to be different from others of its kind.  This showed us, too, that they must be dry, and probably had had no water since our arrival at their well.  About midday we rode right on to their camp without warning.  Again the scrub befriended them, but in spite of this I could have got ahead of them on Satan had his nose-line not snapped.  Determined not to be baulked, I jumped down and gave chase, old Czar lumbering along behind, and Warri shouting with glee and excitement, “Chase ’em—­we catch em,” as if we were going through all this trouble for pleasure.  Happy Warri! he never seemed to see gravity in anything.  It is almost incredible how quickly and completely a black-fellow can disappear; as if in a moment the whole family was out of sight.  One black spot remained visible, and on it I centred my energies.  Quickly overhauling, I overtook it, and found it to be an old and hideous gin, who, poor thing! had stopped behind to pick up some dingo puppies.

Sorry as I was to be rude to a lady, I had to make her prisoner, but not without a deal of trouble.  “Dah, dah, dah!” she shouted, scratching, biting, spitting, and tearing me with her horrid long nails, and using, I feel sure, the worst language that her tongue could command.  I had to carry this unsavoury object back to her camp, she clutching at every bush we passed, when her hands were not engaged in clawing and scratching me.  After her anger had somewhat abated she pointed out a rock-hole from which they had got their water.  Securing the woman with a light rope, I put her in Warri’s charge, who kept watch above, lest the natives should return and surprise us, whilst I descended the rock-hole to see what supply was there.  A little water was visible, which I quickly baled into the canvas bags we had brought for the purpose.  The bottom of the hole was filled in with dead sticks, leaves, the rotting bodies of birds and lizards, bones of rats and dingoes.  Into this ghastly mass of filth I sunk up to my middle, and never shall I forget the awful odour that arose as my feet stirred up the mess.  Nevertheless water was there, and thankful I was to find it, even to drink it as it was.  After half an hour’s work in this stinking pit, sick from the combination of smells—­distinguishable above every other being the all-pervading perfume of aboriginals—­I was rewarded by some twelve gallons of water, or, more properly speaking, liquid.

I decided to take the gin back with us, as it had been clear to me for some time past that without the aid of natives we could not hope to find water.  With our small caravan it was impossible to push on and trust to chance, or hope to reach the settled country still nearly five hundred miles ahead in a bee-line.  Even supposing the camels could do this enormous stage, it was beyond our power to carry sufficient water for ourselves.  The country might improve or might get worse; in such weather as we now experienced no camel could go for more than a few days without