rink. Every rock-hole we had
seen--but one--was dry. Alexander Spring would be dry. We should have to
make for the Empress Spring, fifty miles beyond. Every thing pointed to
the probability of this sequence of events, therefore the greatest care
must be exercised. The horses would die within a few miles, but the
camels were still staunch in spite of the weakening effect of the
sand-ridges, so there was no need for anxiety. Yet we could not help
feeling anxious; one's nerves get shaky from constant wear and tear, from
want of food and rest. We had been in infinitely worse positions than
this; in fact, with health and strength and fresh camels no thought of
danger would have been entertained, but it is a very different matter
after months of constant strain on body and mind. Faith--that is the
great thing, to possess--faith that all is for the best, and that all
will "pan out" right in the end.

The days were closing in now, the nights were cold, so we were away
before sunrise, and, leaving the rolling sand, came again into mulga
thickets, with here and there a grassy flat, timbered with bloodwoods--the
tail end of a creek no doubt rising in the sandstone cliffs we had seen
ahead of us. Shortly after one o'clock a sight, that brought more joy to
us than to any Robinson Crusoe, met our eyes--a track, a fresh footprint
of a gin. Whether to follow it forward or back? That was the question. On
this might hang more than the lives of the horses. In nine cases out of
ten it is safer to follow them forward--this was the tenth! "Which way?"
said Godfrey, who was steering. "Back," said I, for what reason I cannot
say. So back we followed the lady to see where she had camped, twisting
and turning, now losing her tracks, and, casting, finding them again,
until we were ready to stamp with impatience and shout D--n the woman!
why couldn't she walk straight? Two hours brought us our reward, when an
opening in the scrub disclosed a deep-banked creek, fringed with
white-stemmed gums, and, beyond, a fire and natives camped. They all ran,
nor did we care, for water must be there. Glorious sight! a small and
green-scummed puddle, nestling beneath the bank, enclosed by a bar of
rock and the bed of shingle. Before many minutes we had the shovels at
work, and, clearing away the shingle and sand, found a plentiful supply.
All HAD ended well, and just in time to save the horses. Considering the
want of feed, and the hardships they had already suff