"We didn't come to warn you about that," I said. "Emu Bill of the Five

Mile said you had a few good horses----"

[Illustration: READY FOR THE RUSH.]

"Emoo Bill!" he howled.

"Same man," I admitted; "do you know him?"

"Does I know Emoo Bill? Well, I should smile. Why, me an' him were with

Hannan when that old skunk went back on us at the discovery ov

Kalgoorlie. Howly Moses! Poor owld Emoo! Horses, boys? Surely. I'm goin'

to use 'Prince' myself, but yez can have the two steeplechasers, 'Satan'

an' 'Reprieve.' I'll do that much for the Emoo; an' d----n the others

who expect the horses."

Events had certainly developed much more rapidly than I had anticipated;

neither Phil nor myself had entertained the idea of joining in the rush.

I had mentioned Emu Bill's message idly, never dreaming it would produce

such a prompt effect. Tom Doyle was a noted sporting man in the

district, a second Harry Lorrequer in a small way, and provided he was

not drunk, he could break in even the most unruly horse when all others

had failed.

The noise on the street was now becoming terrific; small armies of

miners bearing picks and stakes were arriving from the local diggings,

and buggies and horses were being hurriedly equipped.

"We'll have a dhrop av the crater first," said Tom, noting the

disturbance outside, "and then we'll saddle up."

Shortly afterwards we emerged from the hotel courtyard mounted on horses

that were the pride of the countryside. Tom rode "Prince," a

powerful-limbed, coal-black cob of sixteen hands; Phil bestrode "Satan,"

a fiery Australian brumby; and I clung to "Reprieve," an impetuous

high-stepping bay. "Keep at my heels, boys," cried Tom, as he started

off at a canter, and it was at once evident that if we could keep at his

heels we should be in at the death without a doubt. It was slightly

after three o'clock, and when we reached the scene of excitement we

found the street absolutely blocked. There must have been several

thousand men packed like sardines right across the broad passage, and on

the outskirts of this vast crowd over a hundred cyclists stood ready;

beyond them still, a line of horsemen were drawn up, in numbers

exceeding a regimental squadron.

Scores of buggies and other spidery racing contrivances were scattered

near at hand, and extended far down the side street leading towards the

post-office. It was indeed an extraordinary sight. We formed up with the

other horsemen, Tom's approach being hailed with loud cheers, for every

one knew the dare-devil Irishman.

"You'll get a broken neck this time, Tom," cried one of his

acquaintances cheerfully.

"I didn't know Prince was broken in to the saddle yet, Tom," said

another.

"No more he isn't," replied Tom, "but he's broken enough for me. Stand

clear, bhoys."

And then the black charger reared and bucked and curvetted wildly, while

its rider kicked his feet out of the stirrups and kept his seat like a

Centaur. Few of the horses present had been much used before, and they

now became restive also, and pranced dangerously. Phil and I had a bad

five minutes. We did not know the nature or temper of our mounts; and

besides, neither of us cared to place much reliance on our stirrup

leathers, they looked frayed and wofully fragile.

"If they _go_ with yez, bhoys," advised Tom, "give 'em their heads.

They'll get tired soon enough. Thar's lots o' room in this country."

"Oh, Lord!" groaned Phil, "what a comfortable prospect we have before

us! My back is about broken with this kicking brute already."

The vast assembly was now becoming impatient. The stated time, 3.30,

had been reached, and as yet there was no sign of the Reverend Father

who had been the cause of the extraordinary meeting. Then just as

threats and curses were being muttered, a pale-faced young man in

clerical garb made his appearance on the balcony, and a deathlike

stillness reigned in an instant. In a few words the priest explained his

strange position, but he was rudely interrupted many times.

"It's gettin' late. Where did the nugget come from?" the rougher spirits

roared. The young man hesitated for a moment.

"The nugget was found on the Lake Gwinne track," he said, "at a depth of

three feet----"

With a long, indescribable roar the multitude scattered, and the

speaker's concluding words were drowned in the din. "Hold on!" cried

Tom, as Phil and I swung round to follow the main rush, "the d----d

idiots didn't wait to hear how _far_ it was from Lake Gwinne." There was

scarcely a dozen of us left; the breaking-up had been as the melting of

summer snows.

"And the position is two miles from the lake," repeated the young man,

wearily. Then Tom gave his horse a free rein and we followed suit.

Lake Gwinne was a salt-crusted depression in the sand surface, about

five miles distant from the township, and in a very little frequented

vicinity. The so-called track towards it was nothing more than a winding

camel pad through the bush, and had the miners stopped to think, they

would have at once realised how insufficient was the data given. With

our additional information we were slightly better off; nevertheless I

was not at all inclined to grow enthusiastic over our chances. The

district mentioned had been very thoroughly prospected many months

before, and with little success. "I think Father Long has been hoaxed

after all," I said to Phil, as we crashed through scrub and over

ironstone gullies in the wake of the main body, which we were rapidly

overtaking. But he could not reply; his horse was clearing the brush in

great bounds, and as it had the bit between its teeth, my companion

evidently had his work cut out for him.

A few yards ahead Tom's great charger kept up a swinging gallop, and

every now and then that jolly roysterer would turn in the saddle and

encourage us by cheery shouts. We soon passed the men who were hurrying

on foot, but the buggies and the cycles were still in front. The sand

soil throughout was so tightly packed that it formed an ideal cycle

path, but the sparse eucalypti dotting its surface were dangerous

obstacles, and made careful steering a necessity. The goldfield cyclist,

however, is a reckless individual, and rarely counts the cost of his

adventurousness. Soon we came near to the cyclist army; the spokes of

their wheels scintillated in the sunlight as they scudded over the open

patches. But one by one they dropped out, the twisted wheels showing how

they had tried conclusions with flinty boulders, or collided with one or

other of the numberless mallee stumps protruding above the ground.

On one occasion Tom gave a warning shout, and I saw his horse take a

flying leap over a struggling cyclist who had got mixed up in the parts

of his machine. I had just time to swerve my steed to avoid a calamity,

and then we crashed on again at a mad gallop, evading the bicycles as

best we could, and sometimes clearing those which had come to grief at a

bound. It was in truth a wild and desperate race.

When the last of the cyclists had been left behind, and the swaying,

dust-enshrouded buggies and one or two solitary horsemen were still in

front, Tom turned again.

"Let her go now, bhoys," he said, "there's a clear field ahead. Whoop

la! Tally ho!"

For the remainder of that gallop I had little time to view my

surroundings; I dug my heels into "Reprieve's" flanks, and he stretched

out his long neck and shot forward like an arrow from the bow. Buggies

and miscellaneous vehicles were overtaken and left in the rear. Various

horsemen would sometimes range alongside for a trial of speed, but

"Reprieve" outdistanced them all.

"It's Doyle's 'Reprieve,'" one of the disgusted riders cried; "an'

there's 'Satan,' an', fire an' brimstone! here's Doyle hissel'."

Tom's weight was beginning to tell on his noble animal, which had given

the lead to my horse who carried the lightest load; but with scarcely a

dozen lengths between us we thundered past the foremost racing buggy,

and were quickly dashing down towards Lake Gwinne, whose sands now

shimmered in the near distance. We were first in the rush after all.

Suddenly we came upon a recently-excavated shaft with a dismantled

windlass lying near, and with one accord we drew up and dismounted.

"If this is where the Sacred Nugget came out of, it looks d----d bad

that no one is about," growled Tom, throwing the reins of his horse over

a mulga sapling and looking around doubtfully. It was clearly the

vicinity indicated by Father Long, and we lost no time in marking off

our lots in the direction we considered most promising. We had barely

taken these preliminary precautions when horsemen and buggies began to

arrive in mixed order, and in a short time the ground all the way down

to the lake was swarming with excited goldseekers.

"I'm blest if I like the look o' things at all, at all," mused Tom, and

I was inclined to take a similar view of matters, for a more

barren-looking stretch of country would have been hard to find. Then,

again, by examining the strata exposed in the abandoned shaft we could

form a fair estimate of the nature of the supposed gold-bearing

formation; and after Phil and I had made a minute survey of all

indications shown, we came to the conclusion that our ground, acquired

after such a hard ride, was practically worthless and not likely to

repay even the labour of sinking in it.

The hundreds of others who had pegged out beyond us were not so quickly

convinced, and they announced their intention of sinking to bedrock if

they "busted" in the attempt. About an hour after our arrival at the

Sacred Nugget Patch, Phil and I started back for the Five-Mile Flat,

satisfied to have taken part in so strange a rush, yet quite certain

that the Sacred Nugget had been unearthed in some other district, or

that the entire concern had been a stupendous hoax. Tom Doyle decided to

camp on the so-called "Patch" all night, without any special reason for

doing so beyond holding the ground in case some fool might want to buy

it for flotation purposes, as had been done often before with useless

properties.

When we reached home that evening we were tired indeed, and in spite of

ourselves we felt rather disappointed at the unsuccessful issue of the

much-advertised stampede.

"Ye've had a gran' time," said Mac regretfully, when Phil told of how he

and "Satan" came in first after a most desperate race.

"I'm glad I didn't go with you," said Bill. "I hope I can resist

temptation in the way o' rushes until I is ready to sail back homeward."

"It would certainly be better," I allowed, "than to give up a proved

property for a miserable sham."

As it happened, the famous rush had indeed proved but a worthless

demonstration. Not a grain of gold was discovered near the Sacred Patch;

and after much labour had been expended there, the disgusted miners

abandoned their shafts in a body.

[Illustration: A BREAKDOWN IN THE RUSH.]

The mystery connected with the alleged nugget was never explained. Every

bank in the Colony denied having seen it, and its supposed finders did

not again appear on the fields. Father Long must have been cruelly

victimised, of that there was no doubt, for no one could for a moment

believe that he had perjured himself. He was justly known as a

thoroughly honourable man and a conscientious teacher. Even the most

suspicious mind could not accuse him in any way. And he, the unfortunate

dupe of a pair of unscrupulous rogues, did not long survive the severe

shock given to an already feeble system. He died some months later, and

with him went the secret, if any, of the Great Sacred Nugget.

INTO THE "NEVER NEVER" LAND

A few weeks after the Sacred Nugget rush had taken place we lowered our

flag at the Five-Mile Flat, having come to an end of the auriferous

workings within our boundaries. I had meanwhile succeeded in purchasing

from an Afghan trader two powerful camels and five horses, with the

intention of using them on our projected inland expedition. The horses,

I feared, would prove of little service, but for the early part of the

journey they might relieve the camels somewhat by carrying the various

tinned foodstuffs necessary for a long sojourn in the desert. These

"various" stores vary but little notwithstanding their distinguishing

labels, and the bushman's vocabulary, always expressive, contains for

them a general title, namely, "tinned dog."

Tinned dog and flour are, indeed, the sum total of the Australian

explorer's needs. The traveller in the great "Never Never" land is not

an epicure by any means, and should he be burdened by over-æsthetic

tastes they quickly vanish when "snake sausage" or "bardie pie" has

appeared on his _menu_ for some days!

Phil had decided to accompany us, and as he had shared our fortunes

since our entry into the country, I was by no means loath to accept of

his services, knowing him to be a highly trustworthy comrade, and an

invaluable addition to our little party he proved.

It was hard to say goodbye to our old associates of the camp fire; I

knew they would not remain much longer at the same diggings, which were

showing signs of playing out in almost every claim, and it was not

likely we should ever meet again.

Old Tom was much affected; he had been our near neighbour so long, and

under the happiest circumstances of his wandering life, so he said, and

now we were going back into the "Never Never" country, and would never

see him more. I was not quite certain whether Old Tom meant that we

should most probably leave our bones in the central deserts, or whether

his words were due to an extreme sentimentalism on his part, but I

preferred to believe the latter.

"We'll call and see you at Adelaide some of these times, Tom," I said,

while Stewart and Mac were bidding him an affectionate farewell, but he

only shook his head mournfully, and would not be comforted.

As for Emu Bill, he had considerable faith in our enterprise, and would,

I believe, have come with us had I said the word. He was, however, a

true specimen of the independent bushman, and unwilling to demonstrate

his wishes.

"Durn it all, boys," said he with vigour, "I is not an old man yet, an'

tho' I knows you aire a big enuff party without me to get through the

mallee country, I guess I'll coast it round to Derby in time to jine you

in a Leopolds trip."

"I thought you were going home after this rise, Bill," I said

quizzically, not surprised to find his early resolutions wavering.

"I'll mebbe see you 'cross the Leopolds first," he replied gravely. "I

calc'late I knows that bit o' kintry better'n any white man."

"Goodbye, boys," roared Nuggety Dick and his satellites, waving their

shovels from their distant claims, and the echoes were taken up from

end to end of the lead, for where I was wholly unknown Mac and Stewart

had endeared themselves by devices peculiar to that crafty pair. It was

pleasant to receive such a genial send-off, and though I am not as a

rule affected by farewell greetings, yet on this occasion I felt

strangely moved. The camels and horses stood ready, laden with the great

water-bags and unwieldy mining machinery, and Phil was stroking the mane

of one of the horses in listless fashion.

"It's a fairly long trip for you to start on, Phil," I said, noting the

far-away expression on his usually bright face.

"I was thinking of _other_ things," he answered quietly.

"Gee up, Misery!" cried Mac, cracking his long whip.

"Gee up, Slavery!" echoed Stewart. And we started out, heading N.N.E.,

bound for the land where the pelican builds its nest.

For the first few miles we crossed the gridiron-like tracks connecting

the numerous camps and settlements lying out from the main township of

Kalgoorlie; but soon these signs of civilisation vanished, and in the

early afternoon our course lay over a wildering scrubland, with

iron-shot sand-patches here and there among the stunted shrubs. The

camels, which we had named "Slavery" and "Misery," led the trail. They

were, indeed, wiry animals, and as I paced beside them, noting their

almost ludicrously leisurely tread, I could not help remarking on the

vast amount of latent power indicated in every movement of their

rubber-like bodies. "Slavery" was a patient and gentle animal, and

marched along meekly under his load of full seven hundred pounds, but

"Misery" soon displayed a somewhat fiery temper, and before our first

day's journey was completed we were compelled to adopt stern measures

with the recalcitrant brute.

The horses formed a sad-looking line behind the sturdier beasts of

burden, and they would cheerfully have forced along at a speedier rate

than the progress of the camels allowed. Among them were two

high-spirited animals, which we named "Sir John" and "Reprieve," while

the three others we dubbed simply "Sin," "Sand," and "Sorrow."

We camped that evening just twelve miles from our starting-point, and

yet it seemed as if we were already beyond the reach of civilisation.

Not a trace of a white man's presence was visible anywhere, and for the

first night we missed the crashing rattle of the ever-working batteries.

A deathlike stillness filled the air, broken only by the startled scream

of the carrion crow or the weird double note of the mopoke.

"There's any amount of room for prospecting here," hazarded Phil, gazing

around, after the horses and camels had been safely picketed. Which was

true; yet who could have the heart to sink a proving shaft amid such

inhospitable surroundings?

"If we locate an outcrop, boys," I said, "we may trace it up, but

otherwise we can only test the surface sands with the dryblower."

It was but vaguely known what kind of country lay far to eastward of us.

Many thousands of square miles had never been crossed by any traveller,

and strange rumours were often circulated among the miners of the

various outposts regarding the extraordinary riches of the vast "Never

Never" land. It was even predicted that a great inland river flowed

northwards towards the Gulf of Carpentaria; how far it flowed before

sinking in the arid sands was a matter for conjecture, but it was

confidently supposed to drain fertile valleys, and to be flanked by

noble mountain ranges rich in gold and precious gems. It was a rosy

enough picture, surely, but one which, unfortunately, no explorer had

yet succeeded in bearing out.

"It's a gran' thing," said Mac thoughtfully, when supper was over, and

we were reclining on our blankets gazing at the stars, and listening to

the tinkling of the camel bells. "It's a vera gran' thing," he repeated,

"tae be alane aince mair, an' wi' the bonnie stars shinin' brichtly

abune----"

"Here's a centipede!" roared Stewart, interrupting his comrade's

moralising.

"Then pit it in yer pocket, ma man," was the calm reply; and he resumed

where he had left off: "Ay, it's a gran' thing, Phil, tae ken that ye're

traivellin' in new country, breathin' the bonnie pure air. Noo if ye had

been wi' me an' Stewart oot in Alaskie----"

"Spin me a yarn, Mac," said Phil, drawing his blanket closer, while

Stewart started up in sheer amazement.

Mac was visibly affected; he took his pipe from his mouth and gazed at

the camp fire blankly for some time without speaking. "Ye're a guid an'

thochtfu' man, Phil," he said at length with great earnestness, "an'

A'll gie ye a rale bonnie story...."

I will pass but briefly over the early days of our march. Our track at

first led through the Murchison district, for I wished to make a

mid-northerly latitude before steering east; but after leaving the

Gascoyne Channel the country traversed was of the most dreary nature,

and similar to that around the more desolate southern gold camps.

Several soaks were found opportunely when the water-bags were becoming

dangerously flat, and our progress continued uneventfully for over a

week, but then the formation of the land-surface began to change rapidly

for the worse. The dwarfed eucalypti became sparser and sparser, and in

their room appeared bushy clumps of saltbush and tufts of spiky spinifex

grass. The hard ironsand soil, too, gave place to a white yielding

gravel which hindered our advance greatly. The camels, certainly, were

not seriously inconvenienced, but the staggering horses sank over the

fetlocks at each step, and stumbled forward painfully, while we

floundered alongside, almost blinded by the rising iron dust which

filled our ears and nostrils.

[Illustration: OUR LAST VIEW OF THE FIVE-MILE WORKING.]

For two days we crossed this disheartening waste, fearing greatly for

the safety of the horses, which showed signs of collapse. No water had

been located for three days before entering upon this miserable tract,

and assuredly none promised on its parched expanse. The horses--poor

animals!--fared rather ill in consequence, for we dared not give them

much of our rapidly-diminishing fluid supply. On the morning of the

third day, however, our course led across slightly-improved country, so

that better progress was made, and our chances of finding water were

decidedly more encouraging.

At noon we entered a belt of scrub, and soon were crashing through a

miniature forest of stunted mallee; but this state of affairs was not

destined to last, for we could see in the distance, at a slightly higher

altitude, the open plain extending back into the horizon. At this point

Phil considered the indications very favourable for water, and we

decided to make a temporary camp, and search the district thoroughly

before proceeding. We were preparing to unload the camels, when Stewart,

who had gone a little way ahead, came rushing back in great excitement.

"Niggers!" he hoarsely whispered. Looking up I saw quite an assembly of

stalwart bucks directly in our course, and scarcely two hundred yards in

front. Some bushes partially hid them from our view, and they had

evidently not yet observed us. They were well equipped with spears and

waddies; probably they were out on a hunting expedition, and, if so, it

boded well for the resources of the district.

While we hesitated, debating on our best plan of action, they saw us,

and gave vent to a series of shrill yells, yet were apparently undecided

whether to resent our presence or escape while they might. Then a shower

of spears whizzed through the air, but fell short, and buried their

heads in the sand at our feet. We were just out of range of these

missiles, luckily enough. My companions were not disposed to tolerate

such tactics, and Mac discharged his gun, loaded with small shot, at the

hostile band. They waited no longer, but made a wild rush into the

densest part of the scrub, and were quickly lost to sight. Then we

proceeded onwards warily, whilst far in the distance the branches

crackled and broke before the fleeing horde. The scene of their stand

was littered with fragments of brushwood, and the dying embers of a fire

smouldered in the centre of a small clearing close by. All around,

shields, spears, and boomerangs lay scattered as they had been thrown

when their owners took to flight. The sight was curiously strange and

impressive.

My usually loquacious companions had been wonderfully silent during the

last day or so, owing, perhaps, to the uninspiring nature of our

environment, but now Mac succeeded in launching into a lengthy diatribe,

in which he consigned the blacks generally to a very warm climate

indeed.

"At the same time," said he, "we shidna forget that such inceedents

serve a vera usefu' purpose."

"They seemed rale dacent black buddies," reflectively murmured Stewart.

"And they entertained the laudable desire of puncturing us with 'rale

dacent' spears," Phil added shortly.

The camels stood patiently within the clearing, with their long necks

outstretched, and their heads moving up and down with the regularity of

automatons; the horses straggled behind, gasping feebly.

"We'd better make a halt right here, boys," I said; "the horses seem

played out completely." So while Mac and Stewart were engaged in the

work of unloading them, Phil and I made a minute survey of our

surroundings. A huge breakwind guarded the circular space, and behind it

a well-padded track led backwards into a richly-foliaged dell. Creeping

plants and luxurious ferns grew in profession around the base of a

single lime-tree which found root in the hollow, and a long wiry kind of

grass flourished abundantly under its genial shade.

"I'll investigate the cause of such unusual vegetation," Phil said,

stepping forward.

"Look out for snakes," I warned; then turned to assist Mac in raising

poor "Sorrow," who had rolled over on the ground, pack-saddle and all.

"The puir beastie's feenished," Mac said sorrowfully, "an' nae wunner."

"Here's anither ane," wailed Stewart, and I looked up to see him wildly

endeavouring to keep "Sin" from falling on the top of sundry cooking

utensils. It was plain that two at least of the horses could go no

further if fortune did not speedily favour us.

"This is the deevil's ain countrie," groaned Mac helplessly, and for the

moment I felt utterly disheartened as I watched the poor animals

convulsively gasping on the sand.

A shout from Phil drew my attention. "There's a spring here, boys," he

cried gleefully from the lime-tree hollow.

It was a welcome discovery; I had almost despaired of finding water in

the vicinity. "We'll camp for the day," I said, "and give our pack train

a much-needed rest."

The spring was a small one and beautifully clear; its waters gurgled

gently through a fissure in a white kaolin formation, and the surplus

flow was absorbed by the spreading roots of the climbing growths

mentioned. It was half hidden by an outjutting boulder, and further

cunningly screened from view by a heavy clump of overhanging grass.

Evidently the blacks were in the habit of camping here frequently; the

breakwind might have been erected for one night's shelter, but the track

towards the well had been long in use.

"I hope our landlords do not visit us to-night," Phil remarked, as we

gazed at each other through the smoke of our camp fire some little time

later.

"It wud be a vera onfort'nate happenin'," Mac grunted placidly, drawing

his gun closer.

"They're mebbe cannibals," suggested Stewart uneasily.

"We'll keep a watch in case of accident," I said; "but I don't expect

they'll give us any trouble."

But Stewart was still uneasy. "Their spears ha' an ex-tra-or'-nar'

bluid-thirsty look," he grumbled again, examining the double-barbed

weapons he had collected, "an' I hae nae faith whitever in they

black-skinned heathen."

However, the night passed without alarm, though we kept a careful watch

and were ready for an attack should any have been attempted.

We continued our march next morning, and in less than half an hour had

emerged into open country, but now the surface soil was of a hard,

gravelly nature, liberally strewn with the iron pebbles so abundant in

more southerly latitudes. Straggling growths of mallee and mulga spread

everywhere, and at their roots reptiles and numberless nameless pests

seemed to abide. Black snakes writhed across our path, centipedes

squirmed over our boots, iguanas in myriads started before our

approach, and flying creatures with hard, scaly wings rose from the

shadeless branches and dashed into our faces. Flies in dense clouds

assailed us, causing indescribable torture, and the diminutive sand

insect was also extremely active, seeking into our socks and ragged

clothing despite our most stringent precautions.

For over a week we journeyed across this dreary wilderness, nor did we

once observe a break in the horizon's even curve; the weather,

meanwhile, being of sweltering description. Then a dim haze towards the

north-east gradually outlined into a well-defined mountain range as we

advanced, and the country in general took on a more irregular

appearance. We were now nearing the line of the explorer Wells's

northward march, and I altered our course slightly in order to intersect

it at a point where a good water supply was charted, for four days had

elapsed since we had last discovered any trace of moisture.

All that day we forced onwards wearily, the sun beating down upon us

mercilessly the while. No more desolate tract could be imagined than

that which lies in these latitudes: the motionless mallee and mulga

shrubs, the glistening beady surface over which we dragged our feet, the

quivering heat haze that so distorted our vision, and the solemn

stillness--the awful stillness of a tomb--all tended to overwhelm the

mind. A broken range of sandstone hills loomed clearly out of the haze

early in the afternoon, directly in our track, and I again shifted the

course so as to round their southern extremity. Towards the south the

sand wastes extended far as the eye could reach, but east and north many

mouldering peaks now interrupted our view.

We found the spring without difficulty; it contained about forty gallons

of muddy water, over which a thick green scum had gathered, and it was

simply moving with animal life. Many bones of doubtful origin lay

heaped near to it; some were probably the remains of kangaroos killed by

the natives, of whom there were numerous signs in the neighbourhood, but

Phil insisted that not a few human bones were among the bleaching mass.

At the bottom of the spring the complete vertebræ of several snakes and

similar reptiles almost wholly covered the chalky, impervious base, but

how these came to be there was a matter beyond my comprehension.

"Most probably," said Phil, "the natives like a snaky flavour in the

water."

"It mak's it extra paleetable tae them, nae doot," groaned Mac with a

shudder, "but I hae nae parshiality fur crawly bastes, even when they're

deid."

Stewart had by this time acquired a philosophical turn of mind. "What's

the guid o' growlin', Mac?" he snorted. "There's mebbe waur than that

tae come yet."

That we were in a district favoured by the blacks was very certain,

although we had not yet observed any of the dusky savages; three or four

breakwinds sheltered a space close to the spring, and the ground was

black with burnt-out smokes and charred logs. The water, notwithstanding

its pronounced medicinal flavour, was a great improvement on the fetid

solutions of the various soaks we had encountered, and we decided to

camp by it for several days, so as to test the auriferous resources of

the surface sands, which looked rather promising, and also to give us

time to make some much-needed repairs in our tattered wardrobe.

The results of our experiments with the supposed auriferous country

proved too insignificant for more than a passing mention here. A few

colours were obtained, but nothing to give confidence to even the most

unambitious goldseeker. Rather disconsolately we prepared to resume our

march in a more N.E. direction, and three days later we started on our

altered course. The eternal sameness of things in the Australian

interior makes daily records of progress unentertaining reading, and

though each day's travel comes back to my mind now as I write with

painful vividness, yet it but cries out in the same strain as its

predecessor and follower, "Sand, sand, everlasting sand."

For many miserable days and weeks we struggled eastward, sometimes

deviating to the north or south in vain endeavour to escape unusually

deterrent belts of the frightful wastes now so familiar to us all.

Sometimes we would locate a soak or claypan when least expecting such a

find, and again, we might be reduced to almost certain disaster before

the water-bags were replenished at some providential mudhole in our

course. I do not wish to enlarge upon the miseries of our journeyings;

we took these willingly on ourselves at the start, hoping for a

compensating reward in the shape of valuable knowledge; and is not

experience always priceless? Knowledge we did gain, it is true, but not

of the kind we had over-fondly anticipated; still, we had not yet

reached the planned limit of our expedition, and who knew what might

await us in the dim, shadowy mountain that stretched its cumbering

height far on the eastern horizon?

We had sighted this landmark nearly a week before, but having been more

than usually zealous in our search for the precious metal among the

outcropping iron formations now frequently encountered, our rate of

travel had been reduced to a few miles each day. Two of the horses were

still left us; the last of the ill-fated three had succumbed from sheer

exhaustion nearly fifty miles back, but "Sir John" and "Reprieve,"

though no longer the high-spirited animals they once were, still carried

their jolting burdens of tinned meats, flour, and extracts, though

their steps were daily becoming weaker, and their bright eyes clouding

in a manner that foretold the worst. The camels stubbornly paced ahead,

with the great water-bags tantalisingly lapping their tough hides, and

the miscellaneous mining implements perched on their hollow backs; they

had already served us well and nobly, and I devoutly hoped their vast

energies would bear them over the worst that lay before us.

[Illustration: TAKING OUR POSITION.]

EL DORADO!

We were now close on the 125th degree of longitude, which I had marked

as the limit of our eastward course, and my faith in more northerly

latitudes was so little, indeed, that I dreaded making any change in our

direction of travel.

"If we don't strike gold within the next couple of days," said Phil,

"there isn't much likelihood of our being overburdened with wealth at

the end of the trip."

Mac, who was pulling the nose rope of the leading camel, at once lifted

up his voice in protest.

"For Heaven's sake be mair pleasant wi' yer remarks, Phil," he cried. "I

was calculatin' on goin' home like a young millionaire----"

"You'll need to calculate again, then, Mac," interrupted Phil, "for I

don't think we'll get a red cent out of the ground on this journey."

But the complainer was not yet satisfied.

"What's the guid o' bein' a golologist?" he demanded wrathfully. "I

thocht----"

What he thought remained unspoken, for at that moment we heard a

scramble behind, and looking round we saw the doughty Mac and his

compatriot Stewart engaged in fierce conflict.

"I saw it first, ye red-heided baboon," roared the former, with

remarkable fluency of expression.

"The fact o' seeing it is naething--naething at a'," returned the other

with great complacency, "It's sufficient to say that I hae got it."

The camels, feeling the strain of guidance relaxed, had come to a halt,

and were now seemingly taking an interest in the squabble. It was a rare

thing for them to be left to their own devices, even for a moment. Time

is precious when crossing these vast salt tracts, and midday stoppages

in the blazing sun are dangerous.

"What are you two quarrelling about now?" I asked sternly, feeling in no

gentle mood with the hinderers. Mac's face assumed an intensely

aggrieved expression, but he held his peace, and Stewart calmly

displayed a small rounded pebble between his finger and thumb,

announcing blandly that it alone was the cause of the disturbance.

"It's a bonnie stane," said he, gazing at his treasure admiringly.

"An' it's mine by richt," howled Mac.

I was about to lecture the pair strongly on their foolish behaviour over

what I supposed to be an ordinary fragment of white quartz, when Phil

uttered an exclamation, and, rushing back, snatched the pebble from

Stewart's hand and proceeded to examine it closely. So eager was his

scrutiny that in a moment we were clustered round him, awaiting his

verdict with extreme interest.

"What do you make of it?" said he at length, handing the stone to me.

"Weather-worn quartz," I replied promptly. He shook his head.

"We'll work it out in specific gravity later," he said, with the air of

one who was sure of his ground; "but I will bet you this half of a shirt

I am wearing that it's a genuine ruby, and there must be more of them in

the vicinity."

"Hurroo!" yelled Mac and Stewart in unison, prancing around delightedly,

and for the moment Phil's delinquencies were forgotten in the tribute of

praise that my worthy henchmen generously accorded the "golologist."

They ended by making him a present of the fateful gem, though Mac

somewhat spoilt the effect of the gift by soliloquising rather loudly--

"It'll be well to propeetiate the golologist, Stewart, my man, for he's

nae sae stupid as he looks, efter a'."

Soon after we renewed our march, much uplifted at the thought of

acquiring treasure even more valuable than gold; but though we kept a

sharp look-out on the ground surface, the early afternoon passed without

any further coloured pebbles being discovered, whereat Mac again

commenced to revile the country with his customary eloquence.

"That ruby wis a delooshun," he asserted stoutly. "Some o' the El Dorado

fairies must ha'e put it there on purpose to deceive us, an' noo they'll

be having grand fun at oor expense."

"Hustle along old Misery, and don't moralise," I interjected hastily.

"Moralise?" he echoed. "Me moralise? No vera likely. I never dae such a

thing. Gee up, Meesery, an' stop winkin' at me this meenit."

But the mention of El Dorado had aroused in Stewart a strain of

recollection, and as he paced beside his cumbrous charge he made several

ineffectual attempts to recite some ancient verses as learned in the

days of his youth.

"I canna mind the poetry o' it," he broke out at last, "but the story

was real bonnie; it telt hoo a warrior went out to seek for El Dorado,

and--and----" Then his memory came back to him, and he chanted out

dismally--

"And as his strength

Failed him at length,

He met a pilgrim shadow.

'Shadow,' said he,

'Where can it be,

This land of El Dorado?'

'Over the mountains

Of the moon,

Down the valley of the Shadow,

Ride, boldly ride,'

The Shade replied,

'If you seek for El Dorado.'"

"Which is," grunted Mac, "which is, metaphorically speaking, preceesely

what we are doing. Gee up, Meesery, and dinna look sae weary-like."

"Our specimen must have been shed from that mountain," I repeated, when

we lay down in our blankets at night.

The morning dawned clear and beautifully calm. The sky was cloudless,

save where in the east a billowy sea of gold marked where the sun had

risen. The leafless branches of the mulga shrubs growing near quivered

in the rising rays, and the long sand-track ahead sparkled as the waters

of a gilded ocean. But now, through the dispelling haze the firm outline

of a precipitous mountain became clearly visible only a few miles ahead.

In our eager search on the preceding afternoon we had not observed the

nearness of the welcome sentinel, or probably it was that the darkening

sky in the early evening had shut it from our view. There was certainly

no doubt about its presence now, and we hailed it right gladly as we

watched it loom out of the dissolving mists.

"It's mebbe a mirage," suggested Stewart apprehensively.

"Nary miradge," retorted Mac; "it's El Dorado, that's what it is. Just

what we were looking for."

Five minutes later I was ogling the sun with my sextant, while Phil

stood by with the trusty chronometer in his hand to note the time of my

observations.

"125 degrees 17 minutes east longitude," he announced, after a rough

calculation, "which makes the mountain about ten miles off."

"'Shadow,' said he,

'Whaur can it be,

This land o' El Dorado?'"

Stewart trolled out lustily as he set about the preparation of the

morning meal. About eight o'clock we were ready to start, which showed

unusual alacrity in our movements. The camels, too, seemed imbued with

fresh life, and allowed themselves to be loaded without their customary

protests.

"I've never seen Meesery sae tractable," Mac said in amazement, patting

the trembling nostrils of the leading camel. "I wonder what's gaun to

happen?"

"We're all ready," sung out Phil blithely, and I gave the usual signal

for the advance.

"Gee up, Meesery," grunted Mac.

"Aince mair, Slavery," implored Stewart, and we set out for the mountain

at an unusually lively pace. The forenoon passed without event, and so

speedy had been our progress that our midday halt was made amongst the

straggling timber belt which feathered the base of the mountain. We lost

no time in making ready for the ascent, and within an hour after our

arrival we had hobbled the camels and were starting out on our journey

of discovery.

For the first half-hour we made fairly good headway through the

straggling belt of eucalypti covering the lower slopes, then we emerged

on a treeless, boulder-strewn expanse, on which the sun scintillated

with burning intensity. Over this scorched area we clambered as best we

could. The sharp rubble cut through our boots, and the glistening rocks,

hot as a fiery furnace, burnt our clutching hands. Our mountain

exploration was surely becoming less of a picnic than we had

anticipated. Directly above, a solid mass of basalt reared its head,

gaunt and bare, but when we came to the edge of the glass-like cap, we

hesitated--we might as well have attempted to cross a field of molten

metal. From this point various dry channels tore down the face of the

hill, radiating outwards into the plain. They were so silted up with

rock fragments and ironsand as to be scarcely perceptible, but Phil's

trained eye at once noted their significance.

"Ages ago," said he, "those gullies were filled with rushing torrents,

which goes to prove that a crater lake existed on the top of the

mountain."

He walked over to one of the ancient beds and scraped among the drift of

black sand conglomeration. At once several water-worn specimens of

quartzite were uncovered, and of these over fifty per cent bore the

characteristic markings of the ruby.

"Fill your pockets with these, Mac," he said quietly. "They should be

worth considerably more than their weight in gold."

Prolonged travelling in Western Australia does not tend to develop

enthusiasm, and the extraordinary find so unexpectedly made was greeted

by no extravagant manifestations of delight. Relief rather than joy was

ours at that moment, for in one important sense at least our quest

seemed surely ended.

"If we can find water in the vicinity we'll camp at the foot of the hill

for a few days, boys," I announced with much satisfaction. "Meanwhile we

had better explore a little further, and see what the country looks like

from the summit."

[Illustration: A NATIVE CAMP.]

But Mac and Stewart were already busily engaged collecting specimens,

which they stowed in every nook and corner of their ragged garments.

"Come along, you gloating misers!" cried Phil, as he and I started to

negotiate the last stiff climb.

"There's nae time like the present," growled Mac oracularly, pursuing

his congenial task with supreme content.

"I'm o' the same opeenion," spluttered Stewart, who had turned his mouth

into a receptacle for the finest gems in his collection. So we crawled

over the smooth climaxing dome alone. Our surprise was great when on

reaching the top we found ourselves on the edge of a small circular area

that depressed ever so slightly towards the centre, providing a space

which looked remarkably like an ordinary circus ring. This impression

was much heightened by the fact that a well-marked path seemed to have

been worn around the periphery; but through what agency this had been

done I could not well imagine. We stood surveying the odd arena, filled

with wonder.

"It is one of Nature's strange tricks," I said, after a considerable

silence.

Phil looked doubtful, but he did not speak. Then we made a further

discovery. The saucer-shaped hollow was graven out of a solid lava

formation, but exactly over the point of its deepest dip several

crumbling branches lay strewn. Of a certainty they had not come there of

their own accord, and at once we were overwhelmed with dire misgivings.

"It means that there are some native tribes in the neighbourhood," said

Phil, watching me kick aside the branches with much interest. What we

saw then did not add to our bewilderment, for we had already partly

guessed the significance of the peculiar arrangement. Under the layer of

brush, a narrow, funnel-like shaft had been hid, which apparently

descended into the heart of the mouldering desert sentinel, but why this

hole had been covered was more than we could understand. While we stood

in silent contemplation of the remarkable state of affairs disclosed,

our energetic companions, having marvelled at our long absence, swarmed

up beside us, breathing heavily.

"Nebuchadnezzar's furnace wouldna be in the same street wi' that biler,"

began Mac, patting his scantily-covered knees with tender solicitude.

"I smell nigger," howled Stewart, taking in the scene at a glance.

"That's aye what happens when A come oot withoot my gun," sorrowfully

muttered the first arrival, moving over to the narrow crater mouth and

peering into the darkness with studied nonchalance.

It so happened, however, that the loose pockets of his flimsy upper

garment were filled to overflowing with cherished specimens, and the

half-kneeling attitude which he assumed allowed them to escape in a

copious stream, so that they fell down into the depths. With a bellow of

rage he drew back, but not before the bulk of his treasure had

disappeared; then the air was filled with the fulness of his wrath, and

sulphurous expressions loud and deep were hurled into the Stygian gloom.

"Calm yersel', Mac--calm yersel'," adjured Stewart soothingly.

"Calm be d----d!" roared the afflicted one. "Hoo am I goin' to get back

my rubies?"

This was a point which seemed unanswerable.

"You'll get more to-morrow, Mac," I said, "but we'll have to return to

the camels now, in case the natives get a hold of them before we have

time to take precautions."

He remained unappeased, however.

"We'll mebbe hae to flee for oor lives afore morning," he protested

gloomily. "It's no the first time we've had to strike camp in a hurry."

As he spoke he unwound from his waist a long coil of rope which he

usually carried in case of emergency, and, with dogged determination,

proceeded to sound the depths of the well.

"You'd better let me gang," advised Stewart, guessing his companion's

intentions before they had been uttered; "I'm no sae bulky as you,

an'----"

He got no further.

"Mak' nae mair allooshuns," came the answer, with a chilling dignity.

"I'll engineer this funeral mysel'."

Hastily fastening a fragment of rock to the end of the rope, he dropped

it into the narrow orifice and carefully noted the length of line run

out. All this time Phil and I had made little comment, never expecting

that any satisfactory bottom would be found; but great was our surprise

to see the rope become stationary when little over twenty feet had been

paid out.

"I'm really anxious to know what is at the bottom of that hole, Mac,"

said Phil; "but I hope you don't find a nice fat, healthy crocodile

awaiting you----"

"Haud the end o' the rope, Phil, an' dinna speechify," broke out the

harassed Mac impatiently; and he wriggled his somewhat substantial form

into the vertical channel until his arms alone saved him from falling

down altogether.

"It's a--a tight fit," he grumbled, with diminishing enthusiasm. "Noo

haud on tight, ye deevils; haud on--haud on!"

His voice rumbled up dolorously to our ears as we lowered him gently

into the mysterious pit, until, when the lower depths were reached, the

rocky vault seemed to tremble with vague echoes. Suddenly the strain on

the rope was relaxed, and we waited expectantly for tidings from the

adventurer.

"It's vera dark doon here," came the ghost-like voice from the

underground. "I think--I think I'll come up----"

"What sort of bottom have you got, Mac?" I shouted. "Try and fetch up a

specimen."

A few more inconsequent remarks issued from the pit mouth, then we could

see the dull glimmer of a match far below. Almost immediately after a

jubilant yell of triumph swelled up to the surface.

"I've got them! I've got them!" he cried. "An' there's gold quartz here,

foreby." Then came a crash, a rumble, and a dull, heavy splash, and we

on the surface gazed on each other in dismay.

"Let me doon! Let me doon!" wailed Stewart. "Something serious has

happened to Mac. Haud on to the rope." He let himself into the narrow

aperture with unwonted agility, and, with an unspeakable fear in our

hearts, Phil and I commenced to pay out the rope.

"Wha the--who the----Wha's blockin' the licht?" bellowed a

well-known voice from the bowels of the earth, which had the effect of

ejecting Stewart into the outer air with a celerity astonishing to

behold. Then we breathed again.

Apparently some ledge had first intercepted our sounding-line, and also

provided a precarious foothold for our valiant associate; but that the

true bottom had now been reached there was little room for doubt.

"I might have guessed before," said Phil, "that the crater would have an

impervious base, and so retain any rain that might be collected."

Judging by the snorts and puffs emitted by the individual who was in a

position to know, the shaft must have held a fair amount of liquid

contents.

"Haul on the rope, for heaven's sake!" spluttered he. "This water would

pushion a nigger. Haul me up quick! There's snakes an' wee crocodiles

tickling me!"

In haste we endeavoured to obey his beseeching call, but the sodden cord

was not equal to the strain, and twice the strands snapped before our

comrade's bulk was raised from the water.

"We'd better double the line, boys," I said. "Mac must have increased in

weight during his sojourn below."

The unfortunate victim of his own prowess groaned lugubriously from his

dank and dark prison, but found time between his grumbling to curse

right heartily the various denizens of his watery environment.

"Be patient, Mac, be patient," counselled Stewart, rearranging the

haulage system. "Scientific exploration is not without its drawbacks, as

you should well ken by this time." He continued addressing choice words

of wisdom to his helpless compatriot while he deftly spliced the rope.

During this lull in operations I chanced to look abroad over the

sweltering plain, and at once my eyes detected the curling "smokes" of a

native camp. We had been too busily engrossed with other matters since

our arrival on the hill-top to observe the landscape on the east, and

now the nearness of a possible hostile band appalled me. Our rifles had

been left in camp, and I only carried a revolver.

"By Jove!" said Phil, "we are going to be in a fix." Then a shout of

alarm broke from him: "There's about a dozen of the ugliest bucks I ever

saw coming right up the hill," he said feebly. I followed his gaze, and,

sure enough, I could see a number of hideously-scarred and

feather-bedecked warriors making their way through the scraggy

brushwood, scarcely a hundred yards from where we stood. With frantic

haste, we again endeavoured to rescue our companion from his awkward

predicament, but fate was surely against us. We had with our combined

efforts raised him only a few feet when the rope came in contact with

the broken ledge, and the strands parted like so many straws, so that

Mac was once more precipitated back into the slimy waters. Our plans had

now to be made quickly.

"Go down to the camp, Stewart," I said, "and fetch a camel pack-rope and

my rifle. Phil and I will make the best of things till you come back."

Forgetful alike of the burning rock and the sharp-edged rubble, he slid

down the smooth declivity, and made a wild burst for the foot of the

hill. Almost immediately the many-barbed spears of the aborigines bore

into view from the opposite side of the dome, and we laid ourselves flat

on the curving wall and breathlessly waited events. Slowly a weird

procession filed on to the elevated platform, and continued a solemn

march around the well-trod channel which had first claimed our

attention. Round and round they circled, clashing their spears and

shields, and swaying their lithe black bodies drunken-like. Then

suddenly they broke out into a dismal chant, and quickened their step

into a half-run, ludicrous to behold. It was soon evident to us that the

warrior band had not come to level their spears against us; they never

once glanced in our direction. Their gaze was apparently fixed on the

ancient crater in which Mac lay entombed. They had come to worship the

great spirit Wangul, the dreaded "Dweller in the Waters."

The _dénoûement_ of this interesting ceremonial was rapid and

unexpected. Just when the reeling warriors had ceased their vocal

exercise from sheer want of breath, when the ensuing silence was broken

only by the pattering of many feet on the sun-baked lava, a hoarse voice

thundered up from subterranean caverns, and at the sound the poor

nomads halted in their mad career, and gazed at each other

terror-stricken.

"Babba, Wangul, Moori!" they cried shrilly, "Babba, Wangul, Moori!"

("The Water God speaks"). Again a sonorous echo reverberated up from the

heart of the mountain, completing their demoralisation. A moment they

hesitated, then, dashing their warlike arms to the ground, and tearing

the feathers from their hair, they fled madly back whence they had come.

Phil gave a gasp of relief, and I felt thankful beyond expression. Then

we quickly made our way through the litter of discarded weapons towards

the Wangul's home. The words that floated to our ears when we gazed into

the depths were sulphurous in the extreme. Poor Mac could not understand

why he had been so ruthlessly neglected, and his complaints were deep

and eloquent.

"Stewart, ye red-heided deevil, are ye goin' to pu' me oot, or are ye

no?" he howled in righteous indignation, and I was glad that the

individual named, who just then came swarming over the rocks, puffing

tempestuously, had not heard the fervent malediction bestowed upon his

faithful person. He approached laden with the whole armoury of the

expedition, the perspiration streaming from his face, and his gaunt

frame trembling visibly.

"I thought ye had been all slauchtered," he muttered, subsiding behind

his equipment, "an' I wis goin' to hae revenge."

With the aid of the stout camel-ropes we soon raised our dripping

comrade to the surface. As he approached the light of day I noticed that

his rugged old face bore a distinctly grim expression, as if he was of

the opinion that we had been having a huge joke at his expense; but when

he heard of what had occurred, and the part he had unwittingly played

in the ceremonial, resentment gave place to mirth, and he laughed

uproariously.

"An' here's the rubies, Stewart, my man," he said, extracting the

precious stones from some secret corner of his bedraggled wardrobe; "I

got them safe efter a', and you shall have the finest are o' the

collection for yer maist splendifferous efforts on my behalf."

Soon after we returned to camp, but it was many days later when we said

goodbye to the lonely mountain which Mac persisted in misnaming El

Dorado.

[Illustration: EL DORADO!]

WHERE THE PELICAN BUILDS ITS NEST

There is little need to recount the monotonous details of my log-book

for the many weeks that ensued. The same description applies to nearly

all the vast interior country, and we struggled over ironshot

sand-plains and through scraggy brushwood belts, with rarely a diversion

in the landscape to gladden our weary eyes. The sun shines on no more

desolate or dreary country than this great "Never Never" land of

Australia, whose grim deserts have claimed many a victim to the cause of

knowledge. The explorer's life amid the deadly solitudes is not one of

many pleasures. Rather do unpleasant possibilities for ever obtrude upon

his jaded brain until he is well-nigh distraught, or at least reduced to

a morbid state of melancholy in keeping with his miserable surroundings.

Little wonder, therefore, that disaster so often attends the traveller

in these lonely lands. The strongest will becomes weakened by the

insidious influences of the country, and the most buoyant spirit is

quickly dulled. All Nature seems to conspire against him. The stunted

mallee and mulga shrubs afford no welcome shade; they dot the

sand-wastes in endless even growths, and the eye is wearied by their

everlasting motionless presence. The saltbush clumps and spinifex

patches conceal hideous reptiles. Snakes and centipedes crawl across

the track; scaly lizards, venomous scorpions, ungainly bungarrows, and a

host of nameless pests, are always near to torture and distract. Even

the birds are imbued with a solemnity profound that adds still more to

the plenteous cares that already overwhelm the wanderer in the silent

bushland. The pelican stands owlishly in his path as if to guard from

intrusion its undiscovered home; the horrible carrion crow with its

demoralising croak is for ever circling overhead; and the mopoke's dull

monotone is as a calling from a shadowy world.

These various influences were not without their effect upon my little

party, and we became strangely silent as we kept up our dogged march of

fifteen miles each day; and when danger threatened, as it did on more

than one occasion, we almost viewed our approaching fate with

indifference, so sodden had our mental faculties become. Eleven days

after leaving the mountain, our last horse, "Sir John," dropped quietly

to the ground, utterly exhausted, and at once the air was filled with

screaming crows, and flies in thousands began to settle on the dying

animal's heaving flank, and crowded into his ears and nostrils. I ended

the poor brute's agony with a revolver shot, and again old "Slavery"

received additional burden; then we hastened onwards, not daring to look

back.

We were now many hundreds of miles from any outpost settlement, and with

only two camels between us and--eternity. Yet these ponderous animals

bore up bravely, seldom showing signs of weakness even when crossing the

most dismally arid wastes, and their slow but sure movement raised our

drooping spirits when our circling crow convoy became suggestively

daring. I made a course due north, determined to intersect any promising

country that might intervene in the middle latitudes, but so far our

changed route had led us full three hundred miles over the most

barren-looking desert that could possibly be imagined.

Only once did we observe natives, and that was when under the 23rd

Parallel, in a scrubby country offering the only inducement to the poor

nomads within a hundred miles. At this place we located a local well

containing, seemingly, an unlimited supply of lime-flavoured fluid; our

perilously-flat water-bags were thankfully refilled, and our hopes rose

high at the unexpected find. But when we renewed our march the

scrub-land soon merged into the blistering plain, and our dreams of a

coming El Dorado were again rudely dashed.

On one occasion we encountered a stretch of salt-crusted country,

evidently the bed of an ancient lake: it extended for five miles in a

N.N.E. direction, and towards its latter extremity the surface was

marshy and damp. We extracted sufficient moisture from the muddy basin

for cooking our usual allowance of rice, so that we might save what

remained of our comparatively fresh supply for more urgent needs.

Beyond this swamp we entered upon a more broken expanse than had met our

view for many weeks. Decaying sandstone rocks reared their heads above

the gravel, and enormous dry gullies tore up the ground in all

directions. But this state of affairs did not continue with us long,

and, as if by a grim law of compensation, a belt of the most miserable

sand country soon intervened to retard our progress. Here the sand was

loose and deep, and unmixed with the usual iron gravel; and the

slightest wind blew the fine dust into our faces, almost blinding us. We

sank over the ankles at each step, and the camels slowed their already

slow march to a mere crawl, and staggered and floundered in the wavy

masses.

Gradually the land-surface took on the appearance of a great sand-sea,

with billows rolling back in a northwesterly direction. As far as the

eye could reach, a series of gentle undulations rippled into the vast

distance. I altered the course several points to eastward, and we

traversed the disheartening obstacles at a difficult angle; but the

undulations grew more general as we advanced, until they surrounded us

in the form of seemingly endless furrows, about a hundred and fifty

yards apart, and from ten to fifteen feet in height. A sparse vegetation

of spinifex found root in the hill-crests, giving the appearance--from a

distance--of a huge cultivated and well-tended field. But on closer

acquaintance the ridges showed up miserably bare and cheerless, and

their white gleaming sand formation caused our eyes to quiver and close,

so trying was the light reflected from them. No life of any kind was

observed. Even the crows had abandoned us. We seemed to be traversing

the bed of an ocean whose waters had long since subsided. A day's march

over these hindering obstructions, however, led us into the familiar

ironshot and scrub country, which, desolate though it was, looked cool

and inviting after our experience with the sand elevations.

More than once after this fortune favoured us opportunely by the happy

location of a soak or claypan in our course, and we grew to trust

Providence in a much greater measure than we had ever anticipated. The

weather was almost unbearably hot; a vertical sun stared down on us in

the daytime with burning intensity, and at night the air was as the

breath of Hades. We were surely paying the penalty of the pioneer to the

full.

By this time our clothing had reached a state far beyond repair, and we

must have formed an extraordinarily dilapidated-looking quartet. Our

garments, not very lavish from the start, had been discarded in

tattered portions, and we were left with cool and scanty apparel, the

sight of which would have caused the most abandoned tramp to turn aside

in disgust. It came to be a subject of jocularity with us as we noted

the gradual disintegration of our meagre remaining sartorial glory; and

I was glad even for such an excuse to introduce the lighter vein into

our conversation. "I'll shin be able tae flee," Mac would say, ruefully

surveying his rags. "Ay, Mac, the wings are sproutin' awfu' fast," his

comrade would sorrowfully reply. "Bit it's a blessin' the weather's no

cauld," he never failed to add, with philosophical gratitude.

We were reaching an extreme northerly latitude, with the great central

deserts behind us, and though we had been bitterly disappointed with the

non-auriferous country crossed, yet the thought of emerging safely from

the "Never Never" land for the time took the place of vain regrets and

cheered us on to fresh endeavour. We had found no El Dorado in the

blistering salt plains; the Land of Promise had eluded us completely--if

such a land existed. Our time, it is true, had been more taken up in

searching for water than prospecting for gold; still, we took occasion

to analyse samples of every probable gold-bearing patch encountered, but

always with insignificant result.

One morning we found ourselves in the unenviable position of having but

a few pints of water left in the canvas bags, and as we had located no

soak for over a week, our immediate future seemed gloomy indeed. The

camels were for the first time showing signs of collapse; and little

wonder; they had gone eight days without a drink, and their load, since

the last of the horses had succumbed, had been unduly heavy.

"We've got to find water to-day, boys," I said, "or something serious is

bound to happen."

Mac chuckled dryly. "The deil aye tak's care o' his ain," he announced

with an effort at pleasantry; and Stewart cackled harshly in agreement.

Soon after breakfast, Phil, in surveying the landscape by the aid of his

field-glasses--a very cherished possession--detected in the distance a

long, curling column of smoke, sure evidence of the aborigines'

presence, and at once our hearts became lighter and our waning strength

renewed. "There must be moisture of some sort about," I said to Phil, as

we staggered along together in the wake of the camels. "The country is

changing for the better," he replied, "yet I can scarcely imagine a

spring to exist in any such soft sand formation." The vagaries of the

interior plains had always mystified him, but he could not be brought to

reason against his geological principles.

Mac's verdict was borne of a more practical kind of observation. "Fur

ony sake haud yer tongue aboot furmashuns, Phil," he shouted back from

his position by the side of "Slavery." "A black buddie needs a drink as

weel as a white buddie, an' we'll shin be in the land o' Goschen noo."

"There's one thing we had best remember, boys," I said. "The natives in

these latitudes are probably very different from those in the south.

They may be cannibals, and considerably more hostile than any tribe we

have yet met."

"Niggers!" snorted Mac and Stewart almost simultaneously, with an

indescribable inflection of contempt. Further words failed them, but I

could see that they had completely forgotten the little episode at El

Dorado.

Towards noon we arrived at the point where the smoke had been seen, but

only a few charred logs were now in evidence, and they were scattered

about in the sand as if they had been partially burnt long previously,

and afterwards half submerged in the drifts caused by many seasons'

willie-willies. The natives had vanished in some unaccountable manner,

leaving not a trace of their recent presence in the vicinity. Far off

near the horizon a thick belt of timber stretched across our track, but

beyond that again the bare desert merged into the skyline.

"Whaur hae the black deevils gaun to?" Mac demanded indignantly, as if a

considerable breach of etiquette had been committed by the rapid flight

of our prospective hosts.

Then Stewart proceeded to poke among the scattered ashes, and soon

discovered several still glowing logs well sunk beneath the surface.

"Mac," said he solemnly, when we clustered round to examine his find,

"we'll hae tae ca' canny; the deevils are no defeecient in strategy, an'

it's plain they dinna want oor guid company."

Stewart was right; the blacks must have observed our approach, and being

unwilling to meet us, had hastily decamped, first taking care to cover

up any clue that might have aroused our curiosity. "That field-glass of

yours has done good work, Phil," I said, when we turned away. "If you

had not noticed the smoke we should never have dreamed that there had

been any one here for at least a year, and goodness knows what might

have happened if we had gone to sleep in this district without keeping a

watch."

Mac chirruped to his patient charge. "Gee up, Slavery," said he, "ye'll

get a drink the nicht."

In spite of our most strenuous efforts, however, we were unable to reach

the timber belt that day, and darkness closed over and compelled us to

camp while we were yet a good way out in the open. For the last several

miles the camels had literally to be dragged over the ground by a

constant pressure on their nose ropes, and when we halted our weary

caravan and unloaded the suffering beasts, they sank upon their knees

breathing heavily, and made no attempt to search for anything to eat. It

was plain that, should another day pass without water being discovered,

our four-footed companions must give up the struggle, which in turn

would mean that we should all be doomed to a most unenviable fate.

"Ma puir animile," said Mac, stroking "Slavery's" quivering nostrils,

"ye've been nine days withoot a drink, but ye'll get a' ye can tak' the

morn."

"Slavery" seemed almost to understand the sympathetic words, and grunted

feebly in reply; then I was surprised to see him struggle to his feet

and proceed to feed on the spinifex tufts growing around.

"He kens I'm tellin' the truth!" shouted Mac delightedly; and there was

much joy among us when "Misery," determined not to be outdone, after

several efforts succeeded in rising shakily and joining his neighbour.

"There's life in auld 'Misery' yet," applauded Stewart with hearty

satisfaction; and the wonderful endurance shown by the dumb animals made

me somewhat ashamed of my own collapsing resolution.

"Let's be happy, boys," counselled Phil in most lugubrious tones. "Life

is short, you know, and we'll be a long time dead."

"If I hear ony mair o' they on-comfortable re-marks," slowly spoke Mac,

with a reproachful glance at the last speaker, "I'll sing ye the Deid

March. A lang time deid, did ye say? For ony sake, Phil, think on

something cheery."

"All right, Mac," retorted Phil. "I'll think of the feast we're going to

have in the Hotel Cecil when we get back to civilisation." While he

spoke he unconsciously hitched in his belt another hole.

Then Stewart's voice rasped out dismally, "There's ... nae ... place

like ... hame----"

"Stop that concert!" I cried, while Phil squirmed in agony; but Mac had

already seized the throat of the musician in a relentless grip, and the

melancholy refrain spluttered out spasmodically to a finish.

"Ye on-ceevilised backslider!" Mac roared in righteous wrath. "Hoo daur

ye whine aboot hame in sic a menner? Fur twa peens," he concluded, with

rising ferocity--"fur twa peens, ma man, A'd shak' yer teeth oot!"

The half-choked culprit smiled with benign expression, "I wis makin' a

joyfu' noise," he replied calmly. "Ye're gettin' gey hard tae please,

I'm thinkin'."

Phil laughed till the tears sprang to his eyes and traced small channels

down his unwashed face, but he stopped abruptly when Mac shoved a tin

pannikin under his chin.

"What a sinfu' waste o' water," said the sphinx. "I raelly wunner at ye,

Phil."

Stewart, who had been busying himself about the fire, now interrupted

again. "Supper's ready," he howled, "an' the menoo is tinned dug an'

damper, or damper an' tinned dug; wi' a puckle roasted rice fur them as

wants indee-gestion; the hale tae be washed doon wi' twa or three draps

o' dirty watter."

"That sounds nice," I commented, at which he began again.

"Aye an' it's vera dirty watter. It's the last in the bag, an' there's

tadpoles an' wee crocodiles swimmin' in't, an----"

"Hold hard, Stewart," said Phil, while Mac was groping about for

something substantial to throw at his comrade's head. "Hold hard, you

grinning gorilla, and let us discover the mysterious ingredients of our

humble fare for ourselves."

"There's an auld saying," Mac grunted complacently, "that what the eye

disna see the hert disna grieve fur. If ye'll tak' ma advice, ye'll dine

awa' back frae the firelicht." And we took his advice without demur.

We kept a watch that night for the first time during many weeks. The

reputation of the Northern Australian natives was not such as inspired

confidence in me. I had a wholesome dread of being speared while asleep,

and these hostile savages were known to make their attacks invariably

after the sun had set, when their tired victims were probably

slumbering, unaware of the presence of danger.

Mac volunteered for the first spell of duty, and as a preliminary he

carefully drew the small shot charges from his cherished elephant-gun,

and replaced them with ominous-looking buckshot cartridges.

"This shid dae mair than tickle them," he grimly remarked, looking at us

as we lay stretched upon our sandy couches, and his face, lit up by the

ruddy glare of the fire, assumed an unusually malevolent expression.

"You've got to remember, Mac," Phil warned, "that the beggars are

probably cannibals, and as you are the fattest of the party, the natural

sequence is----"

"Say nae mair," our wary guardian interrupted with a deprecatory wave of

his hand, "Spare yer in-seen-uashuns. There's nae nigger'll get near

while I'm daein' sentry go, bit at the worst the black deevils wud never

bile me when they could get guid tender golologist." With which dark

statement he shouldered his gun and commenced to execute what looked

like a solemn ghost dance around the boundary of our camp fire's

illumination.

[Illustration: AN EXTINCT VOLCANO WE CAMPED ON.]

The sultry hours dragged slowly on, and the Southern Cross had set and

risen again in the eastern sky, yet not a sound reached our ears. Phil

relieved Mac at midnight, and I in turn took his place two hours later,

but the night passed without alarm.

We had a very dry and unpalatable breakfast next morning; only a few

drops of chocolate-coloured sediment remained in the canvas bag, and

this none of us cared to swallow for a variety of reasons. So we munched

our hard damper, and chewed refractory portions of tinned dog, imagining

it to be the most luxurious fare extant, though, unfortunately our

imagination was not of a very strong order. We lost no time in making a

start, for the early hours were the coolest for travelling, and we

wished to gain the shelter of the brush before the sun had swung right

overhead. The camels were truly in a very bad state; they could scarcely

bear their usual burdens, and reeled drunken-like for several minutes

after being loaded, but seemed to recover somewhat when a few miles had

been traversed. Yet, strive as we might, we could not make speedy

progress, and it was almost noon when we drew near to the timber. The

heat was becoming very intense, and in our semi-famished condition we

suffered severely.

"We'll camp in the most shaded part of the scrub, boys," I cried,

signing to Mac to alter "Slavery's" course more to westward. Phil now

clutched my arm excitedly.

"Is that smoke or a light cloud-patch over the tips of these trees?" he

asked, directing my gaze towards a thick clump of lime-trees that lay

well ahead in the line of our changed route.

I surveyed the feathery shadow indicated intently. "A native smoke,

Phil," I answered, as quietly as I could, though hope sprang up within

me at the sight.

"What we must do, then," said Phil determinedly, "is to capture one or

two representatives of the tribe and make them lead us to water."

"Me an' Stewart'll shin attend to that," growled Mac, hearing the

suggestion with ill-concealed delight.

We were now entering the outskirts of the pigmy forest, and Phil and I

took the lead of our caravan with firearms ready in case of attack;

while Mac and Stewart, leading their charges warily in our tracks,

peered suspiciously into the densest shadows as they passed. The shrubs

were of much greater height than we had expected, and soon they

surrounded us in thick even growths through which we steered an erratic

course with difficulty.

I was about to call a halt when a thick pile of withered branches,

propped against the lower heights of some half-dozen close-growing

trees, arrested my attention. "A windbreak! Go slow!" I cautioned those

in the rear; but soon we found that we were in the midst of quite a

number of these rude shelters, all of which seemed to be of very recent

erection. "There is evidently a tribe in the vicinity," I said to Phil,

who was gazing at the strange contrivances with much curiosity, and

noting how differently they were constructed from the crude

wind-barriers met during the earlier part of our journey.

"They appear to work on some design here," he remarked thoughtfully;

"the branches are interlaced, and the construction might ultimately

evolve into a kind of hut or wigwam."

"I am much more concerned about the whereabouts of the population," I

said, and I glanced apprehensively through the trees; then we resumed

our march. A few minutes more passed in silence as we proceeded with

ears alert for the slightest sound.

We were, as nearly as I could guess, about midway through the forest

when Mac suddenly gave a yell of mingled joy and surprise.

"Haud on! Haud on!" he shouted. "I see niggers richt forrit a wee bit.

Come on, Stewart, an' we'll shin catch are or twa speecimens."

Mac's information was correct. A convenient gap in the foliage had not

been overlooked by him, and his sharp eyes had quickly taken in the view

directly ahead. His warning had scarcely been given when we crashed

through a maze of windbreaks and entered a clearing in the thicket, and

there, in the centre of the open space, fully a dozen hideously scarred

and painted warriors stood with spears and boomerangs upraised, gazing

in our direction. Mac and Stewart were now forcing past me, and it took

Phil and me all our time to restrain their ardour. We had instinctively

retired into the shelter of the brush, and none too soon, for a hail of

spears rustled through the willowy branches and stuck fast without doing

any damage.

"Their spears may be poisoned," I said to the indignant pair. "You've

got a different sort of savage to deal with in these latitudes."

"They'll get awa'!" Mac roared excitedly. "They'll get awa'!"

"Let me gang," implored Stewart. "I'm that thin they couldna hit me, an'

in ony case I'm teuch eneuch tae staun ony pison."

"Get the camels sheltered, boys," I ordered; "we'll try a policy of

conciliation in the first place."

My aides-de-camp grumblingly led "Slavery" and "Misery" back a few

paces, and Phil examined the chambers of his Colt Navy with considerable

impatience. We were by no means hidden by the scraggy branches fringing

the open space, and that fact was impressed upon us most plainly when

several more well-directed spears glanced along the sand at our feet.

Mac fumed, and the hammers of his gun came back with an ominous double

click. "You can cover them with your cannon," I said to him, "while I

try the powers of persuasive language," and I stepped as boldly as I

could out towards the hostile band. "Babba, babba," I cried, with my

hands raised in token of peace. They gave a curious gurgle of surprise

and retreated before me as if afraid. I repeated as much of the native

jargon as I knew, with, as I thought, an exceedingly friendly

inflection. Then they recovered themselves, and came rushing towards me.

I stood irresolute for an instant, for the warriors had discarded their

spears, and I wondered for a brief space whether they were now hurrying

to tender their expressions of good-will. When they were within a dozen

yards off, however, they united in a shrill scream, and brandished in

their right hands most bloodthirsty-looking clubs which they had carried

secreted at their backs. Their intention could not now be doubted, and I

turned and fled.

"Give them the small-shot barrel, Mac," I cried.

"Sma' shot be d----d!" he howled in reply, and the boom of his

artillery filled my ears as he spoke.

When the smoke cleared away I saw that the blacks had retreated to the

extreme end of the clearing, where the bulk of them stood huddled

together, groaning horribly, and making most frightful grimaces at us.

Two feather-bedizened warriors were prancing absurdly in the middle

distance, and emitting piercing shrieks as they slowly hopped back to

rejoin their comrades.

"I aimed low," said Mac apologetically, noting their antics with much

satisfaction, "an' I dinna see what they're makin' a' that row aboot."

I was glad to notice that no serious injury had been done to the poor

creatures, and, judging by the activity shown by the wounded pair, they

were evidently much more frightened than hurt.

"I don't think there is any more fight in them, boys," I said, and I

stepped forward, followed by my companions, who tugged at the

nose-ropes of the reluctant camels. A few belated missiles, flung in

half-hearted fashion, struck the ground at our feet; the blacks still

stood in our path, glaring at us sullenly.

"Level your cannon again, Mac," I instructed, "but _don't_ fire."

He obeyed with alacrity, just in time to check a fresh flight of spears.

The natives had already acquired a wholesome dread of the

formidable-looking breechloader. With ear-splitting yells they scattered

before our advance, and in a moment were lost to sight in the forest.

We made a brief halt by the scene of their stand in order to search the

near vicinity for water, but not a drop of moisture could be located

anywhere around. Windbreaks were very numerous some little distance back

from the enclosure, which showed that we had practically stumbled upon a

native village. Yet it must have been only a settlement used as a

temporary camp between two known springs, unless the water resources of

the district were very cunningly hidden.

"There must be water near at hand," said Phil. "These trees could not

grow so freshly otherwise."

"We've missed our one chance, I fear," I answered him sadly. "We ought

to have captured one of the natives while we had the opportunity."

"Let us go now," said he; "they cannot be very far off yet."

"We'll gang! we'll gang!" Mac and Stewart cried clamorously together.

"We'll shin catch the deevils!"

But I restrained them. "You are both too reckless," I explained, "and we

should probably never see you again if you lost your bearings in the

bush." I knew that my worthy henchmen would disdain to use any

stratagem, and in consequence would surely be speared by the vengeful

savages.

"You can trust me, Mac," said Phil grimly. "I'll fetch you a specimen or

two to play with," and Mac, noting his unusual fierceness of expression,

felt comforted.

Leaving our over-eager companions in charge of the camels, I took a

hurried bearing of our position, and dashed off with Phil in the

direction taken by the fleeing band. I could still hear the branches

crackling before their wild rush, and I hoped that the sound might guide

us in our quest. For several minutes we kept up a rapid pace, but we

quickly realised that our running powers were not equal to those of the

blacks. The blistering sand showered in our faces, and the brittle twigs

of the mallee cut us severely. The sun had now reached his meridian, and

shot his rays so fiercely upon us that we were soon compelled to reduce

our speed. We dared not allow ourselves to perspire, and so lose the

little moisture our bodies contained. Meanwhile the vague crackling of

the brushwood in the far distance became fainter and fainter, intimating

to us very plainly that our intended prisoners were far from our reach.

We were weary and hopeless, yet we mechanically continued on. Our

thoughts, as may be guessed, were the reverse of pleasant, and we did

not care to give them expression. Few would have recognised in Phil, the

fresh-faced, merry-spirited young man who had led the Five-Mile rush.

His face was now deeply bronzed, and bore the stamp of the hardships

encountered, and his firm-set mouth showed a vastly increased force of

will.

"The beggars seem to have vanished completely," he said, when we had

travelled at least half a mile in silence. "What a tidy row of skeletons

we'll make," he added lightly. "'A rale dacent coleckshun,' as Mac would

say."

"We'll hear Mac's remarks later," I answered, "and we're not by any

means dead yet."

We had now reached a slight dip in the land surface, and in the

depression a well-padded native track appeared. We followed it eagerly

until it broke off into two trails, forming an acute angle.

"You take one, I'll take the other," I said. "If you find anything

signal with your revolver, and I'll do the same, though it is more than

likely they lead to the same place."

"All right!" he replied, and we separated.

Hurriedly I sped along, now this way, now that, as the trail twisted and

twined in the manner peculiar to most bush tracks, and I seemed to have

entered a maze. Then I came to a point where it divided and subdivided,

and I hesitated, wondering which branch to follow. I went down on my

knees and closely examined the sand at the junction, and after a careful

scrutiny I was rewarded by distinguishing the imprint of an aboriginal's

ungainly foot at the entrance to one of the offshoots, and I hastened

along the course indicated, half stooping and sometimes kneeling, in my

extreme anxiety to keep on the pad, which could only be traced with the

utmost difficulty.

Gaily-plumaged birds now surrounded me, chattering noisily, and their

presence imbued me with hope. There, indeed, must be water near, if I

could only find it. My guiding path led me several hundred yards over a

sand and gravel surface, through which a stray blade of wiry grass

peeped here and there; but gradually the grasses grew closer, and their

trampled appearance showed me that some one had only recently crossed

that way. I was brought to a halt abruptly. The track had come to an

end, and I stood at the edge of a small circular space, in the centre of

which a tall lime-tree stretched high above the stunted shrubs

adjoining.

The significance of the sight was not altogether lost on me. I had

usually found lime-trees and water in close proximity, but here no

welcome spring gladdened my eyes, the circle was bare and

parched-looking, except on the far-away side, where a rank clump of

spinifex lined the gaunt stems of the mallee. I was bitterly

disappointed.

"Looks like a circus-ring," I said to myself. "Probably used for holding

grand corroborees." I turned away in disgust, and sat down in the sand,

heedless alike of snakes, scorpions, or other crawling things. I was

trying to consider what our immediate future must be, and my deductions

were not cheering. Then I wondered where Phil had gone, and whether his

quest had been more successful than mine; but I had heard no signal,

therefore, I reasoned, he would be in a somewhat similar plight to

myself, or perhaps he had already rejoined Mac and Stewart. I continued

my musings in a calmly-resigned state of mind, but was suddenly aroused

to alertness; the faint sound of rustling branches reached my ears. I

got up speedily and looked all round, but nothing could be seen, and I

blamed my too eager fancy for the alarm. Glancing at the sun, and taking

a rough compass bearing, I prepared to return to my companions by a

direct route through the bush. But again the peculiar sound attracted my

attention. My fancy had not deceived me this time, and I surveyed the

open space closely, but nothing met my anxious gaze. Then, just as I was

leaving the scene, the secret of the rustling branches was revealed, and

I smiled grimly at my lack of perception. On the extreme edge of the

clearing, half hidden by the spidery tendrils of the sparse fringing

bush, two natives lay sprawling on the sand, carefully piling a heap of

twigs and spinifex grass, as if in preparation for a large fire. They

lay with their backs towards me, pursuing their work with diligence, and

as the colour of their bodies was almost similar to that of their

surroundings, they were not easily observable, as I had already proved.

I noticed with satisfaction that their weapons were strewn in the grass

some few yards out of their reach. These comprised two evil-looking

waddies and a number of double-barbed spears--a formidable collection,

truly. I examined my small S. and W. revolver with purposeful intent,

and was on the point of rushing forward when a loud crackle came from

another part of the ring. It seemed to me as if a stout branch had given

way before some other, and more impetuous, watcher than myself. More

natives might be near. I drew back into the shadow. The dusky pair were

evidently wildly alarmed; they leapt to their feet and looked about with

a startled expression, and then I recognised them as two of those who

had so stubbornly contested our advance less than an hour back. They

glared at each other terror-stricken, and pointed to the sun and the

four corners of the earth in turn, accompanying their odd gesticulations

by a stream of monosyllabic utterances. Apparently they were invoking

various gods to their aid. In the midst of this pantomime a well-known

figure burst into the enclosure from the still swaying scrub, and before

the natives could escape he clutched them both in a tight embrace, and

bore them back by almost superhuman effort.

"Phil!" I cried in amazement, jumping forward, and relieving him of one

of his prisoners.

"We've got them!" he shouted with fierce emotion. "Keep still, you imp

of darkness!"

His prisoner was still struggling violently, but soon realised the

hopelessness of his efforts, and became quiescent as mine, who was

rolling his eyes at me beseechingly.

Then we looked at each other, half in amusement half in surprise, and I

noticed that his sole upper garment, his sand-stained shirt, was torn

half across the shoulders.

"It caught in a branch," he explained, examining the rent ruefully, "and

the noise I made in breaking loose nearly frightened the blacks away."

"But how did you get here?" I asked, for the tracks we had followed

seemed to lead very widely apart.

"The trails intersect, but all find their way here," he answered.

"Anyhow, I've been watching these beggars building a monument, or

something like it, for the last five minutes or so."

"I have had my eye on them also," I said, "but I didn't dream of your

being so close. Hold my prisoner a moment," I added; "we'll see what

they have been doing."

He promptly sat on my savage's neck, while I got up and kicked away the

pile of branches. And lo! beneath them lay disclosed a gurgling spring

of clearest water.

I could not describe the joy that was ours at that moment. Phil simply

gasped with relief, and was not satisfied that his eyes did not deceive

him until I lifted some of the sparkling liquid in the palm of my hand

and let it trickle slowly through my fingers. The blacks remained

passive enough now, only groaning dismally at intervals. It was not

difficult to understand why they had attempted to hide the spring. As

Stewart had first surmised, they did not want our good company, and who

could blame them? There was no need to rejoin our comrades now, so we

discharged our revolvers as a signal to them to approach, and soon their

familiar voices were heard far back raised in high debate. Mac was

apparently holding forth on some pet doctrine with which Stewart

doggedly refused to coincide. They had forced their thoughts far away

from unpleasant topics; they knew how necessary it was to keep up a

semblance of cheerfulness in trying times, and for the rest they trusted

to my greater experience and Phil's superior knowledge.

The dwarfed trees broke before the advancing train. Poor old "Slavery"

was evidently leading the trail at a harder pace than usual.

"Come alang, 'Slavery'! Wad ye hae me pu' ye?" I heard Mac's voice

raised in pathetic entreaty, as the swaying brush about a hundred yards

back betokened their near approach. A few minutes more and "Slavery" and

"Misery" staggered into the clearing, with Mac and Stewart pulling

strenuously at their nose-ropes. The poor beasts' eyes were gleaming

strangely, and their breath came in long wheezing groans.

"We can hang oot anither day yet," Mac shouted encouragingly immediately

he saw us, trying bravely to look cheerful. Then when he noticed the

natives on whom we were comfortably seated his astonishment was great.

"Guid heavens!" he ejaculated. "Stewart, we've got them efter a'."

But Stewart had caught sight of the glistening water, and with a fervent

exclamation he buried his face in it and drank deeply. The camels now,

feeling the tension relieved at their nose-ropes, sank upon their knees

dead beat, and their heads drooped in the sand. Phil and I watched the

scene in silence: it was as the last act of a drama, with the proverbial

happy ending. Mac's rugged features fairly glowed when he saw the saving

spring. He strode forward, and jerked his comrade's dripping face from

the water. "Dinna mak' a beast o' yersel'," he said shortly. "Ower

muckle's bad for ye, an' it's ma turn onywey." But they found room for

two heads, and Phil said they reduced the level of the water by several

inches.

The camels' wants now received attention. We allowed them to drink

sparingly only, as they would quickly have drained the well, which

refilled very slowly; but before the day was out they had absorbed their

full supply, and were on a fair way towards the recovery of their wonted

vigour. We camped by the spring, which we named "Warriors' Well," for

two days, during which time we were engaged filling the great

water-bags, and patching our tattered clothing so as to make a

respectable appearance when we arrived at the nearest settlement, now

less than a hundred miles distant. We fed our prisoners lavishly on

tinned dog and flour while they remained in our charge, and they seemed

to appreciate the diet hugely; yet, do what we might, they retained

their sullen demeanour, and always howled plaintively when we approached

near them. They made their escape on the morning of our departure, much

to Mac's disgust. That worthy had conceived the idea of training them to

act in the capacity of body-servants to Stewart and himself.

"They would hae been bonnie orniments tae tak' hame tae auld Scotland,"

he said regretfully.

"We'll be bonnie-like orniments oorsels, Mac," responded Stewart,

surveying his dark-brown skin. "We'll be nigger enough like, I'm

thinkin'."

We resumed our march with lighter hearts than we had had for many a day.

Our journey was practically completed, for our water supply would now

last until we reached comparatively sure country. It is true we had not

benefited by the expedition as I had hoped when starting, but we had

gained a hard knowledge of the country, and of our own powers of

endurance under extremely adverse circumstances, which would prove

invaluable to us in the further journeyings I was at this stage

planning. Phil had become indissolubly connected with my little party.

His worth had been demonstrated over and over again, and it was with

pleasure I heard his decision, as we drew near settled latitudes, to

throw in his lot with mine in my future travels.

[Illustration: THE ONLY CREATURES THAT CAN EXIST IN THE N.W. INTERIOR.]

"Ye're a man o' pairts, Phil," was Mac's unhesitating verdict, and

Stewart added, as a fitting tribute, "I'm o' the same opeenion."

Twelve days after leaving the providentially-found spring we arrived on

the north-west coast of Australia, and there disposed of our faithful

old camels to ready purchasers. Mac's eyes were moist when he said

good-bye to the gentle "Slavery," and Stewart was loath to part with his

old charge, "Misery." As they were led away I bestowed a benediction on

the trusty servants of our dreary journey, and elicited a promise from

their new possessor that he would treat them kindly as they deserved.

About a week later we sailed for Sydney.