During the day I had a long conversation with Mr. Carmichael upon our affairs in general, and our stock of provisions in particular; the conclusion we arrived at was, that having been nearly three months out, we had not progressed so far in the time as we had expected.  We had found the country so dry that until rains fell, it seemed scarcely probable that we should be able to penetrate farther to the west, and if we had to remain in depot for a month or two, it was necessary by some means to economise our stores, and the only way to do so was to dispense with the services of Alec Robinson.  It would be necessary, of course, in the first place, to find a creek to the eastward, which would take him to the Finke, and by the means of the same watercourse we might eventually get round to the southern shores of Lake Amadeus, and reach Mount Olga at last.

In our journey up the Finke two or three creeks had joined from the west, and as we were now beyond the sources of any of these, it would be necessary to discover some road to one or the other before Robinson could be parted with.  By dispensing with his services, as he was willing to go, we should have sufficient provisions left to enable us to hold out for some months longer:  even if we had to wait so long as the usual rainy season in this part of the country, which is about January and February, we should still have several months’ provisions to start again with.  In all these considerations Mr. Carmichael fully agreed, and it was decided that I should inform Alec of our resolution so soon as we returned to the camp.  After the usual nearly three hours’ work to water our horses, we turned our backs for the last time upon Glen Thirsty, where we had so often returned with exhausted and choking horses.

I must admit that I was getting anxious about Robinson and the state of things at the camp.  In going through Worrill’s Pass, we noticed that scarcely a tree had escaped from being struck by the lightning; branches and boughs lay scattered about, and several pines from the summits of the ridges had been blasted from their eminence.  I was not very much surprised, for I expected to be lightning-struck myself, as I scarcely ever saw such lightning before.  We got back to Robinson and the camp at 5 p.m.  My old horse that carried the pack had gone quite lame, and this caused us to travel very slowly.  Robinson was alive and quite well, and the little dog was overjoyed to greet us.  Robinson reported that natives had been frequently in the neighbourhood, and had lit fires close to the camp, but would not show themselves.  Marzetti’s mare had foaled, the progeny being a daughter; the horse that was staked was worse, and I found my old horse had also ran a mulga stake into his coronet.  I probed the wounds of both, but could not get any wood out.  Carmichael and I both thought we would like a day’s rest; and if I did not do much work, at least I thought a good deal.