On the 27th of May, Wills went forward alone to visit the depot and deposit there the journals and a note stating their condition.  He reached there on the 30th and wrote in his diary that “No traces of anyone, except blacks have been here since we left.”

But while they were absent down the creek, Brahe and Wright had visited the place, and finding no sign of their return, and the cache apparently untouched, had ridden away concluding that they had not yet come back.  This was the note that Wills left:—­

May 30th, 1861.  We have been unable to leave the creek.  Both camels are dead.  Burke and King are down on the lower part of the creek.  I am about to return to them, when we shall probably all come up here.  We are trying to live the best way we can, like the blacks, but we find it hard work.  Our clothes are going fast to pieces; send provisions and clothes as soon as possible.

The depot party having left contrary to instructions has put us into this fix.  I have deposited some of my journals here for fear of accidents.

William J. Wills.

Having done this, and once more carefully concealed all traces of the cache having been disturbed, Wills rejoined his companions in misfortune.  Some friendly natives fed him on his way back to them.

During the intercourse that of necessity they had with the natives along Cooper’s Creek, they had noticed the extensive use made by them of the seeds of the nardoo plant; but for a long time they had been unable to find this plant, nor would the blacks show it to them.  At last King accidentally found it, and by its aid they managed to prolong their lives.  But the seeds had to be gathered, cleaned, pounded and cooked; and in comparison with all this labour the nourishment afforded by the cakes was very slight.  An occasional crow or hawk was shot, and a little fish now and then begged from the natives.  As they were sinking rapidly, it was at last decided that Burke and King should go up the creek and endeavour to find the main camp of the natives and obtain food from them.  Wills, who was now so weak as to be unable to move, was left lying under some boughs, with an eight days’ supply of nardoo and water, the others trusting that within that period they would have returned to him.

On the 26th of June the two men started, and poor Wills was left to meet death alone.  By the entries in his diary, which he kept written up as long as his strength remained, he evidently retained consciousness almost to the last.  So exhausted was he that death must have come to him as a merciful release from the pain of living.  His last entries, although giving evidence of fading faculties, are almost cheerful.  He jocularly alludes to himself as Micawber, waiting for something to turn up.  But it is evident that he had given up hope, and was waiting for death’s approach, calm and resigned, without fear, like a good and gallant man.