the matter over calmly, Eyre judged, from the
position of the body, that Baxter must have been aroused by the two
natives plundering the camp, and that, getting up hastily to stop them,
he was immediately shot. His first care was to put his rifle into
serviceable condition, and then, when morning broke, he hastened to leave
the ill-omened place. It was impossible to bury the body of his murdered
companion; one unbroken sheet of rock covered the surface of the country
for miles in every direction. Well might Eyre write, many years
afterwards:--

"Though years have now passed away since the enactment of this tragedy,
the dreadful horrors of that time and scene are recalled before me with
frightful vividness, and make me shudder even now when I think of them. A
lifetime was crowded into those few short hours, and death alone may blot
out the impressions they produced."

The two murderers followed the white man and boy during the first day,
evading all Eyre's attempts to bring them to close quarters, and calling
to the remaining boy, Wylie, who refused to go to them. They disappeared
the next morning, and must have died miserably of thirst and starvation.

Seven days passed without a drop of water for the horses, before they
reached the end of the line of cliffs, and providentially came to a
native well amid the sand dunes. From this point water was more
frequently obtained, and what wretched horses they had left showed feeble
symptoms of renewed life. At last, when their rations were completely
exhausted, they sighted a ship at anchor in Thistle Cove. She proved to
be the Mississippi, commanded by Captain Rossitur, the whaler already
referred to as the first foreign vessel to enter Port Lincoln; and once
more Eyre had to give thanks for relief at a most critical moment.

For ten days, in the hospitable cabin of the French whaler, he forgot his
sufferings, and regained some of his lost strength. Then, provided with
fresh clothes and provisions, and with his horses freshly-shod, Eyre
recommenced his weary pilgrimage, and, in July, 1841, arrived at his
long-desired goal, King George's Sound.

In reflecting upon this painful march of Eyre's round the Great Bight,
one feels an exceeding great pity that so much heroic suffering should
have been spent on the execution of a purpose the fulfilment of which
promised but little of economic value. The maritime surveys had fairly
established the fact that no considerable creek or r