After a feed and a rest we again set to work, and again
the well fell in, but with less danger this time. It was clear that we
could go no further without some sort of caisson to hold back the fine
sand.
Charlie, with his usual ingenuity, constructed a rough but serviceable
one out of the wooden guards on the faces of our water-casks and the
tin-lined box lids that we had taken from Hubbe's camp at Mount Allott.
Instinct had told us right - they were of use!
By this means we reached a depth of thirty feet, first sinking the
caisson, then bailing the water, then continuing the timber and backing.
The hole so narrowed at the bottom that the water could only be obtained
by stretching out a stick at arm's length, on which was lashed a small
saucepan. It soon became clear that, labour as we would, the hole would
yield but little, so, leaving the rest to work, I took Warri, and
continued the search for the natives from the point where Breaden had
left their tracks. After a long, tedious day of tracking, we found
ourselves back at our own camp. The natives - two bucks, two gins, and
three picaninnies - travelled North to a dry well, and there split, the
men going one way and the rest another.
