Leaving Lawlers February 7th we struck an arm of the lake on the 10th the country traversed being mostly sand plain, timbered with desert-gum.  To reach the creek it was necessary to cross the lake; and what a job we had, twisting and turning to avoid one arm, only to be checked by another; carrying packs and saddles across what we supposed to be the main lake, only to find ourselves on an island.  All things have an end, even the ramifications of a salt lake, and eventually we and our mud-plastered camels found ourselves on the northern shore; and travelling east, expected confidently to cut the Erlistoun creek.  By its position on the map we should have already crossed it but to make sure we went on five miles more, when our passage was barred by another salt lake not marked on the chart.  It was clear that the creek did not reach Lake Darlot.  Where could it be?  Was it worth while to look for it further?  It was evident how it came to be so shown on the map.  Mr. Wells had cut the creek near its source and seeing only one lake to the south, naturally supposed that it was joined by the creek, and so had marked its probable course by a dotted line.  His work, copied on to other maps had been carelessly drawn, and the creek shown running in a defined channel into Lake Darlot.  That this was the case I found afterwards on studying his original chart.

Now to decide our best course!  Again our supply was all but done, but we knew of no water save Lawlers, sixty miles away, and to attempt to return to that, recrossing the lake was manifestly absurd.  To the south-west we could see some hills which might or might not be granite.  We were inclined to think that they were, as in the setting sun of a few nights before they had taken a ruddy glow.  These rocks appeared to be our only chance.

It has always seemed to me better in such cases to make people follow one’s own wishes by seeming to consult theirs, rather than by a direct order.  Acting on this plan, though with my own mind made up, I consulted with my two mates.  I felt sure that Jim would agree with me, from a remark he had made to a mutual friend to the effect that “he would follow me to h—­l.”  Of paddy I was not so sure; nor was I mistaken.  He strongly advised turning back, but, having agreed to abide by the majority, said no more, and so to the hills we turned our steps.

Our hopes that the two lakes were separate were soon shattered, for before us lay a narrow neck connecting the two.  There was nothing for it but to go straight ahead.  The lightest-packed camel crossed without mischance, but not so the other two; down they went, too weak to struggle, and again the toil of digging them out, and driving and hauling them foot by foot, had to be gone through.  Then the packs had to be carried piece by piece, for we sank too deep in the sticky mud with a heavy load, and our weary legs had to be dragged step after step from the bog.  Hungry and thirsty, blistered by the glare of the salt in the pitiless sun, we struggled on, with a wondering thought of what the end would be.