CHAPTER II/II.

THE HORSES
ASCEND THE HILLS
IRRESOLUTION AND RETREAT
HORSES REDUCED TO GREAT WANT
UNEXPECTED RELIEF
TRY THE DESERT TO THE N.E.
FIND WATER IN OUR LAST WELL
REACH THE CREEK
PROCEED TO THE EASTWARD
PLAGUE OF FLIES AND ANTS
SURPRISE AN OLD MAN
SEA-GULLS AND PELICANS
FISH
POOL OF BRINE
MEET NATIVES
TURN TO THE N.E.
COOPER'S CREEK TRIBE, THEIR KINDNESS AND APPEARANCE
ATTEMPT TO CROSS THE PLAINS
TURN BACK
PROCEED TO THE NORTHWARD
EFFECTS OF REFRACTION
FIND NATIVES AT OUR OLD CAMP AND THE STORES UNTOUCHED
COOPER'S CREEK, ITS GEOGRAPHICAL POSITION.

I had taken all the horses, with the exception of one, out with me on this journey, and as they will shortly bear a prominent part in this narrative, I will make some mention of them. My own horse was a grey--for which reason I called him Duncan,--I had ridden him during the whole period of my wanderings, and think I never saw an animal that could endure more, or suffered less from the want of water; he was aged, and a proof, that in the brute creation as well as with mankind, years give a certain stamina that youth does not possess. This animal, as the reader will believe, knew me well, as indeed did all the horses, for I had stood by to see them watered many a time. Mr. Stuart rode Mr. Browne's horse, a little animal, but one of great endurance also; Mack used a horse we called the Roan, a hunter that had been Mr. Poole's. Morgan rode poor Punch, whose name I have before had occasion to mention, and who, notwithstanding subsequent rest, had not recovered from the fatigues of his northern excursion. Besides these we had four pack horses:--Bawley, a strong and compact little animal, with a blaze on the forehead, high spirited, with a shining coat, and having been a pet, was up to all kind of tricks, but was a general favourite, and a nice horse;--the other was Traveller, a light chesnut, what the hunter would call a washy brute, always eating and never fat;--the Colt, so called from his being young, certainly unequal to such a journey as that on which he was taken;--and Slommy, another aged horse. During the summer, Traveller had had a great discharge from the nose, and I was several times on the point of ordering him to be shot, under an apprehension that his disease was the glanders; but, although the colt and my own horse contracted it, I postponed my final mandate, and all recovered; however, he continued weak. At this time they were unshod, and had pretty well worn their hoofs down to the quick, insomuch that any inequality in the ground made them limp, and it was distressing to ride them; but, notwithstanding, they bore up singularly against the changes and fatigues they had to go through.

From a small rising ground near where we stopped in the valley, on the occasion of which I am speaking, and in the obscure light of departing day we saw to the N.N.W. a line of dark looking hills, at the distance of about ten or twelve miles, but we could not discover tree or bush upon them, all we could make out was that they were dark objects above the line of horizon, and that the intervening country seemed to be as dark as they were. The weather had changed from cold to hot, the wind having flown from S. to the N.E., and the day and night were exceedingly warm. I was sorry to observe, too, that the horses had scarcely touched the grass on which, for their sakes, I had been tempted to stop, and that they were evidently suffering from the previous day's journey of from 34 to 36 miles, that being about the distance we had left the water in the grassy valley. Before mounting, on the morning of the 21st, Mr. Stuart and I went to see if we could make out more than we had been able to do the night before, what kind of country was in front of us, but we were disappointed, and found that we should have to wait patiently until we got nearer the hills to judge of their formation. About half a mile below where we had slept, the valley led to the N.N.E., and on turning, we found it there opened at once upon the Stony Desert; but the hills were now hid from us by sandy undulations to our left, and even when we got well into the plain we could hardly make out what the hills were. As we neared them, however, we observed that they were nothing more than high sand hills, covered with stones even as the desert itself, to their tops. That part of it over which we were riding also differed from any other portion, in having large sharp-pointed water-worn rocks embedded in the ground amongst the stones, as if they had been so whilst the ground was soft. There was a line of small box-trees marking the course of a creek between us and the hills, and a hope that we should find water cheered us for a moment, but that ray soon vanished when we saw the nature of its bed. We searched along it for about half an hour in vain, and then turned to the hills and ascended to the top of one of the highest, about 150 feet above the level of the plain. From it the eye wandered hopelessly for some bright object on which to rest. Behind us to the south-east lay the sand hills we had crossed, with the stony plain sweeping right round them, but in every other direction the dark brown desert extended. The line of the horizon was broken to the north-west and north by hills similar to the one we had ascended; but in those directions not a blade of grass, not a glittering spot was to be seen.

At this point, which I have placed in lat. 25 degrees 54 minutes and in long. 139 degrees 25 minutes, I had again to choose between the chance of success or disaster, as on the first occasion; if I went on and should happen to find water, all for the time would be well, if not, destruction would have been inevitable. I was now nearly 50 miles from water, and feared that, as it was, some of my horses would fall before I could get back to it, yet I lingered undecided on the hill, reluctant to make up my mind, for I felt that if I thus again retired, it would be a virtual abandonment of the task undertaken. I should be doing an injustice to Mr. Stuart and to my men if I did not here mention that I told them the position we were placed in, and the chance on which our safety would depend if we went on. They might well have been excused if they had expressed an opinion contrary to such a course, but the only reply they made was to assure me that they were ready and willing to follow me to the last. After this, I believe I sat on the hill for more than half an hour with the telescope in my hand, but there was nothing to encourage me onwards; our situation, however, admitted not of delay. I might, it is true, have gone on and perished with all my men; but I saw neither the credit nor the utility of such a measure. I trust the reader will believe that I would not have shrunk from any danger that perseverance or physical strength could have overcome; that indeed I did not shrink from the slow fate, which, as far as I could judge, would inevitably have awaited me if I had gone on; but that in the exercise of sound discretion I decided on falling back. The feeling which would have led me onwards was similar to that of a man who is sensible of having committed an error, yet is ashamed to make an apology, and who would rather run the risk of being shot, than of having the charge of pusillanimity fixed upon him; but I have never regretted the step I took, and it has been no small gratification to me to find that the Noble President of the Royal Geographical Society, Lord Colchester, when addressing the members of that enlightened body, in its name presenting medals to Dr. Leichhardt and myself, for our labours in the cause of Geography, alluded to and approved "the prudence with which further advance was abandoned, when it could only have risked the loss of those entrusted to my charge."

We slowly retraced our steps to the valley in which we had slept, and I stopped there for half an hour, but none of the horses would eat, with the exception of Traveller, and he certainly made good use of his time. The others collected round me as I sat under a tree, with their heads over mine, and my own horse pulled my hat off my head to engage my attention. Poor brute! I would have given much at that moment to have relieved him, but I could not. We were all of us in the same distress, and if we had not ultimately found water must all have perished together. Finding that they would not eat, we saddled and proceeded onwards, I should say backwards--and at 10 p.m. we were on the sand ridges. At the head of the valley Traveller fell dead, and I feared every moment that we should lose the Colt. At one I stopped to rest the horses till dawn, and then remounted, but Morgan and Mack got slowly on, so that I thought it better to precede them, and if possible to take some water back to moisten the mouth of their horses, and I accordingly went in advance with Mr. Stuart. I thought we should never have got through the dead box-tree forest I have mentioned, however we did so about 11 a.m., and made straight for the spot where we expected to relieve both ourselves and our horses, but the water was gone. Mr. Stuart poked his fingers into the mud and moistened his lips with the water that filled the holes he had made, but that was all. We were yet searching for water when Morgan and Mack appeared, but without the colt; fortunately they had descended into the valley higher up, and had found a little pool, which they had emptied, under an impression that we had found plenty; and were astonished at hearing that none any longer remained. In this situation, and with the apparent certain prospect of losing my own and Mr. Browne's horse, and the colt which was still alive when the men left him, not more than a mile in the rear, we continued our search for water, but it would have been to no purpose. Suddenly a pigeon topped the sand hill--it being the first bird we had seen--a solitary bird--passing us like lightning, it pitched for a moment, and for a moment only, on the plain, about a quarter of a mile from us, and then flew away. It could only have wetted its bill, but Mr. Stuart had marked the spot, and there was water. Perhaps I ought to dwell for a moment on this singular occurrence, but I leave it to make its own impression on the reader's feelings. I was enabled to send back to the colt, and we managed to save him, and as there was a sufficiency of water for our consumption, I determined to give the men a day of rest, and to try if I could find a passage across the Desert a little to the eastward of north, and with Mr. Stuart proceeded in that direction on the morning of the 24th; but at 3 p.m. we were out of sight of all high land. The appearance of the Desert was like that of an immense sea beach, and large fragments of rock were imbedded in the ground, as if by the force of waters, and the stones were more scattered, thus shewing the sandy bed beneath and betwixt them. The day was exceedingly hot, and our horses' hoofs were so brittle that pieces flew off them like splinters when they struck them against the stones. We were at this time about sixteen or seventeen miles from the sand hill where we had left the men. The Desert appeared to be taking a northerly direction, and certainly was much broader than further to the westward, making apparently for the Gulf of Carpentaria; nor could I doubt but that there had once been an open sea between us and it. We reached our little bivouac at 9 p.m. both ourselves and our horses thoroughly wearied, and disappointed as we had been, I regretted that I had put the poor things to unnecessary hardships. Perhaps I was wrong in having done so, but I could not rest. Our latitude here was 26 degrees 26 minutes and our long. by account 139 degrees 21 minutes. In the morning we crossed the remaining portion of the Desert, as I had determined on making the best of my way to the creek, and passing the sandy ridges reached our first water (the 4th going out), about sunset or a little before. Water still remained, but it was horridly thick, and in the morning smelt so offensive that it was loathsome to ourselves and the animals. Our great, indeed our only, dependence then was on the water in the little channel on the grassy plain; at this we arrived late on the afternoon of the 25th. Another day and we should again have been disappointed: the water on which I had calculated for a fortnight was all but gone. In the morning we drained almost the last drop out of the channel. We were now about 92 miles from the creek, without the apparent probability of relief till we should get to it, for it seemed hopeless to expect that we should find any water in the wells we had dug. Crossing the grassy plains on an east-north-east course, we passed the salt lake about 10 a.m. to our left, and ran along the sandy ridges between it and our encampment of the 15th, where we had made our second well, at 6 p.m., but it was dry and the bottom cracked and baked.

I would gladly have given my poor horses a longer rest than prudence would have justified, but we had not time for rest. At 8 we again mounted, and went slowly on; and when darkness closed around us lit a small lamp, and one of us walking in front led the way for the others to follow; thus tracking our way over those dreary regions all night long, we neared our last remaining well, 36 miles distant from the creek, just as morning dawned. Objects were still obscure as we approached the spot where our hopes rested, for our horses could hardly drag one foot after the other. Mr. Stuart was in front, and called to me that he saw the little trees under whose shade we had slept; soon after he said he saw something glittering where the well was, and immediately after shouted out, "Water, water." It is impossible for me to record all this without a feeling of more than thankfulness to the Almighty Power that guided us. At this place we were still 180 miles from Fort Grey; and if we had not found this supply, it is more than probable the fate of our horses would have sealed our own. As it was we joyfully unsaddled, and, after watering, turned them out to feed. Singular it was that the well on which we had least dependence, and from which we had been longest absent, should thus have held out--but so it was. At 9 we resumed our journey, there being about half a gallon a-piece for the horses just before we started; but although this, and the short rest they had, had relieved them, they got on slowly; and it was not until after midnight of the 27th, a.m. indeed of the 28th, that we reached the creek, with two short of our complement of horses, the Roan and the Colt both having dropped on the plains, but fortunately at no great distance, so that we recovered them in the course of the day.

It will naturally be supposed that, arrived at a place of safety, we here rested for a while; but my mind was no sooner relieved from one cause for anxiety, than it was filled with another. If I except the thunder-storm which had enabled me to undertake my late journey from the creek, no rain had fallen, the weather had suddenly become oppressively hot, with a sky as clear as ether. I had still the mountain range to the N.E. to examine, and the upper branches of the creek, and in this necessary survey I knew no time was to be lost. Indeed I doubted if my return to the Depot was not already shut out, by the drying up of the water in Strzelecki's Creek, although I hoped Mr. Browne still held his ground; but not only was I anxious on these heads, but as to our eventual retreat from these heartless regions. I would gladly have rested for a few days, for I was beginning to feel weak. From the 20th of July, and it was now the last day but two of October, I had been in constant exercise from sunrise to sunset; and if I except the few days I had rested at the Depot, had slept under the canopy of heaven. My food had been insufficient to support me, and I had a malady hanging upon me that was slowly doing its work; but I felt that I had no time to spare, and, as I could not justify indulgence to myself, so on the 29th we commenced our progress up the creek, but halted at six miles on a beautiful sheet of water, and with every promise of success. In the course of the day we passed a singularly large grave. It was twenty-three feet long, and fourteen broad. The boughs on the top of it were laid so as to meet the oval shape of the mound itself, but the trees were not carved, nor were there any walks about it, as I had seen in other parts of the continent.