Though We Knew That The Blacks
Do Get Water From The Mallee Roots, And Though We Were In A Spot Where It
Was Clear They Had Done So Perhaps A Month Before, Yet Our Attempts At
Water-Finding Were Futile.
This kopi is peculiar soil to walk over; on the
surface there is a hard crust - once through this, one sinks nearly to the
knee; the camels of course, from their weight, go much lower.
On the night of the 23rd, we gave Tommy two gallons of water - not much of
a drink, but enough to make him tackle the mulga, and spinifex-tops, the
only available feed; none but West Australian brumbies could live on such
fare, and they will eat anything, like donkeys or goats. On the 24th there
was no change, a few quondongs affording a meal for the camels.
The next day we crossed more old native tracks and followed them for some
time without any sign of water being near. More tracks the following day,
fresher this time; but though doubtless there was water at the end of
them, for several reasons we did not follow them far: first, they were
leading south-west and we wished to go north; second, the quantity of
mallee root heaps, suggested the possibility that the natives could obtain
from them sufficient moisture to live upon. I think now that this is most
unlikely, and that roots are only resorted to when travelling or in time
of great need. However, at that time we were inclined to think it
probable, and though we might have sucked roots in place of a drink of tea
or water, such a source of supply was absolutely valueless to the camels
and pony.
On the 27th we sighted a hill dead ahead, which I named Mount Luck, and on
the southern side a nice little plain of saltbush and grass - a pleasant
and welcome change. Mount Luck is sheer on its south and east sides and
slopes gradually to the north-west; it is of desert sandstone, and from
its summit, nearly due east, can be seen an imposing flat-topped hill,
which I named Mount Douglas, after my old friend and companion, to the
north of this hill two quaint little pinnacles stand up above the scrub to
a considerable height.
Poor Tommy was now getting very weak and had to be dragged by the last
camel. I had not ridden him since the second day from the Spring; he was
famished and worn to a skeleton. His allowance of two gallons a night had
continued, which made a considerable hole in our supply, further
diminished by the necessity of giving him damper to eat. Poor little pony!
It was a cruel sight to see him wandering from pack to pack in camp,
poking his nose into every possible opening, and even butting us with his
head as if to call attention to his dreadful state, which was only too
apparent. "While there's life there's hope," and every day took us nearer
to water - that is if we were to get any at all! So long as we could do so,
we must take Tommy with us, who might yet be saved. This, however, was not
to be, for on the 28th we again encountered sand-ridges, running at right
angles to our course, and these proved too hard for the poor brave
brumby. About midday he at last gave in, and with glazed eyes and stiff
limbs he fell to the ground. Taking off the saddle he carried, I knelt by
his head for a few minutes and could see there was no hope. Poor, faithful
friend! I felt like a murderer in doing it, but I knew it was the kindest
thing - and finished his sufferings with a bullet. There on the ridge, his
bones will lie for many a long day. Brave Tommy, whose rough and unkempt
exterior covered a heart that any warhorse might have envied, had covered
135 miles, without feed worth mentioning, and with only eleven gallons of
water during that distance, a stage of nearly seven days' duration of very
hard travelling indeed, with the weather pretty sultry, though the nights
were cool. His death, however, was in favour of our water supply, which
was not too abundant. So much had been lost by the bags knocking about on
the saddle, by their own pressure against the side of the saddle, and by
evaporation, that we had to content ourselves with a quart-potful between
us morning and evening - by no means a handsome allowance.
On the 29th, after travelling eight hours through scrubs, we were just
about to camp when the shrill "coo-oo" of a black-fellow met our ears; and
on looking round we were startled to see some half-dozen natives gazing at
us. Jenny chose at that moment to give forth the howl that only cow-camels
can produce; this was too great a shock for the blacks, who stampeded
pell-mell, leaving their spears and throwing-sticks behind them. We gave
chase, and, after a spirited run, Luck managed to stop a man. A
stark-naked savage this, and devoid of all adornment excepting a
waist-belt of plaited grass and a "sporran" of similar material. He was in
great dread of the camels and not too sure of us. I gave him something to
eat, and, by eating some of it myself, put him more at ease. After various
futile attempts at conversation, in which Luck displayed great knowledge
of the black's tongue, as spoken a few hundred miles away near Eucla, but
which unfortunately was quite lost on this native, we at last succeeded in
making our wants understood. "Ingup," "Ingup," he kept repeating, pointing
with his chin to the North and again to the West. Evidently "Ingup" stood
for water; for he presently took us to a small granite rock and pointed
out a soak or rock-hole, we could not say which.
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