"A nice part of Australia this," remarked Brown, as they halted and gazed at the poor remains. "If we're not falling foul of a cemetery or a funeral, we run against skeletons lying promiscuously about. Wonder what brought them here."
"Not want of water at any rate," replied Morton. "Been a fight, perhaps. They don't seem to belong to those triangle gentry, at any rate."
"They must have been lying here months," answered Brown; "they're past our help anyway. May as well get on."
Gradually the swamps rounded off to the southward, and it was evident that there was no continuation that way. The creek they had followed from the lagoons had disappeared, as Brown had predicted. To the south was nothing but a stony, desert forest of stunted trees, the ground covered with spinifex. Strange to say, however, the track that had partly circled the hot swamp had branched off and headed due south. There had been some discussion as to whether they should follow it or not, but, as it was evident that this track and the one marked by the devil's footsteps were trending to the same centre, it was decided to postpone it until they had solved that mystery first. The swamp was of such a circumference that it was nearly sundown when they got back to the site of their last night's camp, having crossed no outflow from the swamp anywhere.
In the morning it was thought better to go back to the old camp at the lagoons and follow the devil's footsteps, than try to follow the track amongst the boulders coming from the south.
They arrived there early, and immediately made preparations for burying their spare rations, ammunition, &c. The next few hours were busy ones. Saddles, rations, spare ammunition, &c., were all carefully buried, and the whereabouts masked by a fire being lit on the top to hide the disturbance of the earth. They started as soon as this work was finished, each man carrying rifle, revolver, ammunition, three days' rations, quart-pot, and water-bag—a fair load for men always accustomed to riding only. Most devoutly they all prayed that they would be off the rock soon after daylight the next morning.
CHAPTER VI.
The Night March across the Great Rock—Meeting with the Natives—The Secret of the Burning Mountain.
With all the despatch they made they did not reach the edge of the rock before twelve; but it mattered little, as the surface was only then getting cool, and would have been unbearable any earlier.