hin the Colony of West Australia. Water was plentiful, and a depot camp
was formed, Giles and Gibson making a flying trip ahead to the westward.
The furthest point was reached on April 23, 1874, from which the Alfred
and Marie was visible some twenty-five miles distant. At this point
Gibson's horse "knocked up," and shortly afterwards died. Giles thereupon
gave up his own horse, the Fair Maid of Perth, and sent his companion
back to the depot for relief; for it was clear that only one could ride
the horse, and he who did so, by hurrying on, could return and save his
companion. With a wave of his hat, he shouted goodbye to his generous
leader and rode off. "This was the last ever seen of Gibson." It appears
that the poor fellow failed to follow back the outgoing tracks, got lost
in the night, became hopelessly "bushed," and perished, alone in the
desert. Giles meanwhile struggled on and on, every hour expecting relief,
which of course never came. At last he staggered into camp, nearly dead.

No time was lost in saddling fresh horses, and Tietkens and his exhausted
companion set out in search of the missing man. Picking up the Fair
Maid's tracks, they followed them until they were four days out from
camp, and it became clear that to go further meant sacrificing not only
their own lives but that of their mate left behind at the depot, as well
as that of all the horses. Gibson's tracks when last seen were leading in
a direction exactly opposite to that of the camp. Luckily the cold
weather (April) stood their horses in good stead; but in spite of this
and of the water they packed for them, the horses only managed to crawl
into camp. It was manifestly impossible to make further search, for
seventy miles of desert intervened between the depot-camp and the tracks
when last seen; and the mare was evidently still untired. So, sorrowfully
they retraced their steps to the East, and the place of Gibson's death
remains a secret still. I have heard that months after Giles's return,
Gibson's mare came back to her home, thin and miserable, and showing on
her belly and back the marks of a saddle and girth, which as she wasted
away had become slack and so turned over. Her tracks were followed back
for some distance without result. Poor thing! she had a long journey, and
Giles must have spoken truly when he said, "The Fair Maid was the gamest
horse I ever rode."

Giles's account of this desert shows that the last twenty years have
done li