In ten miles we had passed several little gullies, and reached the
foot of other hills, where a few Australian pines were scattered here
and there. These hills have a glistening, sheening, laminated
appearance, caused by the vast quantities of mica which abounds in
them. Their sides are furrowed and corrugated, and their upper
portions almost bare rock. Time was lost here in unsuccessful searches
for water, and we departed to another range, four or five miles
farther on, and apparently higher; therefore perhaps more likely to
supply us with water. Mr. Carmichael and I ascended the range, and
found it to be 900 feet from its base; but in all its gullies water
there was none. The view from the summit was just such as I have
described before--an ocean of scrubs, with isolated hills or ranges
appearing like islands in most directions. Our horses had been already
twenty-four hours without water. I wanted to reach the far range to
the west, but it was useless to push all the pack-horses farther into
such an ocean of scrubs, as our rate of progress in them was so
terribly slow. I decided to return to the small supply I had left as a
reserve, and go myself to the far range, which was yet some thirty
miles away. The country southward seemed to have been more recently
visited by the natives than upon our line of march, which perhaps was
not to be wondered at, as what could they get to live on out of such a
region as we had got into? Probably forty or fifty miles to the south,
over the tops of some low ridges, we saw the ascending smoke of
spinifex fires, still attended to by the natives; and in the
neighbourhood, no doubt, they had some watering places. On our retreat
we travelled round the northern face of the hills, upon whose south
side we had arrived, in hopes of finding some place having water,
where I might form a depot for a few days. By night we could find
none, and had to encamp without, either for ourselves or our horses.