report of the revolver all rose and seemed in haste to go, but I would not allow my dear old friend to depart without a few last friendly expressions.  One of these natives was pitted with small-pox.  They seemed to wish to know where we were going, and when I pointed west, and by shaking my fingers intimated a long way, many of them pulled their beards and pointed to us, and the old man gave my beard a slight pull and pointed west; this I took to signify that they were aware that other white people like us lived in that direction.  The conference ended, and they departed over the hills on the east side of the pass, but it was two hours before they disappeared.

All the horses which had escaped in hobbles the other night now came to water, and were put through the pass again.  During the day we secured the remainder, and had them altogether at last.  It was noon of the 7th April when we left this delectable pass, again en route for the west, hoping to see Sladen Water and the Pass of the Abencerrages no more.  At fourteen miles we were delayed by Banks, carrying my boxes, as a strap broke, and he set to work to free himself of everything.  Fortunately, one box with the instruments, quicksilver, etc., remained firm; everything got bucked and kicked out of the other; buckskin gloves, matches, mineral collection, rifle cartridges, bottles of medicine, eye-water, socks, specimens of plants, etc., all sent flying about in the thick triodia, for the brute went full gallop all round the mob of horses, trying to get rid of the other box and his saddle.  In spite of all his efforts they remained, and it was wonderful how many things we recovered, though some were lost.  By this time it was dusk, and the evening set in very cool.  I now intended to encamp at the fine spring I named Fort McKellar, four miles east of the Gorge of Tarns.  There was a fine and heavy clump of eucalyptus timber there, and a very convenient and open sheet of water for the use of the camp.  I had always looked upon this as an excellent and desirable spot for an encampment, though we had never used it yet.  The grass, however, is neither good nor abundant; the country around being stony and sterile, except down the immediate valley of the channel, which was not wide enough to graze a mob of horses for long.  We reached it again on the 9th of April.

My reader will remember that in January I had found a creek with a large, rocky tarn of water, which I called the Circus; it was the last westerly water on the range, and I was anxious to know how it was holding out, as it must be our point of departure for any farther efforts to the west.  It was twenty miles from here, and Gibson and I rode up the range to inspect it.  On our road we revisited the Gorge of Tarns; the water there had shrunk very much.  Here we had left some useless articles, such as three pack-saddle frames, a broken thermometer, and sundry old gear; all these things the natives had carried