to tell. We had wandered into and over such frightful
rocky and ungodly places, that it appeared useless
to search farther in such a region, as it seemed utterly
impossible for water to exist in it all. Nevertheless,
the natives were about, burning, burning, ever burning;
one would think they were of the fabled salamander
race, and lived on fire instead of water. The
fires were starting up here and there around us in
fresh and narrowing circles; it seems as though the
natives can only get water from the hollow spouts of
some trees and from the roots of others, for on the
surface of the earth there is none. We saw a
few rock wallaby, a different variety to the scrub
or open sandhill kinds. Bronze-winged pigeons
also were occasionally startled as we wandered about
the rocks; these birds must have water, but they never
drink except at sundown, and occasionally just before
sunrise, then they fly so swiftly, with unerring precision,
on their filmy wings, to the place they know so well
will supply them; and thirty, forty, or fifty miles
of wretched scrub, that would take a poor human being
and his horse a whole day to accomplish, are passed
over with the quickness of thought. The birds
we flushed up would probably dart across the scrubs
to the oasis we had so recently found. Our horses
were getting bad and thirsty; the day was warm; 92
degrees in the shade, in thirst and wretchedness,
is hot enough, for any poor animal or man either.
But man enters these desolate regions to please himself
or satisfy his desire for ambition to win for himself—what?
a medal, a record, a name? Well, yes, dear reader,
these may enter into his thoughts as parts of a tangible
recognition of his labours; but a nobler idea also
actuates him—either to find, for the benefit
of those who come after him, some beauteous spots
where they may dwell; or if these regions can’t
supply them, of deserts only can he tell; but the
unfortunate lower is forced into such frightful privations
to please the higher animals. We now turned up
towards the north-west, amongst scrubs, sandhills,
and more stony ridges, where another fruitless search
ended as before. Now to the east of us rose a
more continuous ridge, which we followed under its
(base) foot, hoping against hope to meet some creek
or gully with water. Gullies we saw, but neither
creeks or water. We continued on this line till
we struck our outgoing track, and as it was again
night, we encamped without water. We had travelled
in a triangle. To-day’s march was forty-three
miles, and we were yet twenty-nine from the tarn—apparently
the only water existing in this extraordinary and
terrible region.