We Saw No Smokes, No Spinifex Rats, No Natives, No Tracks But
Old Ones, And These Led Us Only To Dry Rock-Holes.
Time after time we
followed recent tracks from hole to hole, and met with no success;
sometimes we were just in time to be too late, and to see that the last
drops had been scraped up by the natives!
On June 6th we followed a fresh track, and found a hole containing thirty
gallons. June 7th and 8th, dense scrub. June 9th, open country, lake
country, gum tree flats, and magnificent green feed, the first we had
seen since leaving Sturt Creek. On our right high sandhills, whose
butt-ends in the distance had the appearance of a range of hills; on our
left thickets of mulga, and beyond, a sandstone range. Kangaroo tracks
were numerous, but none very fresh; these and the number of birds gave us
hopes of water. We must find some soon, or not one horse could survive.
Poor ponies! they were as thin as rakes, famished and hollow-eyed, their
ribs standing out like a skeleton's, a hat would almost hang on their
hip-joints - a sorry spectacle! All day we searched in vain, the animals
benefiting at least by the green herbage. Ours was a dismal camp now at
nights. What little water we could spare to the horses was but as a drop
in the ocean. All night long they shuffled about the camp, poking their
noses into every pack, overturning dishes and buckets, and, finding
nothing, stood with sinking heads as if in despair.
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