soft; and doubtless the rain of countless ages collecting round the stones, once on the surface and now found at the bottom of the holes, has at length weathered away the rock, and so by slow degrees the stone has ground out an ever-increasing hollow.  I am neither geologist nor dentist, but I have often likened in my mind the formation of the Namma-holes to the gradual hollow formed by decay in a tooth.  Whatever their history, their use is unquestionable—­not so the flavour of their contents; for every bird or beast coming to water will leave some traces behind, and the natives, to prevent evaporation, throw in sticks, stones, and grass.  Such a collection of rubbish and filth might naturally be supposed to render the water unhealthy, but apparently this is not the case, for we have often been forced to drink water, which, in civilisation would be thought only fit to be used as manure for the garden, without any injury to health or digestion.  Patient search over the whole surface of the rock is the usual method for finding rock-holes, though sometimes the pads of wallabies, kangaroos, or emus, may serve as a guide to them, but game is so scarce that a man must usually trust to his own observation.  Sometimes their existence may be detected from a distance by the patch of rock round the mouth showing white, owing to its being worn by the feet of birds and animals.

A typical rock was the high, barren “Cowarna,” and one that after rain would store in its depressions a plentiful supply of the life-giving water.  Thankful for small mercies, I made the best of a bad job, and, having no dish or bucket from which to give Satan a drink, I was obliged to make him lie down close to the narrow hole, whilst into his willing throat I poured the water which at arm’s length I scooped up with my quart pot.  This tedious process finished, I still had a potful at my disposal, so, taking a long drink myself, I stripped off my clothes and indulged in a shower bath, Not a luxurious bathe certainly, and a larger supply would have been acceptable, but every little helps, and even a few drops of fresh water have a pleasant effect on one’s body made sticky by the salt of the water from the lakes, and serve to remind the traveller that he has once been clean.

Leaving the rock at sundown I travelled well into the night, for progress was slow through the scrub and trees in the darkness, but little relieved by the light of a waning moon.  Feeling sure that I had gone far enough, I was preparing to rest awhile and find our camp in the morning, when the welcome glow of a fire shot up through the branches.  Jim and Paddy, with characteristic thought and resource, had climbed to the top of two tall and dead gum trees and there built fires, fanned by the fierce draught through the hollow trunks, knowing well at what a short distance a fire on the ground is visible in this flat country.  During my absence they had found no gold, but, as they liked the look of the country, we