Page
"And all this Time the Happy-go-lucky Shadow was
plugging along over the Thirsty Desert Sands"
Frontispiece [116]
"Look what's coming, Boys"[48]
"Jack felt a Ball graze his Temple; then his own
Rifle spoke"		[173]
"He unfolded a Long Track Chart which he carried in
his hand"		[207]
"It looked as if Nothing could stand against that
Maddened Rush"		[255]
"Emu Bill gently pillowed his Dying Comrade's Head
upon his Knee"		[292]
"Mackay rushed to meet the New-comer"[341]
"Mackay, clutching fast to the Armoury of the
Expedition,was hauled to the Surface"		[370]

THE LOST EXPLORERS

CHAPTER I A Momentous Decision

"I'm full up of this ceaseless grind, Jack," suddenly broke out Robert Wentworth, a tall, slenderly built young man of about eighteen years of age, throwing down the paper he had been reading with unnecessary energy.

Jack Armstrong aroused himself from a reverie, and looked up with an amused gleam in his grey eyes. He was a medium-sized, squarely built youth about two years the junior of the first speaker.

"I believe I have heard you say that before, Bob," he said; "but all the same you echo my sentiments exactly. Still, what can we do? Our munificent salaries do little more than pay for our board in these digs"—he waved his hand comprehensively around the little room which they shared together—"and consequently we haven't saved enough to buy our steam yacht yet!" He laughed with affected cheerfulness.

Wentworth's strong, studious-looking face clouded momentarily.

"That's all very well, Jack," he answered severely; "but you know that there is little chance of our present positions improving to any extent. Engineering is good enough for the few; but I can plainly see that life is too short for us to make a fortune at the game. The fact is," he added, in a more moderate tone, "this country is too crowded for us, and too old. Everything is standardized so accurately that we are little more than machines; and we must exist on our paltry pittances, seeing nothing but grime and smoke and rain and fogs, until we become old and brain-sodden, with never a hope beyond the morrow. No, I am tired of it—absolutely full up of it." He picked up the discarded paper once more, and directed Armstrong's attention to a paragraph under the heading of General News, and this was what the younger man read—