might almost sink, were it not for the thick growth of rushes.  The water appears to flow over several acres of ground, appearing and disappearing in places.  The moment a small space was cleared of the rushes, it became evident that the water was perpetually flowing, and we stood on rushes over our ankles in black soil.  Gibson dug a small tank, and the water soon cleared for itself a beautiful little crystal basin of the purest liquid, much more delicious and wholesome than the half brackish water in the bed of the creek.  These springs have their origin at the foot of the hill on the eastern side of this pass, and percolate into the creek-bed, where the water becomes impregnated with salt or soda.  The water in the open holes in the creek-bed is always running; I thought the supply came from up the creek—­now, however, I find it comes from these fresh-water springs.  I branded a tree in this pass E. Giles with date.

On the 25th March the plump but old and doomed Terrible Billy confidingly came to water at eleven o’clock at night.  He took his last drink, and was led a captive to the camp, where he was tied up all night.  The old creature looked remarkably well, and when tied up close to the smoke-house—­innocent, unsuspecting creature of what the craft and subtilty of the devil or man might work against him—­he had begun to eat a bunch or two of grass, when a rifle bullet crashing through his forehead terminated his existence.  There was some little fat about him; it took some time to cut up the meat into strips, which were hung on sticks and placed in tiers in the pyramidal smoke-house.

We had a fine supper of horse-steaks, which we relished amazingly.  Terrible Billy tasted much better than the cob we had killed at Elder’s Creek.  What fat there was on the inside was very yellow, and so soft it would not harden at all.  With a very fat horse a salvage of fat might be got on portions of the meat, but nearly every particle of the fat drips into oil.  The smoke-house is now the object of our solicitude; a column of smoke ascends from the immolated Billy night and day.  Our continual smoke induced some natives to make their appearance, but they kept at a very respectful distance, coming no nearer than the summit of the hills, on either side of the pass, from whence they had a good bird’s-eye view of our proceedings.  They saluted us with a few cheers, i.e. groans, as they watched us from their observatory.

The weather is now beautifully cool, fine, and clear.  We had now finished smoking Terrible Billy who still maintained his name, for he was terribly tough.  I intended to make an attempt to push westward from the end of this range, and all we required was the horses to carry us away; but getting them was not the easiest thing in the world, for they were all running loose.  Although they have to come to the pass to get water, there is water for more than a mile, and some come sneaking quietly down without