and must have been under the delusion that they were running north, and that the main line of tracks must be on his right, instead of his left hand, and whether he made any mistake or not in steering by the compass, it is impossible to say, but instead of going east as he should, he actually went south, or very near it.  In consequence of small reptiles, such as lizards, always scratching over all horse tracks in this region during the night, and also the slight rain we had the other morning, combined with wind, the shifting nature of the sandy soil, and the thick and bushy spinifex, we could make but poor headway in following the single track, and it was only by one of us walking while the other brought on the horses, that we could keep the track at all.  Although we did not halt during the whole day, we had not been able to track him by night more than thirteen miles.  Up to this point there was evidently no diminution of the powers of the animal he bestrode.  We camped upon the tracks the fourth night without water, it being impossible to follow in the moonlight.  We gave our horses all our remaining stock of water.

We began to see that our chance of finding the remains of our lost companion was very slight.  I was sorry to think that the unfortunate man’s last sensible moments must have been embittered by the thought that, as he had lost himself in the capacity of a messenger for my relief, I too must necessarily fall a victim to his mishap.

I called this terrible region that lies between the Rawlinson Range and the next permanent water that may eventually be found to the west, Gibson’s Desert, after this first white victim to its horrors.

Gibson, having had my horse, rode away in my saddle with my field glasses attached; but everything was gone—­man and horse alike swallowed in this remorseless desert.  The weather was cool at night, even cold, for which I was most thankful, or we could not have remained so long away from water.  We consulted together, and could only agree that unless we came across Gibson’s remains by mid-day, we must of necessity retreat, otherwise it would be at the loss of fresh lives, human and equine, for as he was mounted on so excellent an animal as the Fair Maid, on account of whose excellence I had chosen her to ride, it seemed quite evident that this noble creature had carried him only too well, and had been literally ridden to death, having carried her rider too far from water ever to return, even if he had known where it lay.  What actual distance she had carried him, of course it was impossible to say; going so persistently in the wrong direction, he was simply hastening on to perish.  I felt more at ease walking along the track than riding.  We could only go slowly, mile after mile, rising sand-ridge after sand-ridge, until twelve o’clock, not having been able to trace him more than seven or eight miles since morning.  We could not reach the Circus by night, for we were nearly fifty miles from it, and in all probability