hristened Mount Gordon, after Mr. Gordon Lyon,
and Mount Everard, after Mr. Everard Browne, respectively.

Mount Gordon is flat-topped; and Mount Everard a double hill, a peak
rising from a flat top, bears 82 degrees from the well. This range stood
out boldly from the open country and promised well for hilly country
ahead. Nor were we disappointed, for after two hours' travel we sighted
an imposing-looking range, and altered our course to the highest point, a
queer dome-shaped peak, which we called Charlie's Knob, since he had
first seen the hills. On nearer approach the hills lost much of their
grandeur. By camping-time we were close to their foot amongst rocky
rises, very rough to the feet of our animals. They were rewarded for
their discomforts by a small patch of herbage which they quickly
demolished. That night we heard the dismal howling of two dingoes, who
might either be giving expression to their satisfaction at finding water
or to their disappointment at not having done so. Three miles more of
rugged ground the next morning brought us to Charlie's Knob, and beyond
it the range, which on close examination was not imposing, being a series
of detached sandstone hills, their summits flat and slightly sloping to
the South, capped with a hard reddish-brown rock (baked shale). On the
cap, loose fragments of shale and thick scrub; forming its sides sheer
cliffs, at most fifteen feet high, perforated by holes and caves, above
rough, stony banks. The whole covered with tufts of spinifex, barren,
wretched, and uninviting.

On Charlie's Knob a queer little natural pinnacle of rock stands half-way
up the side, and from a hill close by, an excellent view of the Browne
Range was obtained, Mount Gordon bearing 148 degrees. With the help of my
field-glasses I could make out the character of this range to be similar
to that of the Young Range on which I was standing. It is of course
necessary to name these hills for future reference, and this range got
its name from somebody's remark that it was hardly full grown. From the
knob the hills run in a crescent, a line joining the two horns being
North-East. In the bend of the crescent I could see some very
green-looking bloodwoods and made sure we should find a creek. First we
hunted the neighbouring hills without success, and then crossed on to the
bloodwood flat which had appeared like a creek. Here for the only time
our patience in carrying the gun was rewarded, and Charlie shot