I felt sure that if the men persisted in their resolution of moving slowly a lingering and dreadful death awaited us all; yet my opinion was a solitary one.  Mr. Walker had in many instances plainly and publicly shown that he on this point differed with me; and he was a medical man, and one who certainly never shrank from any danger or toil which he thought it his duty to encounter.  The most therefore I could say against those who were opposed to my system of moving was that I conceived them to be guilty of a grievous error in judgment; but it was not until our separate opinions had been tested by the future that it could be definitely pronounced who was right.  Nevertheless those who have been much with men compelled to make long marches cannot fail to have remarked how readily and foolishly they find excuses to enable them to obtain a halt, and such persons would probably have agreed with me in suspecting that natural indolence of disposition, strengthened by fatigue and privation, might induce men to adopt, without a very strict investigation, any opinion falling in with their immediate feelings of feebleness.

Being firmly convinced that these men intended to pursue a plan of operations which would entail great misery both upon themselves and the others, I considered that I ought undoubtedly to endeavour to save them from the danger which I foresaw impending over them; and this could only be accomplished by my making forced marches to Perth and sending out supplies to meet them before they were reduced to the last extremities.  Had I foreseen a week ago that I should be compelled eventually to adopt such a step I would then have taken with me all such as were willing to march and have left the others; but this time had passed.  My movement to Perth must now be accomplished with the greatest expedition or it would be useless; and to take anyone with me who was so much reduced as to have delayed, impeded, or perhaps altogether to have arrested our progress, would have sacrificed the lives of all.

CHAPTER 3.  FROM WATER PEAK TO GAIRDNER’S RANGE.

Return to the party.

April 10.

The morning’s dawn found us in the vicinity of our comrades, and, just as the thick grey mists began heavily to ascend from the low plains on which I had left the party, we emerged from the bush upon the native path down which we had travelled the preceding evening; here I turned northward, and a few minutes more placed the party in our view.  Some of them were missing.  I felt alarmed lest a new misfortune had happened and, hurrying on, eagerly asked where they were.  The answer given will describe more truly their position than the most minute detail could do; it was:  “They are just gone into the bush to suck grass, Sir.”  This semblance of extreme thirst must however, I suspect, have been in some measure a piece of affectation upon their parts, for upon the morning of the day before they had had a plentiful supply of water:  whether however their extreme sufferings were true or feigned mattered not, we fully supplied their wants; and then I immediately ordered preparations to be made for our further progress.