Jimmy Andrews had his revolver in his hand, Mr. Tietkens and Gibson being away.  On inquiring of Jimmy the cause of the reports and the reason of his having his revolver in his hand, he replied that he thought Mr. Tietkens was shooting the blacks, and he had determined to slaughter his share if they attacked him.  Mr. Tietkens had fired at some wallabies, which, however, did not appear at dinner.  On arrival at the new well, we had a vast amount of work to perform, and only three or four horses got water by night.

I told Mr. Tietkens not to work himself to death, as I would retreat in the morning to where there was water, but he persisted in working away by himself in the night, and was actually able to water all the horses in the morning.  Labor omnia vincit.  Last night there was a heavy fall of dew, thermometer 28 degrees, but no frost or ice.  I was delighted to turn my back upon this wretched place.

The object of our present line was to reach the new hills seen from the Anthony Range.  Three of them appeared higher than, and isolated from, the others.  They now bore west of us—­at least they should have done so, and I hoped they did, for in such thick scrubs it was quite impossible to see them.  No matter for that, we steered west for them and traversed a region of dense scrubs.  I was compelled to ride in advance with a bell on my stirrup to enable the others to hear which way to come.  In seventeen miles we struck a small gum creek without water, but there was good herbage.  In the scrubs to-day we saw a native pheasant’s nest, the Leipoa ocellata of Gould, but there were no eggs in it.  This bird is known by different names in different parts of Australia.  On the eastern half of the continent it is usually called the Lowan, while in Western Australia it is known as the Gnow; both I believe are native names.  Another cold night, thermometer 26 degrees, with a slight hoar frost.  Moving on still west through scrubs, but not so thick as yesterday, some beautiful and open ground was met till we reached the foot of some low ridges.

From the top of one of these, we had before us a most charming view, red ridges of extraordinary shapes and appearance being tossed up in all directions, with the slopes of the soil, from whence they seemed to spring, rising gently, and with verdure clad in a garment of grass whose skirts were fringed with flowers to their feet.  These slopes were beautifully bedecked with flowers of the most varied hues, throwing a magic charm over the entire scene.  Vast bare red

   “Rocks piled on rocks stupendous hurled,
    Like fragments of an earlier world,”