tened were both the men by the prospect. And throughout
those long weeks of starvation that ensued, Carron refrained from
crushing all hope in his comrades by communicating to them Kennedy's
despair of relief.

For three weeks Kennedy struggled on, cutting his path through the scrub,
and, with dwindling strength, clambering across the spurs of the range.
For the story of his struggles and eventual death Australia has had to
rely on the report of the only survivor, the faithful Jacky-Jacky. They
reached Shelburne Bay, where one of the men accidentally shot himself,
and became so weak from loss of blood that it was impossible for him to
move. As another man, Luff, was sick, Kennedy left the third man, Dunn,
to attend to his two comrades, and pushed on alone with the native boy.
He had actually gained the Escape River, within sight of Albany Island,
when his fate overtook him, and, surrounded by the blood-thirsty foes who
had so long and persistently hung upon his footsteps, he fell at last
beneath their spears.

The story is best told in Jacky's own words, although it has been often
repeated. They had come across some natives whom Kennedy was inclined to
trust, but of whom Jacky was suspicious, and that night they camped in
the scrub, foodless and fireless.

"I and Mr. Kennedy," said Jacky, "watched them that night, taking it in
turns every hour that night. By and by I saw the blackfellows. It was a
moonlight night, and I walked up to Mr. Kennedy and said: 'There is
plenty of blackfellows now;' this was in the middle of the night. Mr.
Kennedy told me to get my gun ready.

"The blacks did not know where we slept, as we did not make a fire. We
both sat up all night. After this daylight came and I fetched the horses
and saddled them. Then we went a good way up the river, and then we sat
down a little while, and then we saw three blackfellows coming along our
track, and then they saw us, and one ran back, as hard as he could run,
and fetched up plenty more, like a flock of sheep almost. I told Mr.
Kennedy to put the saddles on the horses and go on, and the blacks came
up and they followed us all day. All along it was raining. I now told him
to leave the horses and come on without them, that horses made too much
track. Mr. Kennedy was too weak, and would not leave the horses. We went
on this day until the evening; raining hard and the blacks followed us
all day, some behind, some planted before. In fact, blackfellows all
r