The high mountain was very remote; it must be at least seventy or seventy-five miles away, with nothing apparently between but a country similar to that immediately before and behind us; that is to say, sandhills and scrub. I was, however, delighted to perceive any feature for which to make as a medium point, and which might help to change the character and monotony of the country over which I have been wandering so long. I thought it not improbable that some extensive watercourses may proceed from these new ranges which might lead me at last away to the west. For the present, not being able to get water at this little glen, although I believe a supply can be obtained with a shovel, I decided to return to the tarn at Glen Edith, which was now fifty-five miles away, remove the camp to the newly-found creek at the Vale of Tempe, and then return here, open out this watering place with a shovel, and make a straight line for the newly-discovered high mountain to the south. By the time these conclusions had been arrived at, and our wanderings about the rocks completed, it was nearly midday; and as we had thirty-five miles to travel to get back to the creek, it took us all the remainder of the day to do so; and it was late when we again encamped upon its friendly banks. The thermometer to-day had stood at 96 degrees. We now had our former tracks to return upon to the tarn. The morning was cool and pleasant, and we arrived at the depot early. Alec Robinson informed me that he believed some natives had been prowling about the camp in our absence, as the little dog had been greatly perturbed during two of the nights we were away. It was very possible that some natives had come to the tarn for water, as well as to spy out who and what and how many vile and wicked intruders had found their way into this secluded spot; but as they must have walked about on the rocks they left no traces of their visit.