A fierce, warm south wind blew all night; the ants were dreadful, and would not allow me to sleep for a minute, though the others did not seem to feel them.  The range still continued to the west, and other creeks were visible in that direction, but I decided to return to the last water I had seen—­that is to say, at the Gorge of Tarns.  Not being able to sleep, I went after the horses long before daylight, and found they had wandered a terrible distance, although short-hobbled.  I soon found out the cause, for one horse had been loose all night with his pack on, and had consequently led the others a fine jaunt.  When all were found and packed, we returned to the gorge which, in consequence of its having so many splendid basins of deep water, I named as before said.  On arriving, we fixed our camp close up to the large basins, but the horses could water a mile below, where some tea-tree grew, and where the water reappeared upon the surface after sinking beneath it.  There was some good feed here for the horses, but it was over a very limited area.

We had a swim in the fine rocky tarn, and we were delighted to be joined by Gibson in our ablutions.  Could the bottom of this pool be cleared of the loose blocks of stone, gravel, and sand, it would doubtless be found of very great depth; but the rains and floods of ages have nearly filled it with stones, loosened from the upper rocks, and it is only in the crevices between the rocks at the bottom that one can discover the depth to be greater than seven feet.  Shade here is very scarce when the sun is overhead, except up around the large basin, where there are caves and overhanging rocky ledges, under which we sit, and over which the splashing waters from their sources above fall into the tarn below.

The view from the top of the range was very similar to that from Mount Buttfield, only that now to the south we could see an horizon of scrub.  To the north, the natives were burning the spinifex, and this produced such a haze that no definite view could be obtained.  Other portions of the range quite prevented a western view.  The altitude of this summit was a little over 3000 feet above sea level.

Not being able to glean any farther information about the surrounding country, we (con)descended to work in the shady caves, swimming and working alternately during the day, for we had plenty of the ever-recurring tasks to do, namely, the repairing of pack-bags and clothes, and the unravelling of canvas for twine.

The first night we passed here was close and hot.  We had so much of sewing to do that we set to work with a will; our clothes also require as much attention as the pack-bags and pack-saddles.  No one could conceive the amount of tearing and patching that is for ever going on; could either a friend or stranger see us in our present garb, our appearance would scarcely be thought even picturesque; for a more patched and ragged set of tatterdemalions it would be difficult