It was most mysterious that he had not fallen in with our line of route which was a plain, broad road since the passage of the carts; and had a direction due north and south for ten miles.  The last time he had been seen was twelve miles back, or about two miles from the dry bed of the creek (since named Bullock creek) where I changed the direction from north-west by compass to due north, that I might sooner reach the Bogan, for the sake of water.  It was probable that in following my marked trees without much attention he had not observed the turn I took there, and that continuing in the same direction beyond the creek he had therefore lost them, and had proceeded too far to the westward.  This was the more likely as the dry creek was on the eastward of our line; where, had he gone that way, he must have found our cattle-tracks, or met with the cattle.  I therefore determined to examine myself the whole country westward of our line for twelve miles back.  I sent The Doctor and Murray west by compass six miles, with orders to return in a south-east direction till they intersected the route, and then return along it; and I sent two other men back along the route in case our missing friend might have been coming on in a weakly state that way.  All three parties carried water and provisions.  I proceeded myself with two men on horseback, first, seven miles in a south-west direction, which brought me into the line Mr. Cunningham might have followed, supposing he had continued north-west.  The country I traversed consisted of small plains and alternate patches of dense casuarina scrubs, and open forest land.

I seldom saw to less distance about me than from one to two miles, or at least as far as that in some one direction.  We continued to cooey frequently, and the two men were ordered to look on the ground for a horse’s track.

In the centre of a small plain, where I changed my direction to the south-east, I set up a small stick with a piece of paper fixed in it, containing the following words: 

Dear Cunningham,

These are my horse’s tracks, follow them backwards, they will lead you to our camp, which is north-east of you.

T.L.  Mitchell.

Having proceeded in the same manner seven miles to the south-east I came upon our route where it crossed Bullock creek, and there I found the two men who had been sent from the camp.

We then continued our search back along the west side of our route, the party, which now consisted of five, spreading so as to keep abreast at about 200 yards from each other, one being on the road.

NO TRACES TO BE SEEN.

We thus ascertained that no track of Mr. Cunningham’s horse or of himself appeared on the soft parts of our road; and although we retraced our steps thus to where Murray, one of the men, said he saw Mr. Cunningham the last time with the party, no traces could be found of him or his horse.  A kangaroo dog was also missing, and supposed to be with him.