She had a long journey, and
Giles must have spoken truly when he said, "The Fair Maid was the gamest
horse I ever rode."
Giles's account of this desert shows that the last twenty years have
done little to improve it! He says "The flies were still about us in
persecuting myriads; . . . the country was, quite open, rolling along in
ceaseless undulations of sand, the only vegetation besides the
ever-abounding spinifex was a few bloodwood trees. The region is so
desolate that it is horrifying even to describe. The eye of God looking
down on the solitary caravan as it presents the only living object around
must have contemplated its appearance with pitying admiration, as it
forced its way continually onwards without pausing over this vast sandy
region, avoiding death only by motion and distance, until some oasis can
be found."
Not a cheerful description certainly! Every day's Northing, however,
would take us further in or out of this region, as the case might be, and
fervently we hoped for the latter. Whatever country was before us we were
firmly determined to push on, and by the grace of God to overcome its
difficulties. Again referring to Giles's journal I find that during this
part of his journey - viz., near the range where we were now camped - the
change of temperature during night and day was very excessive. At night
the thermometer registered 18 degrees F., whilst the heat in the daytime
was most oppressive.
