a long hole of brine.  There was plenty of good grass on the river flat; and we got some tolerably good water where we fixed our camp.  When we had finished our evening meal, the shades of night descended upon us, in this our first bivouac in the unknown interior.  By observations of the bright stars Vega and Altair, I found my latitude was 24 degrees 52’ 15”; the night was excessively cold, and by daylight next morning the thermometer had fallen to 18 degrees.  Our blankets and packs were covered with a thick coating of ice; and tea left in our pannikins overnight had become solid cakes.

The country here being soft and sandy, we unshod all the horses and carried the shoes.  So far as I could discern with the glasses, the river channel came from the west, but I decided to go north-west, as I was sure it would turn more northerly in time; and I dreaded being caught in a long bend, and having to turn back many miles, or chance the loss of some or all the horses in a boggy crossing.  To the south a line of hills appeared, where the natives were burning the spinifex in all directions.  These hills had the appearance of red sandstone; and they had a series of ancient ocean watermarks along their northern face, traceable for miles.  This I called Johnstone’s Range.  As another night approached, we could see, to the north, the brilliant flames of large grass fires, which had only recently been started by some prowling sons of the soil, upon their becoming aware of our presence in their domain.  The nights now were usually very cold.  One night some wild man or beast must have been prowling around our camp, for my little dog Monkey exhibited signs of great perturbation for several hours.  We kept awake, listening for some sounds that might give us an idea of the intruders; and being sure that we heard the tones of human voices, we got our rifles in readiness.  The little dog barked still more furiously, but the sounds departed:  we heard them no more:  and the rest of the night passed in silence—­in silence and beautiful rest.

We had not yet even sighted the Finke, upon my north-west course; but I determined to continue, and was rewarded by coming suddenly upon it under the foot of high sandhills.  Its course now was a good deal to the north.  The horses being heavily packed, and the spinifex distressing them so much, we found a convenient spot where the animals could water without bogging, and camped.  Hard by, were some clumps of the fine-looking casuarinas; they grow to a height of twenty to twenty-five feet of barrel without a branch, and then spread out to a fine umbrella top; they flourish out of pure red sand.  The large sheet of water at the camp had wild ducks on it:  some of these we shot.  The day was very agreeable, with cool breezes from the north-west.  A tributary joins the Finke here from the west, and a high dark hill forms its southern embankment:  the western horizon is bounded by broken lines of hills, of no great elevation.  As we ascend the river, the country gradually rises, and we are here about 250 feet above the level of the Charlotte Waters Station.