Next morning they still kept on along the avenue of gutta-percha-trees, and Morton began to hope that it would turn out to be one of the water-courses supplying the lake. In this, however, he was disappointed, for the trees grew fewer in number and further apart, until they passed the last one, and before them stretched once more a boundless plain.
The country now suddenly changed for the worse; the ground was sandy and covered with the detestable spinifex, and both Morton and Brown felt rather doubtful as to going on, for there was no knowing how far this desert might extend.
However, they made up their minds to proceed, as there was really nothing else to do. Then commenced one of the weariest rides they had yet experienced during the trip. It was even worse than the scrub. The prickly needles of the spinifex irritated the shins of the horses, so that it was with great trouble the pack-horses were urged along. Hour after hour went on, and still there was no change in the unbroken horizon that bounded them.
"I should fancy those old cannibals found it mighty rough on their shins if they had to cross a belt of desert like this," said Brown.
"I expect they kept it burnt down on the track they used to patronize," replied his friend.
"Fancy what the feelings of poor hopeless Stuart and his companions must have been when toiling through this waste."
"Yes. If we find it bad, what must starving men on foot have found it?"
That night fell on them still in the desert. They had an ample supply of water for themselves in the canvas bags, but their horses had to go both hungry and thirsty.
"Things begin to look rather queer," said Morton, as they prepared to start.
"Yes, it's a case if we don't get out of this by to-night."