The northern track from Sandy Creek deviated so much on account of watering-places, thick scrub, and broken rocks, that we left it and cut through the bush to some clay-pans south of Cutmore’s Well; and successfully negotiated on our way the lake that had given me so much trouble when I and the fever were travelling together.  All through the scrub every open spot was covered with grass, that horrible spear-grass (ARISTIDI), the seeds of which are so troublesome to sheep and horses.  I have seen sores in a horse’s mouth into which one could put two fingers, the flesh eaten away by these vicious little seeds.  When turned out on this kind of grass, horses’ mouths should be cleaned every day.  Camels do not suffer, as they seldom eat grass unless long, young, and specially succulent.  We, however, were rather annoyed by the persistent way in which the seeds worked through our clothes and blankets; and before much walking, our trousers were fringed with a mass of yellow seeds, like those of a carter who has wound wisps of straw round his ankles.  Truly rain is a marvellous transformer; not only vegetable but animal life is affected by it; the bush is enlivened by the twittering of small birds, which come from nobody knows where, build their nests, hatch out their young, and disappear!  Almost every bush held a nest, usually occupied by a diamond-sparrow.  Her nest is round, like a wren’s, with one small entrance and is built roughly of grass, lined with soft, small feathers.  The eggs, numbering four to five in the few nests we disturbed, are white and of the size and shape of our hedge-sparrow’s.  I am pretty sure that the nesting season depends entirely on the rain.  After rain, the birds nest, however irregular the seasons.

As well as small birds, teal had found their way to the clay-pans, and gave us both sport and food.  These water-holes are the tail-end of Wilson’s Creek, on which is sunk Cutmore’s Well, where splendid water was struck at a depth of about eighty feet.  Flood-waters from the creek spread out over these flats, and eventually reach the lake already mentioned, to the South.  The caretaker at the Well occupied his spare time by growing vegetables, and our last meal, with white men near us, for many months to come, was accompanied by pumpkins and turnips.  Camped here, too, was a mob of cattle, about 130 head.  The stockmen told us they had started from the head of the Gascoyne River with 2,000 sheep and 150 bullock’s.  Leaving the station, some four hundred miles to the N.N.W. of Cutmore’s, they travelled by Lake Way, where a fair-sized mining community was then established, and Lawlers, where the advance of civilisation was marked by numerous “pubs.”  Their stock had not suffered from want of food or water—­in fact, a very general rain seemed to have spread from Coolgardie to the Nor’-West.  The cattle and our camels seemed quite friendly; the latter were settling down to work, and could now be allowed to go in their hobbles at night, in place of being tied down.  Only an occasional fight disturbed our sleep; but at the the clay-pans two strangers, wild and savage, caused a deal of trouble, necessitating one or other of us being up all night.  However, we would soon be beyond such annoyances.  At this point our journey might be said to begin, for here we left the last outpost of civilisation, and saw the last white face for some time to come.