My expedition was over.  I had failed certainly in my object, which was to penetrate to the sources of the Murchison River, but not through any fault of mine, as I think any impartial reader will admit.  Our outgoing tracks were very indistinct, but yet recognisable; we camped again at Number 1.  Our next line was nearly east, along the course of the Finke, passing a few miles south of Chambers’s Pillar.  I had left it but twelve weeks and four days; during that interval I had traversed and laid down over a thousand miles of previously totally unknown country.  Had I been fortunate enough to have fallen upon a good or even a fair line of country, the distance I actually travelled would have taken me across the continent.

I may here make a few remarks upon the Finke.  It is usually called a river, although its water does not always show upon the surface.  Overlanders, i.e. parties travelling up or down the road along the South Australian Trans-Continental Telegraph line, where the water does show on the surface, call them springs.  The water is always running underneath the sand, but in certain places it becomes impregnated with mineral and salty formations, which gives the water a disagreeable taste.  This peculiar drain no doubt rises in the western portions of the McDonnell Range, not far from where I traced it to, and runs for over 500 miles straight in a general south-westerly direction, finally entering the northern end of Lake Eyre.  It drains an enormous area of Central South Australia, and on the parallels of 24, 25, 26 degrees of south latitude, no other stream exists between it and the Murchison or the Ashburton, a distance in either case of nearly 1,100 miles, and thus it will be seen it is the only Central Australian river.

On the 21st of November we reached the telegraph line at the junction of the Finke and the Hugh.  The weather during this month, and almost to its close, was much cooler than the preceding one.  The horses were divided between us—­Robinson getting six, Carmichael four, and I five.  Carmichael and Robinson went down the country, in company, in advance of me, as fast as they could.  I travelled more slowly by myself.  One night, when near what is called the Horse-shoe bend of the Finke, I had turned out my horses, and as it seemed inclined to rain, was erecting a small tent, and on looking round for the tomahawk to drive a stake into the ground, was surprised to notice a very handsome little black boy, about nine or ten years old, quite close to me.  I patted him on the head, whereupon he smiled very sweetly, and began to talk most fluently in his own language.  I found he interspersed his remarks frequently with the words Larapinta, white fellow, and yarraman (horses).  He told me two white men, Carmichael and Robinson, and ten horses, had gone down, and that white fellows, with horses and camel drays (Gosse’s expedition), had just gone up the line.  While we were talking, two smaller boys came up and were patted, and patted me in return.