From A Ridge Higher Than The Others We Got The Only
Glimpse Of The Lake That Was Permitted Us By The Sandhills.
About two
o'clock, the gin, who had been making towards the Davenport Hills
(Tietkens), suddenly turned off and brought us to a little well in the
trough of two ridges - the usual wretched concern, yielding no more than
three bucketsful.
We worked far into the night. Having to observe for
latitude I stayed up last, and baled the well before going to rest,
leaving about two gallons in the bottom to allow it to settle before
morning. At daylight we heard loud howls and snarls coming apparently
from the centre of the earth. Further investigation disclosed a lean and
fierce-looking dingo down our well, which, in its frantic struggles to
get out, had covered up our little pool of water and made a horrible mess
of things. I never saw so savage-looking a brute, and, not feeling called
upon to assist it, I ended its troubles with a bullet - a kindly act,
which doubtless, on their return, gave a welcome supply of cheap meat to
the tribe who had only lately retired from the well, and also added to
our small store of dingo-tails, which (at 5 shillings each), so far as we
could see, would be our only means of deriving any profit from our
labours. I think we only got five, and they were lost!
Our position there was lat. 23 degrees 26 minutes, long. 128 degrees 42
minutes. The gin on showing us the well had been at once liberated, a
step which I now rather regretted - but one cannot be unkind to ladies,
even though they are black, naked savages, little better than beasts!
Remembering that she had pointed towards the hills ahead, I steered on
that course, and before long we came on the tracks of a man, woman, and
child, walking in the same direction. Here I saw a pure white spinifex
rat, leaping the tussocks in front of me, but of course had no means of
stopping it.
All that day we followed the tracks, over sandhills, samphire-flats,
through clumps of desert oak, past dry wells, from sunrise until sunset.
Warri and I were ahead for in tracking it is better to be well in
advance - riding and walking in turn until Highlander knocked up and had
to be led. Breaden and Godfrey had awful work behind to get the camels
along. At almost every sandhill one or other of them, usually Bluey,
would drop and refuse to budge an inch until forced by blows. How the
poor brutes strain, and strain again, up the steep, sandy slopes; painful
sight, heart-breaking work - but work done!
We crossed the Davenport Hills shortly before sunset and waited on the
other side for the main party, in case in the bad light and on the hard
rocks our tracks should be missed. As they came up, we heard a distant
call - a gin's - and presently the smoke from a fire was visible.
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