At this time Mr. Stuart was taken ill with pains similar to my own, and Davenport had an attack of dysentery.

On the 23rd it blew a fierce gale and a hot wind from west by north, which rendered us still more uncomfortable:  nothing indeed could be done without risk in such a temperature, and such a climate.  The fearful position in which we were placed, caused me great uneasiness; the men began to sicken, and I felt assured that if we remained much longer, the most serious consequences might be apprehended.

On the 24th, Mr. Browne went with Flood to examine a stony creek about 16 miles to the south, and on our way homewards.  We had little hope that he would find any water in it, but if he did, a plan had suggested itself, by which we trusted to effect our escape.  It being impossible to stand the outer heat, the men were obliged to take whatever things wanted repair, to our underground room, and I was happy to learn from Mr. Stuart, who I sent up to superintend them, that the natives had not in the least disturbed Mr. Poole’s grave.

On the 25th Mr. Browne returned, and returned unsuccessful:  he could find no water any where, and told me it was fearful to ride down the creeks and to witness their present state.

We were now aware that there could be no water nearer to us than 118 miles, i. e. at Flood’s Creek, and even there it was doubtful if water any longer remained.  To have moved the party on the chance of finding it would have been madness:  the weather was so foreboding, the heat so excessive, and the horses so weak, that I did not dare to trust them on such a journey, or to risk the life of any man in such an undertaking.  I was myself laid up, a helpless being, for I had gradually sunk under the attack of scurvy which had so long hung upon me.  The day after I arrived in camp I was unable to walk:  in a day or two more, my muscles became rigid, my limbs contracted, and I was unable to stir; gradually also my skin blackened, the least movement put me to torture, and I was reduced to a state of perfect prostration.  Thus stricken down, when my example and energies were so much required for the welfare and safety of others, I found the value of Mr. Browne’s services and counsel.  He had already volunteered to go to Flood’s Creek to ascertain if water was still to be procured in it, but I had not felt justified in availing myself of his offer.  My mind, however, dwelling on the critical posture of our affairs, and knowing and feeling as I did the value of time, and that the burning sun would lick up any shallow pool that might be left exposed, and that three or four days might determine our captivity or our release, I sent for Mr. Browne, to consult with him as to the best course to be adopted in the trying situation in which we were placed, and a plan at length occurred by which I hoped he might venture on the journey to Flood’s Creek without risk.  This plan was to shoot one of the bullocks, and to