Before I left Adelaide I had instructed Messrs. Tassie & Co., of Port Augusta, to forward certain stores required for our journey, which loading had already been despatched by teams to the Peake.  We made a leisurely journey up the country, as it was of no use to overtake our stores.  At Beltana Mr. Chandler had got and kept my black boy Dick, who pretended to be overjoyed to see me, and perhaps he really was; but he was extra effusive in his affection, and now declared he had been a silly young fool, that he didn’t care for wild blacks now a bit, and would go with me anywhere.  When Mr. Chandler got him he was half starved, living in a blacks’ camp, and had scarcely any clothes.  Leaving Beltana, in a few days we passed the Finniss Springs Station, and one of the people there made all sorts of overtures to Dick, who was now dressed in good clothes, and having had some good living lately, had got into pretty good condition; some promises must have been made him, as when we reached the Gregory, he bolted away, and I never saw him afterwards.

The Gregory was now running, and by simply dipping out a bucketful of water, several dozens of minnows could be caught.  In this way we got plenty of them, and frying them in butter, just as they were, they proved the most delicious food it was possible to eat, equal, if not superior, to whitebait.  Nothing of a very interesting nature occurred during our journey up to the Peake, where we were welcomed by the Messrs. Bagot at the Cattle Station, and Mr. Blood of the Telegraph Department.  Here we fixed up all our packs, sold Mr. Bagot the wagon, and bought horses and other things; we had now twenty packhorses and four riding ditto.  Here a short young man accosted me, and asked me if I did not remember him, saying at the same time that he was “Alf.”  I fancied I knew his face, but thought it was at the Peake that I had seen him, but he said, “Oh no, don’t you remember Alf with Bagot’s sheep at the north-west bend of the Murray? my name’s Alf Gibson, and I want to go out with you.”  I said, “Well, can you shoe? can you ride? can you starve? can you go without water? and how would you like to be speared by the blacks outside?” He said he could do everything I had mentioned, and he wasn’t afraid of the blacks.  He was not a man I would have picked out of a mob, but men were scarce, and as he seemed so anxious to come, and as I wanted somebody, I agreed to take him.  We got all our horses shod, and two extra sets of shoes fitted for each, marked, and packed away.  I had a little black-and-tan terrier dog called Cocky, and Gibson had a little pup of the same breed, which he was so anxious to take that at last I permitted him to do so.