The Poor Brutes Had Rambled Away In Search Of Water, But Found None.

The scream of a cockatoo made me wish to continue our ride down the creek; but my companion was so completely exhausted that I resolved upon returning to the camp, but by a different route, passing to the east side of Scott's and Roper's Peaks.

We found sandstone ridges to the very foot of the peaks. Although we passed many localities where water might have been expected, and travelled where three different rocks, domite, sandstone, and basalt, came in contact, and where springs are so frequently found, yet not a drop of water could we find. In travelling over the hot plains our horses began to fail us; neither whip nor spur could accelerate their snail-like pace; they seemed to expect that every little shade of the scattered trees would prove a halting-place; and it was not without the greatest difficulty that we could induce them to pass on. It was indeed distressingly hot: with open mouths we tried to catch occasional puffs of a cooler air; our lips and tongue got parched, our voice became hoarse, and our speech unintelligible. Both of us, but particularly my poor companion, were in the most deplorable state. In order to ease my horse, I tried to walk; but, after a few paces. I found it impossible; I was too much exhausted. At this distressing moment, however, we crossed the tracks of horses and bullocks, and then we knew we were near the camp, the sight of which, a short time afterwards, was most welcome to us.

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