"Gee up, Misery!" cried Mac, cracking his long whip.
"Gee up, Slavery!" echoed Stewart. And we started out, heading N.N.E., bound for the land where the pelican builds its nest.
For the first few miles we crossed the gridiron-like tracks connecting the numerous camps and settlements lying out from the main township of Kalgoorlie; but soon these signs of civilisation vanished, and in the early afternoon our course lay over a wildering scrubland, with iron-shot sand-patches here and there among the stunted shrubs. The camels, which we had named "Slavery" and "Misery," led the trail. They were, indeed, wiry animals, and as I paced beside them, noting their almost ludicrously leisurely tread, I could not help remarking on the vast amount of latent power indicated in every movement of their rubber-like bodies. "Slavery" was a patient and gentle animal, and marched along meekly under his load of full seven hundred pounds, but "Misery" soon displayed a somewhat fiery temper, and before our first day's journey was completed we were compelled to adopt stern measures with the recalcitrant brute.
The horses formed a sad-looking line behind the sturdier beasts of burden, and they would cheerfully have forced along at a speedier rate than the progress of the camels allowed. Among them were two high-spirited animals, which we named "Sir John" and "Reprieve," while the three others we dubbed simply "Sin," "Sand," and "Sorrow."
We camped that evening just twelve miles from our starting-point, and yet it seemed as if we were already beyond the reach of civilisation. Not a trace of a white man's presence was visible anywhere, and for the first night we missed the crashing rattle of the ever-working batteries. A deathlike stillness filled the air, broken only by the startled scream of the carrion crow or the weird double note of the mopoke.
"There's any amount of room for prospecting here," hazarded Phil, gazing around, after the horses and camels had been safely picketed. Which was true; yet who could have the heart to sink a proving shaft amid such inhospitable surroundings?
"If we locate an outcrop, boys," I said, "we may trace it up, but otherwise we can only test the surface sands with the dryblower."
It was but vaguely known what kind of country lay far to eastward of us. Many thousands of square miles had never been crossed by any traveller, and strange rumours were often circulated among the miners of the various outposts regarding the extraordinary riches of the vast "Never Never" land. It was even predicted that a great inland river flowed northwards towards the Gulf of Carpentaria; how far it flowed before sinking in the arid sands was a matter for conjecture, but it was confidently supposed to drain fertile valleys, and to be flanked by noble mountain ranges rich in gold and precious gems. It was a rosy enough picture, surely, but one which, unfortunately, no explorer had yet succeeded in bearing out.
"It's a gran' thing," said Mac thoughtfully, when supper was over, and we were reclining on our blankets gazing at the stars, and listening to the tinkling of the camel bells. "It's a vera gran' thing," he repeated, "tae be alane aince mair, an' wi' the bonnie stars shinin' brichtly abune——"