While at this water we occasionally saw hawks, crows, corellas, a pink-feathered kind of cockatoo, and black magpies, which in some parts of the country are also called mutton birds, and pigeons.  One day Peter Nicholls shot a queer kind of carrion bird, not so large as a crow, although its wings were as long.  It had the peculiar dancing hop of the crow, its plumage was of a dark slate colour, with whitish tips to the wings, its beak was similar to a crow’s.

We had now been at this depot for nine days, and on the 6th of October we left it behind to the eastward, as we had done all the other resting places we had found.  I desired to go as straight as possible for Mount Churchman.  Its position by the chart is in latitude 29 degrees 58’, and longitude 118 degrees.  Straight lines on a map and straight lines through dense scrubs are, however, totally different, and, go as straight as we could, we must make it many miles farther than its distance showed by the chart.

CHAPTER 4.3.  FROM 6TH TO 18TH OCTOBER, 1875.

Depart for Mount Churchman. 
Yellow-barked trees. 
Wallaby traps. 
Sight a low hill. 
Several salt lakes. 
Another hill. 
Camels bogged. 
Natives’ smoke. 
Bare rocks. 
Grass-trees. 
Clayey and grassy ground. 
Dryness of the region. 
Another mass of bare rocks. 
A pretty place. 
Crows and native foot-tracks. 
Tommy finds a well. 
Then another. 
Alone on the rocks. 
Voices of the angels. 
Women coming for water. 
First natives seen. 
Arrival of the party. 
Camels very thirsty but soon watered. 
Two hundred miles of desert. 
Natives come to the camp. 
Splendid herbage. 
A romantic spot. 
More natives arrive. 
Native ornaments. 
A mouthpiece. 
Cold night. 
Thermometer 32 degrees. 
Animals’ tracks. 
Natives arrive for breakfast. 
Inspection of native encampment. 
Old implements of white men in the camp. 
A lame camel. 
Ularring. 
A little girl. 
Dislikes a looking-glass. 
A quiet and peaceful camp. 
A delightful oasis. 
Death and danger lurking near. 
Scouts and spies. 
A furious attack. 
Personal foe. 
Dispersion of the enemy. 
A child’s warning. 
Keep a watch. 
Silence at night. 
Howls and screams in the morning. 
The Temple of Nature. 
Reflections. 
Natives seen no more.

On the 6th October, as I have said, we departed, and at once entered into the second division of Her Majesty Queen Victoria’s great Australian desert.  That night we camped at the place where Mr. Tietkens and Alec Ross, albeit a short measure for twenty-five miles, had left the two troughs full of water.  I had instructed them to travel west-north-west.  The country of course was all scrubs and sandhills.  We saw a few currajong-trees during our day’s stage, and where we camped there were a number of