we should get no water there when we returned.  We had to abandon any further attempt.  The mare had carried him God knows where, and we had to desist from our melancholy and unsuccessful search.  Ah! who can tell his place of rest, far in the mulga’s shade? or where his drooping courser, bending low, all feebly foaming fell?  I may here remark, that when we relinquished the search, Gibson’s tracks were going in the direction of, though not straight to, the dry ridges that Jimmy and I visited in February.  These were now in sight, and no doubt Gibson imagined they were the Rawlinson Range, and he probably ended his life amongst them.  It was impossible for us to go there now; I had difficulty enough to get away from them when I purposely visited them.  We now made a straight line for the western end of the Rawlinson, and continued travelling until nearly morning, and did not stop till the edge of Lake Christopher was reached.  This was the fifth night from water, and the horses were only just able to crawl, and we camped about ten miles from the Circus, we hoped to get water for them there.  During our night march, before reaching the lake—­that is, owing to the horses we were driving running along them, away from our line—­we crossed and saw the tracks of the two loose horses, Badger and Darkie; they were making too southerly ever to reach the Rawlinson.  Where these two unfortunate brutes wandered to and died can never be known, for it would cost the lives of men simply to ascertain.

On reaching the Circus next morning, the 8th, there was only mud and slime, and we had to go so slowly on, until we reached the Gorge of Tarns very late, reaching the depot still later.  I was almost more exhausted now than when I walked into it last.  Jimmy was all right with the little dog, and heartily glad at our return, as he thought it was the end of our troubles.  Jimmy was but young, and to be left alone in such a lonely spot, with the constant dread of hostile attacks from the natives, would not be pleasant for any one.  Our stock of poor old Terrible Billy was all but gone, and it was necessary to kill another horse.  Mr. Tietkens and Jimmy had partially erected another smoke-house, and to-morrow we must work at it again.  The affairs of the dead must give place to those of the living.  I could not endure the thought of leaving Gibson’s last resting-place unknown, although Bunyan says, “Wail not for the dead, for they have now become the companions of the immortals.”  As I have said, my mind could not rest easy without making another attempt to discover Gibson; but now that the Circus water was gone, it would be useless to go from here without some other water between, for where we left his tracks was seventy miles away, and by the time we could get back to them it would be time to return.  In the early part of the day we got sticks and logs, and erected a portion of the smoke-house, while Jimmy got the horses.  I then determined to go with Mr.