"We have gone for the Bunyip. We travel on foot! Farewell and
Farewell!"

We had scarcely read it, when John Marshall and his wife came in
agitation, and said that Billy's bed had not been slept in during the
night. From the rouseabout we found that Eversofar and Bingong were also
gone. They had not taken horses, doubtless because Billy thought it
would hardly be valiant and adventurous enough, and because neither
Bingong nor Eversofar owned one, and it might look criminal to go off
with mine. We suspected that they had headed for the great Debil-devil
Waterhole, where, it was said, the Bunyip appeared: that mysterious
animal, or devil, or thing, which nobody has ever seen, but many have
pretended to see. Now, this must be said of Billy, that he never had the
feeling of fear--he was never even afraid of me. He had often said he
had seen a Bunyip, and that he'd bring one home some day, but no one
took him seriously. It showed what great influence he had over his
companions, that he could induce them to go with him; for Bingong, being
a native, must naturally have a constitutional fear of the Debil-debil,
as the Bunyip is often called. The Debil-debil Waterhole was a long way
off, and through a terrible country--quartz plains, ragged scrub, and
little or no water all the way. Then, had they taken plenty of food with
them? So far as we could see, they had taken some, but we could not tell
how much.

My wife smiled at the business at first; then became worried as the day
wore on, and she could see the danger and hardship of wandering about
this forsaken country without a horse and with uncertain water. The day
passed. They did not return. We determined on a search the next
morning. At daybreak, Marshall and I and the rouseabout started on good
horses, each going at different angles, but agreeing to meet at the Debil