Warri was inclined to fall a victim to her charms, for she was by no means ill-looking.  The second living thing we saw was a snake, which we killed; how it came to inhabit so dry a region I cannot say.  Now that our course was Westerly, we had expected to run between the ridges, but no such luck attended us.  True, we marched between the sand-ridges, but every now and again a ridge of rock running exactly across our course had to be negotiated.  Yet further, and sandhills thrown up in any irregular order impeded us, then loose sand; everywhere spinifex, without even its accustomed top-growth, drought, and desolation!  Native tracks were very scarce, even old ones; some of these we followed, only to find dry rock-holes and wells at the end of them.

We were all walking again now, ploughing our way through the sand, men and camels alike exhausted, and the poor ponies bringing up the rear, the tail-end of a miserable caravan.  And they, following behind, were a useless burden; we could not ride them, and yet for their sakes our supply of water became less and less; we denied ourselves beef (which meant at least a bucketful of water to boil out the salt) to keep them alive; poor faithful things, none but curs could desert them while life to move was left in their bodies.  On the night of the 29th, for our own safety, I could allow them no water, for so great had been the drain that our tanks had but a few gallons left.  The next was a day of disappointments.  All day we followed the same two tracks, from rock-hole to rock-hole—­all were dry as the sandstone in which Nature had placed them.  We could see where the blacks had scraped out the sand at the bottom—­if they could not find water, what chance had we?  But every step took us closer—­that is the great consolation in such cases.  First, have perfect faith that water will eventually be found, then each forward move becomes easy, for you know that you are so much nearer relief.  Every dry hole gives a greater chance that the next will be full.

Near one hole we came on a ceremonial or dancing ground—­that is, a cleared space in the mulga scrub, circular in shape, with a cleanly swept floor, trodden down by many feet.  In the centre stood a sort of altar of branches and twigs.  It was evident that the blacks had danced round and round this, though for what purpose I cannot say.

As the sun set our faith was rewarded; before us in an outcrop surrounded by mulga lay two fine rock-holes with an ample supply.  What a blessed relief!  In a few minutes the horses were gorged, and hard at work on the rough grass near the holes.  Hardy horses, indeed!  Eight days from drink to drink (not counting what we gave them), and hardly a scrap of feed.

We took a two days’ rest for the sake of the grass, and varied our daily fare of salt beef with small, tufted pigeons, which came in large numbers to drink.  We shot nearly one hundred of them, and ate boiled pigeon three times a day with the voracity of black-fellows.  Nor was Devil-devil forgotten in the feast; he had become an expert rider, and had a far better time than poor Val.