BOOK 3.
CHAPTER 3.1. FROM 13TH MARCH TO 1ST APRIL, 1875.
Leave Fowlers Bay.
Camels and horses.
A great plain.
A black romance.
An oasis.
Youldeh.
Old Jimmy.
Cockata blacks.
In concealment.
Flies, ants, and heat.
A line of waters to the east.
Leave depot.
The camels.
Slow progress.
Lose a horse loaded with water.
Tinkle of a bell.
Chimpering.
Heavy sand-dunes.
Astray in the wilds.
Pylebung.
A native dam.
Inhuman mutilations.
Mowling and Whitegin.
The scrubs.
Wynbring.
A conspicuous mountain.
A native family.
March flies.
While at Fowler’s Bay I had heard of a native watering-place called Youldeh, that was known to one or two white people, and I found that it lay about 130 miles inland, in a north-north-westerly direction; my object now being to push across to Beltana to the eastwards and endeavour to find a good travelling route by which I could bring my projected large camel expedition back to the water at Youldeh, as a starting depot for the west.
Leaving the bay on Saturday, the 13th of March, 1875, I had a strong party with me as far as Youldeh. My second in command, Mr. Roberts, Mr. Thomas Richards, police trooper—who, having previously visited Youldeh, was going to show me its whereabouts—and Mr. George Murray; I had with me also another white man, Peter Nicholls, who was my cook, one old black fellow and two young ones. The old man and one young fellow went on, one day in advance and led the