Near The Bluff Were Many Low, Stony Hills, With The Usual Small
Watercourses; In Them We Hunted High And Low For Water Until Darkness
Overtook Us.
To the North other similar hills could be seen, by my
reckoning a part of the Ernest Giles Range (Wells, 1892).
No doubt from
the distance these hills would look more imposing. Our camp was in lat.
27 degrees 9 minutes, long. 123 degrees 59 minutes. August 6th.
On August 7th we continued to search the hills, but had to leave them
without finding water. We had now been since July 29th without seeing
any, and in consequence of the ease with which we had, up to that date,
found water had not husbanded our supply as carefully as we might have
done, and now had to put ourselves on a very short allowance indeed. The
further we advanced the worse the country became, and the greater the
increase in temperature. Shortly after leaving the hills we came again on
to sandhills. About midday my hopes were high, as I cut the fresh tracks
of two black-fellows.
Warri, after a short examination, said, "Yesterday track water that way,"
pointing in the direction in which they were travelling; not that he could
possibly tell which way the water lay, and for all we knew they might have
just left it. However, we decided that better success would probably
attend us if we followed them forward. Soon several equally fresh tracks
joined the first ones, and not one of us doubted but that our present
discomforts would shortly be over.
"There must be water at the end of them," was the general opinion, and so
on we went gaily; Warri leading, and Charlie, who was an almost equally
good tracker, backing him up. After much twisting and turning, crossing
and recrossing of our own tracks, the footprints at last took a definite
direction, and a pad, beaten by perhaps a dozen feet, led away North-West
for two miles and never deviated. Any doubts as to Warri's correct
interpretation were now dispelled, and on we hurried, looking forward to
at least water for ourselves, and perhaps a drink for the camels. At full
speed through mulga scrub, over sand and stones, on which the tracks were
hardly visible, we came suddenly to an open patch of rock on the side of
a low ridge, and there in the centre of the flat rock lay before us a
fair-sized rock-hole - dry as a bone! - and all our visions of luxury for
our beasts and ourselves were ended.
Not only were we baulked of our water, but nothing but dead scrub
surrounded the rock, affording no feed for the camels, who had therefore
to be tied down. Leaving the rest to dig out the hole on the chance of
getting a drop, though it was evident that the natives had cleaned it out
nearly to the bottom, Warri and I started off to follow the tracks yet
further.
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