and so vehement were their exhortations to go in the other direction, that we concluded we had no picnic before us.  Had they had any intentions of coming further our change of course decided them, and they made tracks for the glen, bearing with them many rich gifts.  An empty meat tin and a few nails does not sound a very great reward for their enforced services, and yet they would have been far less pleased with a handful of sovereigns; they could put these to no use whatever, whereas the tins will make small “coolimans,” and the nails, set in spinifex-gum on the end of a waddy, will find their way into a neighbour’s head.

We had really terrible country that day, during which we made no more than nine miles.  At first travelling was easy, as a flat belt of sand came between the range and the sandhills; later on, however, we were forced to climb up and down, now mountainous sandhills over one hundred feet in height, now jagged hills and breakaways of sandstone; dodging down little steep gullies, with the camels’ packs almost touching each side, up steep rocks, or along their faces, until the horses and camels alike were quite exhausted.  Fortunately we were rewarded by a fair camp for feed, close by a noticeable bluff.  We crossed nine deep creeks, in any of which, at their heads, pools may exist.

Climbing the bluff next morning, I could see that the range curved round to the South-East for some miles, possibly a great many.  To continue following round the foot would advance us but little; I therefore decided to cross the range somehow.  It was evident that any great extent of this rocky country would soon place the camels hors de combat, as every step cut their feet, and every few minutes they ran the risk of a sprained or broken limb; mules would be more suitable for such country.  The further we advanced the rougher became the ground, the narrower the little glens, and the steeper the rocks.  However, one final and tremendous scramble landed us all safely above the hills, and to our joy we found that a flat plain of spinifex spread before us.  On it were clumps of mulga.  Now we hoped we had done with the ridges.  But no! more yet, in spite of hopes and prayers, and for the next two days we were crossing them at the rate of eighty-eight per eight hours.  It really was most trying, and had a very bad effect on one’s temper.  I fancy my companions had the same difficulty, but I found it nearly impossible to restrain myself from breaking out into blind rages about nothing in particular.  But the cursed sand-ridges made one half silly and inclined to shake one’s fist in impotent rage at the howling desolation.  Often I used to go away from camp in the evening, and sit silent and alone, and battle with the devil of evil temper within me.  Breaden has told me that he had the same trouble, and Godfrey had fearful pains in his head to bear.  The combination of heat, flies, sand, solitude, the sight of famished horses, spinifex,