The squall served to clear the air, and was succeeded by a cool breeze from the north-west.  The thermometer down to 87 degrees.

Thirsty flat.

Yet cool, as comparatively speaking, the nights are here, still I could not but remark that the ground never became so; and this I imagine to be one of the principal causes of that fatigue from which some of our party suffered so much:  during my watches I invariably noticed some poor fellow or another vainly trying to secure the rest of which he stood so much in need:  rolling with restless anxiety from side to side, and sometimes in absolute despair, starting up on his feet:  neither could I fail to note the wearying effect these broken slumbers produced, symptoms of which showed themselves more plainly each morning.

Having provided myself with the means of calculating the latitude, I worked the observations I had taken during the night.  It placed the spot of our bivouac in 15 degrees 29 minutes South.  We estimated our distance from the boats, having carefully timed ourselves each march, at 23 miles; 10 in an east, general direction, and 13 North-East by North.

November 10.

We pushed onwards in the cool of the morning, taking a South 20 degrees West direction, for three miles, crossing the eastern part of the flat to which we yesterday gave the name of Thirsty Flat, and found the soil a light mould, covered with long dry grass.  This brought us to a bend in the river, trending in rather a tortuous manner east, and passing through a wide valley, with table ranges, varying from 5 to 600 feet on either side.  Towards their summits there were perpendicular cliffs of some 30 or 40 feet, similar to the high land of Sea Range.  The country just here was so thickly wooded that I was obliged to climb a tree in order to get the bearings.  We noticed some very curious black horizontal streaks on the hills in our immediate vicinity.  We crossed the river, or rather over its bed—­a patch of stones—­and found some shells of the water-tortoise at the remains of a native fire on the bank:  we named the reach Tortoise Reach, in consequence.  Here too Mr. Bynoe added some rare and beautiful specimens of finches to his collection.

Enervating effect of the great heat.

The cool north-west wind had now deserted us, and though yet scarcely nine o’clock A.M. the thermometer stood at 105 degrees.  I had again the good fortune to shoot a kangaroo:  it was a long cross-shot, the animal going at speed.  Our route now lay across a barren stony plain, of which the vegetation it might once have boasted had been burnt off:  the blackened ground, heated by the fierce rays of the sun, seemed still to us on fire.  In crossing a creek which lay in our path, and which we managed to do by means of a fallen tree, Mr. Forsyth showed symptoms of being struck with the sun, but a little water, which I was happy enough to get from the creek,