We had great difficulty in driving the horses past the Cups, as the poor creatures having got water there once, supposed it always existed there.  Some of these little indents held only a few pints of water, others a few quarts, and the largest only a few gallons.  Early the second day we got back, but we had left so little water behind us, that we found it nearly all gone.  Six days having elapsed makes a wonderful difference in water that is already inclined to depart with such evaporation as is always going on in this region.  We now went to where Mr. Tietkens had found another place, and he and Gibson took the shovel to open it out, while Jimmy and I unpacked the horses.  Here Jimmy Andrews set fire to the spinifex close to all our packs and saddles, and a strong hot wind blowing, soon placed all our belongings in the most terrible jeopardy.  The grass was dry and thick, and the fire raged around us in a terrific manner; guns and rifles, riding-and pack-saddles were surrounded by flames in a moment.  We ran and halloed and turned back, and frantically threw anything we could catch hold of on to the ground already burnt.  Upsetting a couple of packs, we got the bags to dash out the flames, and it was only by the most desperate exertions we saved nearly everything.  The instant a thing was lifted, the grass under it seemed to catch fire spontaneously; I was on fire, Jimmy was on fire, my brains were in a fiery, whirling blaze; and what with the heat, dust, smoke, ashes, and wind, I thought I must be suddenly translated to Pandemonium.  Our appearance also was most satanic, for we were both as black as demons.

There was no shade; we hadn’t a drop of water; and without speaking a word, off we went up the gully to try and get a drink; there was only just enough thick fluid for us, the horses standing disconsolately round.  The day was hot, the thermometer marked 105 degrees.  There was not sufficient water here for the horses, and I decided, as we had not actually dug at our old camp, to return there and do so.  This we did, and obtained a sufficiency at last.  We were enabled to keep the camp here for a few days, while Mr. Tietkens and I tried to find a more northerly route to the west.  Leaving Gibson and Jimmy behind, we took three horses and steered away for the north.  Our route on this trip led us into the most miserable country, dry ridges and spinifex, sandhills and scrubs, which rolled along in undulations of several miles apart.  We could get no water, and camped after a day’s journey of forty miles.

Though the day had been very hot, the night became suddenly cool.  In the morning of the 28th of October, at five miles we arrived at a scrubby sand ridge, and obtained a most displeasing view of the country further north.  The surface seemed more depressed, but entirely filled up with dense scrubs, with another ridge similar to the one we were on bounding the view; we reached it in about eight miles.  The view we then got was precisely similar to that