to be fairly cheerful on the whole. I do not like writing about my
companion's crotchets, because it seems unfair, since one's own
shortcomings never find the light unless the other man writes a book too.
By freely conceding that sometimes I must have been a horrible nuisance
to him, I feel absolved in this matter. When Luck used to get sulky fits,
he really was most trying; for two or three days he wouldn't speak, and
for want of company I used to talk to the camels; at the end of that time,
when I saw signs of recovery, I used to address him thus, "Well, Bismarck,
what's it all about?" Then he would tell me how I had agreed to bake a
damper, and had gone off and done something else, leaving him to do it, or
some such trivial complaint. After telling me about it, he would regain
his usual cheerfulness. "Bismarck" was a sure draw, and made him so angry
that he had to laugh as the only way out of it without fighting someone.
Luck, you see, was from Alsace, and did not care about the Germans.




CHAPTER III



FROM MOUNT SHENTON TO MOUNT MARGARET


But to continue our journey. We left Mount Grant on May 8th, travelling
South-West, and once away from the hills came again into sand and
spinifex. From absence of feed we tied the camels down two nights running.
The second night we had a visit from a native gentleman, and by his tracks
in the morning we saw that he had been quite close to our heads at one