round. The day was hot, the thermometer marked 105 degrees. There was
not sufficient water here for the horses, and I decided, as we had not
actually dug at our old camp, to return there and do so. This we did,
and obtained a sufficiency at last. We were enabled to keep the camp
here for a few days, while Mr. Tietkens and I tried to find a more
northerly route to the west. Leaving Gibson and Jimmy behind, we took
three horses and steered away for the north. Our route on this trip
led us into the most miserable country, dry ridges and spinifex,
sandhills and scrubs, which rolled along in undulations of several
miles apart. We could get no water, and camped after a day's journey
of forty miles.

Though the day had been very hot, the night became suddenly cool. In
the morning of the 28th of October, at five miles we arrived at a
scrubby sand ridge, and obtained a most displeasing view of the
country further north. The surface seemed more depressed, but entirely
filled up with dense scrubs, with another ridge similar to the one we
were on bounding the view; we reached it in about eight miles. The
view we then got was precisely similar to that behind us, except that
the next undulation that bounded the horizon was fifteen to eighteen
miles away. We had now come fifty-one miles from the Shoeing Camp;
there was no probability of getting water in such a region. To the
west the horizon was bounded by what appeared a perfectly flat and
level line running northwards. This flat line to the west seemed not
more than twenty-five to thirty miles away; between us and it were a
few low stony hills. Not liking the northern, I now decided to push
over to the western horizon, which looked so flat. I have said there
were some stony hills in that direction; we reached the first in
twenty miles. The next was formed of nearly bare rock, where there
were some old native gunyahs. Searching about we found another of