east, and it was past three when they were brought back.
Unfortunately, Gibson's little dog Toby followed him out to-day and
never returned. After we started I sent Gibson back to await the poor
pup's return, but at night Gibson came without Toby; I told him he
could have any horses he liked to go back for him to-morrow, and I
would have gone myself only I was still too ill. During the night
Gibson was taken ill just as I had been; therefore poor Toby was never
recovered. We have still one little dog of mine which I bought in
Adelaide, of the same kind as Toby, that is to say, the small
black-and-tan English terrier, though I regret to say he is decidedly
not, of the breed of that Billy indeed, who used to kill rats for a
bet; I forget how many one morning he ate, but you'll find it in
sporting books yet. It was very late when we reached our old bough
gunyah camp; there was no water. I intended going up farther, but,
being behind, Mr. Tietkens and Jimmy had began to unload, and some of
the horses were hobbled out when I arrived; Gibson was still behind.
For the second time I have been compelled to retreat to this range;
shall I ever get away from it? When we left the rock, the thermometer
indicated 110 degrees in the shade.

Next morning I was a little better, but Gibson was very ill--indeed I
thought he was going to die, and would he had died quietly there. Mr.
Tietkens and I walked up the creek to look for the horses. We found
and took about half of them to the surface water up in the narrow
glen. When we arrived, there was plenty of water running merrily along
the creek channel, and there were several nice ponds full, but when we
brought the second lot to the place an hour and a half afterwards, the
stream had ceased to flow, and the nice ponds just mentioned were all
but empty and dry. This completely staggered me to find the drainage
cease so suddenly. The day was very hot, 110 degrees, when we returned