us where the whites had been attacked when encamped.  We saw lots of fish-bones, but no evidence there on the trees to suppose whites had been there.  They had certainly chosen a very bad camp, in the centre of a box scrub, with native huts within 150 to 200 yards of them.  On further examination we found the dung of camels and horse or horses evidently tied up a long time ago.  Between that and the grave we found another grave, evidently dug with a spade or shovel, and a lot of human hair of two colours, that had become decomposed in the skin of the skull and fallen off in flakes, some of which I have also taken.  I fancy they must all have been murdered here.  Dug out the new-found grave with a stick, the only instrument we had, but found no remains of bodies, save one little bone.  The black accounted for this in this manner—­he says they had eaten them.  Found in an old fireplace immediately adjoining what appeared to be bones very well burnt, but not in any quantity.  In and about the last grave named, a piece of light blue tweed and fragments of paper, and small pieces of a Nautical Almanac were found, and an exploded Eley’s cartridge; no appearance on any of the trees of bullet marks as if a struggle had taken place.  On a further examination of the blacks’ camp where the pint pot was found, there was also found a tin canteen similar to what is used for keeping naphtha in, or some such stuff, both of which we keep.  The natives say that any memos the whites had are back on the last camp we were at on the lake with the natives, as well as the iron-work of saddles, etc., which on our return we mean to endeavour to recover, if the blacks can be found.  It may be rash, but there is necessity for it.  Intend before returning to have a further search.

. . .

The next day they dug up a quantity of baked horsehair, which had apparently been used for saddle stuffing.  The hostility displayed by the blacks compelled Mr. McKinlay and his party to fire upon them.  The mystery attached to the remains here spoken of has yet to be cleared up.  The idea at first entertained that they were those of Gray is not tenable.  A glance at the map will show that Gray died and was buried far away to the north-east of McKinlay’s track.

On the day of King’s arrival in Melbourne, my son’s watch, a gold chronometer, which he had used to calculate the longitudes by, was duly delivered to me in presence of the Governor; also his last letter, distinctly traced in a firm hand on a ruled page torn from some book.  It was not sealed, but neatly wrapped in a loose cover.  The relic is invaluable.

Mr. Wills’s last letter to his father.  Brought down by King.

Cooper’s Creek, 27 June, 1861.

My dear father,

These are probably the last lines you will ever get from me.  We are on the point of starvation, not so much from absolute want of food, but from the want of nutriment in what we can get.