, but as he rallied, I proceeded on my excursion, accompanied by Mr. Browne, Flood, and another of the men. We observed several puddles near our old camp on the main creek as we rode away, so that rain must have fallen there though not at the Depot. After passing the little conical hill of which I have already spoken, we traced the creek down until we saw plains of great extent before us, and as the creek trended to the south, skirting them on that side, we rode across them on a bearing of 322 degrees or N.W.1/2 N. They were 7 or 8 miles in breadth, and full 12 miles in length from east to west; their soil was rich and grassed in many places. At the extremity of the plains was a sand hill, close to which we again came on the creek, but without water, that which Flood had found being a little more to the eastward. Its channel at this place was deep, shaded, and moist, but very narrow. I was quite surprised when we came to the creek where Flood had been to find so much water; there was a serpentine sheet, of more than a quarter of a mile in length, which at first sight appeared to be as permanent as that at the Depot. The banks were high and composed of light rich alluvial soil, on which there were many new shrubs growing; the whole vegetation seemed to be more forward on this side of the hills than on that where the Depot was. Just as we halted we saw a small column of smoke rise up due south, and on looking in that direction observed some grassy plains spreading out like a boundless stubble, the grass being of the kind from which the natives collect seed for subsistence at this season of the year.

Early on the morning of the 14th March we again saw smoke in the same direction as before, but somewhat to the eastward, as if the grass or brush had been fired. In hopes that we should come upon some of the natives on the plains, through which the creek appeared to run, I determined on examining them before I proceeded to the eastward. We accordingly crossed its channel when we mounted our horses after breakfast, and rode at some little distance from it on a course of 80 degrees or nearly east, over flooded lands of somewhat sandy soil, covered with different kinds of grass, of which large heaps that had been thrashed out by the natives were piled up like hay cocks. At about two and a half miles we ascended a sandy rise of about fifty feet in elevation, whence we obtained bearings of the little conical hill at the western termination of the plain, and of the hill we had called the Black Hill. These bearings with our latitude made the distance we had travelled 33 miles. From the sand hill we overlooked plains of great extent to the N.E.; partly grassed and partly bare, but to the eastward there was low brush and a country similar to that we had traversed before the commencement of the sandy ridges. There were low sandy undulations to be seen; but of no great height. I now turned for the smoke on a bearing of 187 degrees, or nearly south, traversing a barren sandy level intermediate between the sand hill and the plains now upon our right, at length we entered upon the flooded ground, it was soft and yielding, and marked all over with the tracks of the natives; at 7 miles arrived at a large clump of gum-trees, and under them the channel of the creek which we had lost on the upper part of the plains was again visible. It was here very broad, but quite bare, except a belt of polygonum growing on either side, which had been set on fire, and was now in flames. We were fortunate enough soon after to find a long shallow sheet of water, in the bed of the creek, where we rested ourselves. It was singular enough that we should have pulled up close to the camp of some natives, all of whom had hidden themselves in the polygonum, except an old woman who was fast asleep, but who did not faint on seeing Mr. Browne close to her when she awoke. With this old lady we endeavoured to enter into conversation, and in order to allay her fears gave her five or six cockatoos we had shot, on which two other fair ones crept from behind the polygonum and advanced towards us. Finding that the men were out hunting, and only the women with the children were present, I determined to stop at this place until the following morning, we therefore unloaded the horses and allowed them to go and feed. A little before sunset, the two men returned to their families. They were much astonished at seeing us quietly seated before their huts, and approached us with some caution, but soon got reconciled to our presence. One of them had caught a talpero and a lizard, but the other had not killed any thing, so we gave him a dinner of mutton. The language of these people was a mixture between that of the river and hill tribes; but from what reason I am unable to say, although we understood their answers to general questions, we could not gather any lengthened information from them. I gave the elder native a blanket, and to the other a knife, with both of which they seemed highly delighted, and in return I suppose paid us the compliment of sending their wives to us as soon as it became dusk, but as we did not encourage their advances they left us after a short visit. The native who had killed the talpero, skinned it the moment he arrived in the camp, and, having first moistened them, stuffed the skin with the leaves of a plant of very astringent properties. All these natives were very poor, particularly the men, nor do I think that at this season of the year they can have much animal food of any kind to subsist on. Their principal food appeared to be seeds of various kinds, as of the box-tree, and grass seeds, which they pound into cakes and bake, together with different kinds of roots.

On the 15th we started at 7 a.m., and crossing at the head of the water, pursued a south course over extensive flooded plains, on which we again lost the channel of the creek, as, after winding round a little contiguous sand hill, it split into numberless branches; but although the plains hereabouts were well grassed, the soil was not so good as that on the plains above them. At six miles we ascended a sand hill, from which we could see to the extremity of the plain; but it had no apparent outlet excepting to the E.S.E. I therefore proceeded on that course for three miles, when we lost sight of all gum-trees, and found ourselves amongst scrub. Low bushes bounded the horizon all round, and hid the grassy plains from our view; but they were denser to the south and east than at any other point. Mount Lyell, the large hill south, bore 140 degrees to the east of north, distant between forty and fifty miles. A short time after we left the grassy flats we crossed the dry bed of a large lagoon, which had been seen by Mr. Poole on a bearing of 77 degrees from the Magnetic Hill. In the richer soil, a plant with round, striped fruit upon it, of very bitter taste, a species of cucumber, was growing. We next proceeded to the eastward, and surveying the country from higher ground, observed that the creek had no outlet from the plains, and that it could not but terminate on them.

As I had no object in a prolonged journey to the south, I turned back from this station, and retracing my steps to the water where we had left the natives, reached it at half-past six. All our friends were still there; we had, therefore, the pleasure of passing another afternoon with them, during which they were joined by two other natives, with their families, who had been driven in from the south, like ourselves, by the want of water. They assured us that all the water in that quarter had disappeared, "that the sun had taken it," and that we should not find a drop to the eastward, where I told them I was going. All these men, excepting one, had been circumcised. The single exception had the left fore-tooth of his upper jaw extracted, and I therefore concluded that he belonged to a different tribe. I had hoped to have seen many more natives in this locality; but it struck me, from what I observed, that they were dispersed at the different water-holes, there being no one locality capable of supporting any number.

The low and flooded track I have been describing must be dreadfully cold during the winter season, and the natives, who are wholly unprovided for inclemency of any kind, must suffer greatly from exposure; but at this time the temperature still continued very high, and the constant appearance of the deep purple tint opposite to the rising and setting sun seemed to indicate a continuance of it.

As our horses had had some long journeys for the last three days, we merely returned to our first bivouac on the creek, when we left the natives, with whom we parted on very good terms, and a promise on their part to come and see us. On the 17th started at quarter-past six for the eastward, with as much water as we could carry in the cart, as from the accounts of the natives we scarcely hoped to find any. For the first five miles we kept a course rather to the north of east, nearly E.N.E. indeed, to round some sand-hills we should otherwise have been obliged to cross. There were very extensive plains to our left, on which water must lie during winter; but their soil was not good, or the vegetation thick upon them. We could just see the points of the northern flat-topped ranges beyond them. At five miles we turned due east, and crossed several small plains, separated by sandy undulations, not high enough to be termed ridges; the country, both to the south and east, appearing to be extremely low. At about fifteen miles, just as we were ascending a sand hill, Mr. Browne caught sight of a native stealing through the brush, after whom he rode; but the black observing him, ran away. On this Mr. Browne called out to him, when he stopped; but the horse happening to neigh at the moment, the poor fellow took to his heels, and secreted himself so adroitly, that we could not find him. He must, indeed, have been terribly alarmed at the uncouth sound he heard.

A short time before our adventure with the native we had seen three pelicans coming from the north. They kept very low to the ground, and wheeled along in circles in a very remarkable manner, as if they had just risen from water; but at length they soared upwards, and flew straight for the lagoon where we had left the natives. With the exception of these three birds, no other was to be seen in those dreary regions. Both Mr. Browne and I, however, rode over a snake, but our horses fortunately escaped being bitten; this animal had seized a mouse, which it let go on being disturbed, and crept into a hole; it was very pretty, being of a bright yellow colour with brown specks. Arriving at the termination of the sand hills, we looked down upon an immense shallow basin, extending to the north and south-east further than the range of vision, which must, I should imagine, be wholly impassable during the rainy season. There was scarcely any vegetation, a proof, it struck me, that it retains water on its surface till the summer is so advanced that the sun's rays are too powerful for any plants that may spring up, or that the heat bakes the soil so that nothing can force itself through. There was little, if any grass to be seen; but the mesembryanthemum reappeared upon it, with other salsolaceous plants. The former was of a new variety, with flowers on a long slender stalk, heaps of which had been gathered by the natives for the seed. Of the timber of these regions there was none; a few gum-trees near the creeks, with box-trees on the flats, and a few stunted acacia and hakea on the small hills, constituted almost the whole. Water boiled on this plain at 212 degrees; that is to say at our camp were we slept, about two miles advanced into it, but the plain extended about five miles further to the eastward. After crossing this on the following morning, we traversed a country which Mr. Browne informed me was very similar to that near Lake Torrens. It consisted of sand banks, or drifts, with large bare patches at intervals: the whole bearing testimony to the violence of the rains that must sometimes deluge it. We then traversed a succession of flats (I call them so because they did not deserve the name of plains) separated from each other by patches of red sand and clay, that were not more than a foot and a half above the surface of the flats. At nine miles the country became covered with low scrub, and we soon after passed the dry bed of a lagoon, about a mile in circumference, on which there was a coating of salt and gypsum resting on soft black mud. About a mile from this we passed a new tree, similar to one we had seen on the Cawndilla plain. From this point the land imperceptibly rose, until at length we found ourselves on some sandy elevations thickly covered with scrub of acacia, almost all dead, but there was a good deal of grass around them, and the spot might at another season, and if the trees had been in leaf, have looked pretty. We pushed through this scrub, the soil being a bright red sand for nine miles, when we suddenly found ourselves at the base of a small stony hill, of about fifty feet in height. From the summit we overlooked the region round about. To the eastward, as a medium point, it was covered with a dense scrub, that extended to the base of a range of hills, distant about 33 miles, the extremities of which bore 71 degrees and 152 degrees respectively from us. But although the country under them was covered with brush, the hills appeared to be clear and denuded of brushes of any kind. Our position here was about 138 miles from the Darling, and about 97 from the Depot. My object in this excursion had been to ascertain the characteristic of the country between us and the Darling, but I did not think it necessary to run any risks with my horses, by pushing on for the hills, as I could not have reached them until late the following day, when in the event of not finding water, their fate would have been sealed; for we could not have returned with them to the creek. They had already been two days without, if I except the little we had spared them from the casks. I had deemed it prudent to send Joseph and Lewis back to the creek for a fresh supply, with orders to return and meet at a certain point, and there to await our arrival, for without this supply I felt satisfied we should have great difficulty as it was in getting our animals back to the creek. We descended from the hill therefore to some green looking trees, of a foliage new to me, to rest for an hour before we turned back again. There were neither flowers or fruit on the trees, but from their leaf and habit, I took them to be a species of the Juglans. At sunset we mounted our horses and travelled to the edge of the acacia scrub to give our horses some of the grass, and halted in it for the night, but started early on the following morning to meet Joseph. We reached the appointed place, about 10, but not finding him there continued to journey onwards, and at five miles met him. We then stopped and gave the horses 12 gallons of water each, after which we tethered them out, but they were so restless that I determined to mount them, and pushing on reached the creek at half-past 1, a.m. The animals requiring rest I remained stationary the next day, and was myself glad to keep in the shade, not that the day was particularly hot, but because I began to feel the effects of constant exposure. Having expressed some opinion, however, that there might have been water to the north of us, in the direction whence the pelicans came, Mr. Browne volunteered to ride out, and accordingly with Flood left me about 10, but returned late in the afternoon without having found any. He ascertained that the creek I had sent Flood to trace when Mr. Stuart went to sketch in the ranges, terminated in the barren plain we had crossed, and such, the reader will observe, is the general termination of all the creeks of these singular and depressed regions.

We returned to the camp on the 21st, and from that period to the end of the month I remained stationary, employed in various ways. On the 24th and 29th we took different sets of lunars, which gave our longitude as before, nearly 141 degrees 29 minutes, the variation of the compass being 5 degrees 14 minutes East.

The month of April set in without any indication of a change in the weather. It appeared as if the flood gates of Heaven were closed upon us for ever. We now began to feel the effects of disappointment, and watched the sky with extreme anxiety, inso-much that the least cloud raised all our hopes. The men were employed in various ways to keep them in health. We planted seeds in the bed of the creek, but the sun burnt them to cinders the moment they appeared above the ground. On the evening of the 3rd there was distant thunder, and heavy clouds to the westward. I thought it might have been that some shower had approached sufficiently near for me to benefit by the surface water it would have left to push towards Lake Torrens, and therefore mounted my horse and rode away to the westward on the 4th, but returned on the night of the 7th in disappointment. Time rolled on fast, and still we were unable to stir. Mr. Piesse, who took great delight in strolling out with my gun, occasionally shot a new bird.

On the 4th the wind blew strong from the south; but although the air was cooled, no rain fell, nor indeed was there any likelihood of rain with the wind in that quarter. Still as this was the first decided shift from the points to which it had kept so steadily, we augured good from it. On the 7th a very bright meteor was seen to burst in the south-east quarter of the heavens; crossing the sky with a long train of light, and in exploding seemed to form numerous stars. Whether it was fancy or not we thought the temperature cooled down from this period. On this day also we had a change of moon, but neither produced a variation of wind or weather of any immediate benefit to us. On the 14th we tried to ascertain the dew point, but failed, as in previous instances. The thermometer in our underground room stood at 78 degrees of Farenheit, but we could not reduce the moist bulb below 49 degrees; nor was I surprised at this, considering we had not had rain for nearly four months, and that during our stay at the Depot we had never experienced a dew. The ground was thoroughly heated to the depth of three or four feet, and the tremendous heat that prevailed had parched vegetation and drawn moisture from everything. In an air so rarified, and an atmosphere so dry, it was hardly to be expected that any experiment upon it would be attended with its usual results, or that the particles of moisture so far separated, could be condensed by ordinary methods. The mean of the thermometer for the months of December, January, and February, had been 101 degrees, 104 degrees, and 101 degrees respectively in the shade. Under its effects every screw in our boxes had been drawn, and the horn handles of our instruments, as well as our combs, were split into fine laminae. The lead dropped out of our pencils, our signal rockets were entirely spoiled; our hair, as well as the wool on the sheep, ceased to grow, and our nails had become as brittle as glass. The flour lost more than eight per cent of its original weight, and the other provisions in a still greater proportion. The bran in which our bacon had been packed, was perfectly saturated, and weighed almost as heavy as the meat; we were obliged to bury our wax candles; a bottle of citric acid in Mr. Browne's box became fluid, and escaping, burnt a quantity of his linen; and we found it difficult to write or draw, so rapidly did the fluid dry in our pens and brushes. It was happy for us, therefore, that a cooler season set in, otherwise I do not think that many of us could much longer have survived. But, although it might be said that the intense heat of the summer had passed, there still were intervals of most oppressive weather.