Camped near Bayley's was Godfrey Massie, a cousin of Brownes and brother of the once famous cricketer. He had taken a contract to sink a shaft on the adjoining lease, but, owing to the death of one of his mates and his own incapacity to work, due to a “jarred” hand, he was forced to throw up the job, and quickly agreed to my proposal that he should form one of my party. People get to a very casual way of doing things on the goldfields. There was no formality about my arrangements; Godfrey helping me pack at a store, and during our work I said without preface, “You'd better come too;” “Right,” said he, and the matter was settled. Godfrey, a son of one of the leading Sydney families, had started life in an insurance office, but soon finding that he was not cut out for city life, went on to a Queensland cattle-station, where he gained as varied a knowledge of bush life as any could wish for; tiring of breeding and fattening cattle for somebody else's benefit, he joined the rush to the Tasmanian silver-fields and there he had the usual ups and downs—now a man of wealth, and now carrying his load of bacon and oatmeal through the jungle on the steep Tasmanian mountains. While a field continues to boom, the up-and-down business does not so much signify, but when the “slump” comes it is distinctly awkward to be in a state of “down.” It is then that the average speculator bemoans his hard fate, can't think how he is to live; and yet manages to do so by borrowing from any more fortunate fellow, and almost invariably omitting to pay him back. A most lively and entertaining class of men when shares are up, but a miserable, chicken-hearted lot when the luck turns.

Some, however, of these wandering speculators, who follow from “boom” to “boom,” are of very different mettle and face their luck like men. Such a one was Godfrey, who, when he found himself “broke” in Tasmania, set to work and burned charcoal until he had saved enough money to pay his passage to Perth; and from there he “humped his bluey” to Coolgardie, and took a job as a miner on his uncle's mine until brighter times should come. The Australian can set us a good example in some matters, and I must confess with sorrow that nine out of every ten young Englishmen on the goldfields, of the same class, would not only be too haughty to work, but would more readily take to billiards, cards, and borrowing when they found themselves in low water—and no man sinks lower than an English “gentlemen” who has gone to the bad, and no one despises him more than an Australian miner, or is more ready to help him when he shows signs of trying to help himself by honest work. I had known Godfrey long enough to be sure that, in the bush, he was as good a man as I could get, hard as nails, and willing to work for other people, as energetically as he would for himself, so long as they treated him fairly.

My party was now complete, and included a little fox terrier, “Val” by name, whose parents belong to Tom and Gerald Browne, and come of the best stock in Australia. I had intended to take another man, but, since I could not get one of the right sort, I had no idea of handicapping the party with one of the wrong. At the last minute, however, Charlie Stansmore changed his mind, greatly to my delight, for I knew him to be as sterling a fellow as one could hope to find. Charlie, too, had knocked about from Queensland to West Australia, now on a station, now a miner, and now engine-driver. His people were amongst the earliest settlers on the Swan River, and could well remember the great massacre of whites by the blacks; subsequently they moved to Victoria, where they have farming land at the present time. A very quiet, reserved man was Charlie, who took a great interest in mechanical work and astronomy, a strong man physically and mentally. Thus at last we were ready to tackle whatever the “great unknown” had in store for us.

With hearty wishes for success from the few friends who knew where we were bound for, we shook the mud of Coolgardie from our feet and took the northern road to Menzies on July 9, 1896. Breaden, Stansmore, Massie, Warri, nine heavily laden camels, and a dog made a fine show, and I confess I was near bursting from pride as I watched them.

Who could foresee that one of us was destined never to return?

Acting on the principle of making mention of matters which I have noticed excite an amount of interest in “Home” people, though to us, who are used to them, their importance hardly seems to warrant it, I subjoin a list of the articles and provisions with which we started:—

The stores were calculated to last six months with care and longer should we encounter good country where game could be shot. Everything that could be was packed in large leather bags, made to order. Other expeditions have carried wooden brass-bound boxes; I do not approve of these—first on account of their own weight and bulk; second, when empty they are equally bulky and awkward; third, unless articles are of certain shapes and dimensions they cannot be packed in the boxes, which do not “give” like bags. Wooden water casks are generally used—my objections to them are that they weigh more than the iron ones, are harder to mend, and when empty are liable to spring or warp from the hot sun.

It will be seen that a great part of our load consisted of tools which, though weighty, were necessary, should we come on auriferous country, or be forced to sink to any depth for water: a great many of these tools were left in the desert.

The average load with which each camel started, counting the water casks (the four large ones) full, was 531 lbs., exclusive of saddle. Kruger and Shiddi carried over 750 lbs. including top loading and saddle.