"It's rough to Blood's Creek. I don't think you'll get there to-night," were the youth's parting words.
And he was right. It was a sweltering hot afternoon. Progress was slow; and at about 20 miles having to hurriedly dismount (for the hundredth time), my left foot came on one of the large loose stones, and turned under me. The jar so nearly put out the ankle joint that I was compelled to camp right where the mishap occurred.
Stretching out my sheet of waterproofing I made myself as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. Millions of flies; myriads of venomous mosquitoes. Hungry as usual, and feeling that if I had only one good long drink of water, hot, cold or lukewarm, I could die joyfully.
Waterproof sheeting is not conducive to good health especially if the night be cold. Because of the heat from one's body condensation sets in, with the result that the under side of the sheeting becomes a sheet of water. This discovery I made for myself on arising next morning; turning the waterproof over quickly, I greedily licked up, cat-like, all I could of the precious dew.
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To Blood's Creek Government Bore (38 miles from last camping place), sand ridges and very rough "gibber" country has to be cycled or walked over; but on nearing the creek the track greatly improves.
Thus far, gidea and mulga have been the trees most often met with, though the creeks have almost invariably been thickly lined with box and gum.
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Camped with the contractors for the bore, and overhauled the bicycle, though all the overhauling called for was the cleaning of the bearings. This I did by squirting kerosene through the lubricating holes, tilting the machine at a sharp angle, and revolving the wheels until the searching fluid had completed its cleansing work.