By putting in crosspieces from side to side of the hole, which we soon discovered to be an underground rock-hole, and by backing these with twigs and grass, we managed to make the walls of sand secure, and at last reached water level, and lost no time, as may well be imagined, in raising a billyful and having the very best drink we had encountered for a long time.  At the moment almost Breaden and Warri returned, having done their job admirably.  They had followed the tracks to the next camp, away to the North—­a dry camp this—­and, noticing the direction the blacks had taken, returned home.  After a feed and a rest we again set to work, and again the well fell in, but with less danger this time.  It was clear that we could go no further without some sort of caisson to hold back the fine sand.

Charlie, with his usual ingenuity, constructed a rough but serviceable one out of the wooden guards on the faces of our water-casks and the tin-lined box lids that we had taken from Hubbe’s camp at Mount Allott.  Instinct had told us right—­they were of use!

By this means we reached a depth of thirty feet, first sinking the caisson, then bailing the water, then continuing the timber and backing.

The hole so narrowed at the bottom that the water could only be obtained by stretching out a stick at arm’s length, on which was lashed a small saucepan.  It soon became clear that, labour as we would, the hole would yield but little, so, leaving the rest to work, I took Warri, and continued the search for the natives from the point where Breaden had left their tracks.  After a long, tedious day of tracking, we found ourselves back at our own camp.  The natives—­two bucks, two gins, and three picaninnies—­travelled North to a dry well, and there split, the men going one way and the rest another.  We chose the bucks to follow, and presently the rest joined in, and the whole family swung round until close to our camp.  We could, by their tracks, see where they had herded together in fear under a beefwood tree not one hundred yards from us.  Just before sunset we again set forth, taking Czar and Satan as riding-camels, and were lucky in picking up tracks going in a fresh direction before night fell.

We camped on the tracks, and ran them in the morning, noticing two interesting things on the way:  the first, several wooden sticks on which were skewered dried fruits, not unlike gooseberries; these were hidden in a bush, and are remarkable, for they not only show that the natives have some forethought, but that they trade in edible goods as well as in weapons and ornaments.  These fruits are from the solanum SODOMEUM, and were only seen by us near the Sturt Creek (three hundred miles away).  The second, little heaps of the roots of a tree (known to me only as pine-mulga [Probably a “Hakea."]) stacked together, which had been sucked for water; we tried some, but without result, and the tree the natives had made use of did not seem