No sooner did the buck see that I had found him out than he made a sudden bolt and attempt at escape—­very neatly done, but not quick enough to pass Breaden.  This was indeed a disappointment!  I had thought it probable that our guide would lead us anywhere into the sand and try to escape, but I never guessed that he would tantalise us as he had done.  In any case, so long as he was with us, we must some time get water—­and we had no intention of letting him escape.  With a rope we secured him and watched in turn all through the night.

Never were jailers more vigilant, for that black-fellow meant our lives.  He tried all means of escape, and never slept the whole night through.  He would lie still with closed eyes for a time, and then make a sudden struggle to wrench the rope away from his captor; then stealthily with his foot he tried to push the rope into the fire; then he started rubbing it on the rock on which we lay; and last of all his teeth were brought into use.  When my turn came to watch, I pretended to sleep, to see what he would do, and so discovered all his tricks.  I confess that I saw with delight the evident feelings of thirst that before long overcame him—­the salt beef had done its duty; he had had no water of course, for we had none to give him, and I felt sure that he would be only too eager in the morning.  Nor was I mistaken; long before daylight he showed signs of distress, and anxiety to go on, standing up and stretching out his long, thin arm—­“Gabbi” (water), he said, pointing in three different directions, putting his head back and pointing with his chin, making a noise something between a grunt and a puff.  To the East, to the North-East, and to the South-West from where we had come, he made it clear that water existed.  Evidently we had not been far from his camp when we caught him, and we could hardly blame him for leading us away from his own supply, which he rightly judged we and our camels would exhaust.

Standing by the dry rock-hole we could see for many miles, the country to the North-East being considerably lower than where we were; not a cheerful view—­sand-ridges always!  Not a hill or range to be seen, and yet people have doubted if this really is a desert!

It may happen that in days to come some other party may be stranded in this region and therefore I will leave out no description that could assist them in finding the water that King Billy (for so had we named the buck) eventually took us to.  The dry rock-hole (Mulundella) is situated on a surface outcrop of desert sandstone, about fifty yards across surrounded by thick mulga scrub, enclosed between two sand-ridges running North-East and South-West.