We had a very dry and unpalatable breakfast next morning; only a few drops of chocolate-coloured sediment remained in the canvas bag, and this none of us cared to swallow for a variety of reasons. So we munched our hard damper, and chewed refractory portions of tinned dog, imagining it to be the most luxurious fare extant, though, unfortunately our imagination was not of a very strong order. We lost no time in making a start, for the early hours were the coolest for travelling, and we wished to gain the shelter of the brush before the sun had swung right overhead. The camels were truly in a very bad state; they could scarcely bear their usual burdens, and reeled drunken-like for several minutes after being loaded, but seemed to recover somewhat when a few miles had been traversed. Yet, strive as we might, we could not make speedy progress, and it was almost noon when we drew near to the timber. The heat was becoming very intense, and in our semi-famished condition we suffered severely.

"We'll camp in the most shaded part of the scrub, boys," I cried, signing to Mac to alter "Slavery's" course more to westward. Phil now clutched my arm excitedly.

"Is that smoke or a light cloud-patch over the tips of these trees?" he asked, directing my gaze towards a thick clump of lime-trees that lay well ahead in the line of our changed route.

I surveyed the feathery shadow indicated intently. "A native smoke, Phil," I answered, as quietly as I could, though hope sprang up within me at the sight.

"What we must do, then," said Phil determinedly, "is to capture one or two representatives of the tribe and make them lead us to water."

"Me an' Stewart'll shin attend to that," growled Mac, hearing the suggestion with ill-concealed delight.

We were now entering the outskirts of the pigmy forest, and Phil and I took the lead of our caravan with firearms ready in case of attack; while Mac and Stewart, leading their charges warily in our tracks, peered suspiciously into the densest shadows as they passed. The shrubs were of much greater height than we had expected, and soon they surrounded us in thick even growths through which we steered an erratic course with difficulty.

I was about to call a halt when a thick pile of withered branches, propped against the lower heights of some half-dozen close-growing trees, arrested my attention. "A windbreak! Go slow!" I cautioned those in the rear; but soon we found that we were in the midst of quite a number of these rude shelters, all of which seemed to be of very recent erection. "There is evidently a tribe in the vicinity," I said to Phil, who was gazing at the strange contrivances with much curiosity, and noting how differently they were constructed from the crude wind-barriers met during the earlier part of our journey.

"They appear to work on some design here," he remarked thoughtfully; "the branches are interlaced, and the construction might ultimately evolve into a kind of hut or wigwam."

"I am much more concerned about the whereabouts of the population," I said, and I glanced apprehensively through the trees; then we resumed our march. A few minutes more passed in silence as we proceeded with ears alert for the slightest sound.

We were, as nearly as I could guess, about midway through the forest when Mac suddenly gave a yell of mingled joy and surprise.

"Haud on! Haud on!" be shouted. "I see niggers richt forrit a wee bit. Come on, Stewart, an' we'll shin catch are or twa speecimens."

Mac's information was correct. A convenient gap in the foliage had not been overlooked by him, and his sharp eyes had quickly taken in the view directly ahead. His warning had scarcely been given when we crashed through a maze of windbreaks and entered a clearing in the thicket, and there, in the centre of the open space, fully a dozen hideously scarred and painted warriors stood with spears and boomerangs upraised, gazing in our direction. Mac and Stewart were now forcing past me, and it took Phil and me all our time to restrain their ardour. We had instinctively retired into the shelter of the brush, and none too soon, for a hail of spears rustled through the willowy branches and stuck fast without doing any damage.

"Their spears may be poisoned," I said to the indignant pair. "You've got a different sort of savage to deal with in these latitudes."

"They'll get awa'!" Mac roared excitedly. "They'll get awa'!"

"Let me gang," implored Stewart. "I'm that thin they couldna hit me, an' in ony case I'm teuch eneuch tae staun ony pison."

"Get the camels sheltered, boys," I ordered; "we'll try a policy of conciliation in the first place."

My aides-de-camp grumblingly led "Slavery" and "Misery" back a few paces, and Phil examined the chambers of his Colt Navy with considerable impatience. We were by no means hidden by the scraggy branches fringing the open space, and that fact was impressed upon us most plainly when several more well-directed spears glanced along the sand at our feet. Mac fumed, and the hammers of his gun came back with an ominous double click. "You can cover them with your cannon," I said to him, "while I try the powers of persuasive language," and I stepped as boldly as I could out towards the hostile band. "Babba, babba," I cried, with my hands raised in token of peace. They gave a curious gurgle of surprise and retreated before me as if afraid. I repeated as much of the native jargon as I knew, with, as I thought, an exceedingly friendly inflection. Then they recovered themselves, and came rushing towards me. I stood irresolute for an instant, for the warriors had discarded their spears, and I wondered for a brief space whether they were now hurrying to tender their expressions of good-will. When they were within a dozen yards off, however, they united in a shrill scream, and brandished in their right hands most bloodthirsty-looking clubs which they had carried secreted at their backs. Their intention could not now be doubted, and I turned and fled.

"Give them the small-shot barrel, Mac," I cried.

"Sma' shot be d—— d!" he howled in reply, and the boom of his artillery filled my ears as he spoke.

When the smoke cleared away I saw that the blacks had retreated to the extreme end of the clearing, where the bulk of them stood huddled together, groaning horribly, and making most frightful grimaces at us.

Two feather-bedizened warriors were prancing absurdly in the middle distance, and emitting piercing shrieks as they slowly hopped back to rejoin their comrades.

"I aimed low," said Mac apologetically, noting their antics with much satisfaction, "an' I dinna see what they're makin' a' that row aboot."

I was glad to notice that no serious injury had been done to the poor creatures, and, judging by the activity shown by the wounded pair, they were evidently much more frightened than hurt.

"I don't think there is any more fight in them, boys," I said, and I stepped forward, followed by my companions, who tugged at the nose-ropes of the reluctant camels. A few belated missiles, flung in half-hearted fashion, struck the ground at our feet; the blacks still stood in our path, glaring at us sullenly.

"Level your cannon again, Mac," I instructed, "but don't fire."

He obeyed with alacrity, just in time to check a fresh flight of spears. The natives had already acquired a wholesome dread of the formidable-looking breechloader. With ear-splitting yells they scattered before our advance, and in a moment were lost to sight in the forest.

We made a brief halt by the scene of their stand in order to search the near vicinity for water, but not a drop of moisture could be located anywhere around. Wind-breaks were very numerous some little distance back from the enclosure, which showed that we had practically stumbled upon a native village. Yet it must have been only a settlement used as a temporary camp between two known springs, unless the water resources of the district were very cunningly hidden.

"There must be water near at hand," said Phil. "These trees could not grow so freshly otherwise."

"We've missed our one chance, I fear," I answered him sadly. "We ought to have captured one of the natives while we had the opportunity."

"Let us go now," said he; "they cannot be very far off yet."

"We'll gang! we'll gang!" Mac and Stewart cried clamorously together. "We'll shin catch the deevils!"

But I restrained them. "You are both too reckless," I explained, "and we should probably never see you again if you lost your bearings in the bush." I knew that my worthy henchmen would disdain to use any stratagem, and in consequence would surely be speared by the vengeful savages.

"You can trust me, Mac," said Phil grimly. "I'll fetch you a specimen or two to play with," and Mac, noting his unusual fierceness of expression, felt comforted.

Leaving our over-eager companions in charge of the camels, I took a hurried bearing of our position, and dashed off with Phil in the direction taken by the fleeing band. I could still hear the branches crackling before their wild rush, and I hoped that the sound might guide us in our quest. For several minutes we kept up a rapid pace, but we quickly realised that our running powers were not equal to those of the blacks. The blistering sand showered in our faces, and the brittle twigs of the mallee cut us severely. The sun had now reached his meridian, and shot his rays so fiercely upon us that we were soon compelled to reduce our speed. We dared not allow ourselves to perspire, and so lose the little moisture our bodies contained. Meanwhile the vague crackling of the brushwood in the far distance became fainter and fainter, intimating to us very plainly that our intended prisoners were far from our reach. We were weary and hopeless, yet we mechanically continued on. Our thoughts, as may be guessed, were the reverse of pleasant, and we did not care to give them expression. Few would have recognised in Phil, the fresh-faced, merry-spirited young man who had led the Five-Mile rush. His face was now deeply bronzed, and bore the stamp of the hardships encountered, and his firm-set mouth showed a vastly increased force of will.

"The beggars seem to have vanished completely," he said, when we had travelled at least half a mile in silence. "What a tidy row of skeletons we'll make," he added lightly. "'A rale dacent coleckshun,' as Mac would say."

"We'll hear Mac's remarks later," I answered, "and we're not by any means dead yet."

We had now reached a slight dip in the land surface, and in the depression a well-padded native track appeared. We followed it eagerly until it broke off into two trails, forming an acute angle.

"You take one, I'll take the other," I said. "If you find anything signal with your revolver, and I'll do the same, though it is more than likely they lead to the same place."

"All right!" he replied, and we separated.

Hurriedly I sped along, now this way, now that, as the trail twisted and twined in the manner peculiar to most bush tracks, and I seemed to have entered a maze. Then I came to a point where it divided and subdivided, and I hesitated, wondering which branch to follow. I went down on my knees and closely examined the sand at the junction, and after a careful scrutiny I was rewarded by distinguishing the imprint of an aboriginal's ungainly foot at the entrance to one of the offshoots, and I hastened along the course indicated, half stooping and sometimes kneeling, in my extreme anxiety to keep on the pad, which could only be traced with the utmost difficulty.

Gaily-plumaged birds now surrounded me, chattering noisily, and their presence imbued me with hope. There, indeed, must be water near, if I could only find it. My guiding path led me several hundred yards over a sand and gravel surface, through which a stray blade of wiry grass peeped here and there; but gradually the grasses grew closer, and their trampled appearance showed me that some one had only recently crossed that way. I was brought to a halt abruptly. The track had come to an end, and I stood at the edge of a small circular space, in the centre of which a tall lime-tree stretched high above the stunted shrubs adjoining.

The significance of the sight was not altogether lost on me. I had usually found lime-trees and water in close proximity, but here no welcome spring gladdened my eyes, the circle was bare and parched-looking, except on the far-away side, where a rank clump of spinifex lined the gaunt stems of the mallee. I was bitterly disappointed.

"Looks like a circus-ring," I said to myself. "Probably used for holding grand corroborees." I turned away in disgust, and sat down in the sand, heedless alike of snakes, scorpions, or other crawling things. I was trying to consider what our immediate future must be, and my deductions were not cheering. Then I wondered where Phil had gone, and whether his quest had been more successful than mine; but I had heard no signal, therefore, I reasoned, he would be in a somewhat similar plight to myself, or perhaps he had already rejoined Mac and Stewart. I continued my musings in a calmly-resigned state of mind, but was suddenly aroused to alertness; the faint sound of rustling branches reached my ears. I got up speedily and looked all round, but nothing could be seen, and I blamed my too eager fancy for the alarm. Glancing at the sun, and taking a rough compass bearing, I prepared to return to my companions by a direct route through the bush. But again the peculiar sound attracted my attention. My fancy had not deceived me this time, and I surveyed the open space closely, but nothing met my anxious gaze. Then, just as I was leaving the scene, the secret of the rustling branches was revealed, and I smiled grimly at my lack of perception. On the extreme edge of the clearing, half hidden by the spidery tendrils of the sparse fringing bush, two natives lay sprawling on the sand, carefully piling a heap of twigs and spinifex grass, as if in preparation for a large fire. They lay with their backs towards me, pursuing their work with diligence, and as the colour of their bodies was almost similar to that of their surroundings, they were not easily observable, as I had already proved. I noticed with satisfaction that their weapons were strewn in the grass some few yards out of their reach. These comprised two evil-looking waddies and a number of double-barbed spears—a formidable collection, truly. I examined my small S. and W. revolver with purposeful intent, and was on the point of rushing forward when a loud crackle came from another part of the ring. It seemed to me as if a stout branch had given way before some other, and more impetuous, watcher than myself. More natives might be near. I drew back into the shadow. The dusky pair were evidently wildly alarmed; they leapt to their feet and looked about with a startled expression, and then I recognised them as two of those who had so stubbornly contested our advance less than an hour back. They glared at each other terror-stricken, and pointed to the sun and the four corners of the earth in turn, accompanying their odd gesticulations by a stream of monosyllabic utterances. Apparently they were invoking various gods to their aid. In the midst of this pantomime a well-known figure burst into the enclosure from the still swaying scrub, and before the natives could escape he clutched them both in a tight embrace, and bore them back by almost superhuman effort.

"Phil!" I cried in amazement, jumping forward, and relieving him of one of his prisoners.

"We've got them!" he shouted with fierce emotion. "Keep still, you imp of darkness!"

His prisoner was still struggling violently, but soon realised the hopelessness of his efforts, and became quiescent as mine, who was rolling his eyes at me beseechingly.

Then we looked at each other, half in amusement half in surprise, and I noticed that his sole upper garment, his sand-stained shirt, was torn half across the shoulders.

"It caught in a branch," he explained, examining the rent ruefully, "and the noise I made in breaking loose nearly frightened the blacks away."

"But how did you get here?" I asked, for the tracks we had followed seemed to lead very widely apart.

"The trails intersect, but all find their way here," he answered. "Anyhow, I've been watching these beggars building a monument, or something like it, for the last five minutes or so."

"I have had my eye on them also," I said, but I didn't dream of your being so close. Hold my prisoner a moment," I added; "we'll see what they have been doing."

He promptly sat on my savage's neck, while I got up and kicked away the pile of branches. And lo! beneath them lay disclosed a gurgling spring of clearest water.

I could not describe the joy that was ours at that moment. Phil simply gasped with relief, and was not satisfied that his eyes did not deceive him until I lifted some of the sparkling liquid in the palm of my hand and let it trickle slowly through my fingers. The blacks remained passive enough now, only groaning dismally at intervals. It was not difficult to understand why they had attempted to hide the spring. As Stewart had first surmised, they did not want our good company, and who could blame them? There was no need to rejoin our comrades now, so we discharged our revolvers as a signal to them to approach, and soon their familiar voices were heard far back raised in high debate. Mac was apparently holding forth on some pet doctrine with which Stewart doggedly refused to coincide. They had forced their thoughts far away from unpleasant topics; they knew how necessary it was to keep up a semblance of cheerfulness in trying times, and for the rest they trusted to my greater experience and Phil's superior knowledge.

The dwarfed trees broke before the advancing train. Poor old "Slavery" was evidently leading the trail at a harder pace than usual.

"Come alang, 'Slavery'! Wad ye hae me pu' ye?" I heard Mac's voice raised in pathetic entreaty, as the swaying brush about a hundred yards back betokened their near approach. A few minutes more and "Slavery" and "Misery" staggered into the clearing, with Mac and Stewart pulling strenuously at their nose-ropes. The poor beasts' eyes were gleaming strangely, and their breath came in long wheezing groans.

"We can hang oot anither day yet," Mac shouted encouragingly immediately he saw us, trying bravely to look cheerful. Then when he noticed the natives on whom we were comfortably seated his astonishment was great. "Guid heavens!" he ejaculated. "Stewart, we've got them efter a'."

But Stewart had caught sight of the glistening water, and with a fervent exclamation he buried his face in it and drank deeply. The camels now, feeling the tension relieved at their nose-ropes, sank upon their knees dead beat, and their heads drooped in the sand. Phil and I watched the scene in silence: it was as the last act of a drama, with the proverbial happy ending. Mac's rugged features fairly glowed when he saw the saving spring. He strode forward, and jerked his comrade's dripping face from the water. "Dinna mak' a beast o' yerself' he said shortly. "Ower muckle's bad for ye, an' it's ma turn onywey." But they found room for two heads, and Phil said they reduced the level of the water by several inches.

The camels' wants now received attention. We allowed them to drink sparingly only, as they would quickly have drained the well, which refilled very slowly; but before the day was out they had absorbed their full supply, and were on a fair way towards the recovery of their wonted vigour. We camped by the spring, which we named "Warriors' Well," for two days, during which time we were engaged filling the great water-bags, and patching our tattered clothing so as to make a respectable appearance when we arrived at the nearest settlement, now less than a hundred miles distant. We fed our prisoners lavishly on tinned dog and flour while they remained in our charge, and they seemed to appreciate the diet hugely; yet, do what we might, they retained their sullen demeanour, and always howled plaintively when we approached near them. They made their escape on the morning of our departure, much to Mac's disgust. That worthy had conceived the idea of training them to act in the capacity of body-servants to Stewart and himself.

"They would hae been bonnie orniments tae tak' hame tae auld Scotland," he said regretfully.

"We'll be bonnie-like orniments oorsels, Mac," responded Stewart, surveying his dark-brown skin. "We'll be nigger enough like, I'm thinkin'."

We resumed our march with lighter hearts than we had had for many a day. Our journey was practically completed, for our water supply would now last until we reached comparatively sure country. It is true we had not benefited by the expedition as I had hoped when starting, but we had gained a hard knowledge of the country, and of our own powers of endurance under extremely adverse circumstances, which would prove invaluable to us in the further journeyings I was at this stage planning. Phil had become indissolubly connected with my little party. His worth had been demonstrated over and over again, and it was with pleasure I heard his decision, as we drew near settled latitudes, to throw in his lot with mine in my future travels.

"Ye're a man o' pairts, Phil," was Mac's unhesitating verdict, and Stewart added, as a fitting tribute, "I'm o' the same opeenion."

Twelve days after leaving the providentially-found spring we arrived on the north-west coast of Australia, and there disposed of our faithful old camels to ready purchasers. Mac's eyes were moist when he said good-bye to the gentle "Slavery," and Stewart was loath to part with his old charge, "Misery." As they were led away I bestowed a benediction on the trusty servants of our dreary journey, and elicited a promise from their new possessor that he would treat them kindly as they deserved. About a week later we sailed for Sydney.

IN THE AUSTRALIAN BACK-BLOCKS

Australia has attracted much attention from all quarters during the last few years, but to most people the vast interior is still a terra incognita; and even on the streets of Sydney or Melbourne the appearance of a copper-skinned back-blocker excites as much comment as might a being from another planet. The man from "out west" cares little for the opinion of the townsman, however; and if his carriage be not so graceful as that of those whom he so unceremoniously jostles on the pavements of Bourke Street or the "Block," he gets over the ground more quickly; and if his speech be ungrammatical, it is at least expressive, and only used when absolutely necessary.

The back-blocks, generally, are the western division of Queensland and New South Wales; and although in some parts of the former State the hardy squatter has established himself well out into the great desert, the country inside the "run" of his domain is probably unprospected, and outside entirely unexplored. In this almost boundless tract of country, where the bush merges into the silent desert, the back-blocker has his home, and, indifferent to the flight of time and the struggle and worries attending existence in the outside world, he leads a life of untrammelled independence.

Only occasionally does a stranger come among these sons of freedom; and if he once sees "where the pelican builds its nest," or experiences the strange fascination of the desert camp-fire circle, he will not soon leave them. The new-comer may be fresh from the old home-land, an outcast from continental Europe, or a wanderer from the crowded cities on the Australian coast-line; but in all cases he is welcomed, and soon he speaks in the same quaint dialect, forgets his past, and becomes a child of fortune.

"But how do you manage to exist? This place would not support a rabbit," I said to an assembly of those men one evening in Queensland. I had struck their camp while endeavouring with a companion to cycle from Spencer Gulf to the Gulf of Carpentaria; and our surprise may be imagined when, hundreds of miles from the nearest settlement, as we thought, their camp-fire suddenly appeared in front of us. There were about twelve men in the party, and, as it was just sundown, we naturally camped beside them, and, prompted by the somewhat elaborate preparations being made for supper, I had put my question.

"Oh, not too bad," a tall and gaunt Queenslander answered. "We keeps a team of our own always on the move with stores from the nearest township."

"But that must cost a lot of money so far out as this. How do you earn——?"

"We can always make tucker shootin' kangaroos and emus for their skins; an' if any man wants a cheque bad, for a spell or anything, he can always go shearing inside country. Of course we takes turns at opalling, if we strikes a good show; an' if thar's any new gold discoveries, we git there quick an' lively."

"But you can never make a fortune at work so uncertain?"

"Lor'! mate, but you is hard to please. Here, Charlie; you lend a hand here; this stranger's fresh, an' I is no good pitchin'——" Charlie stepped forward, and at once relieved his comrade of the burden of conversation.

"You reckons we can't make no money?" he said. "Well, I reckons ye is wrong. How about old Tyson, the millioner? An' how about Gilgai Charlie sitting over there?—my handle is Vic Charlie, cos' I comes from Victoria—he made four thousan' clear outen his opal claim only last week; an', darn it all, mate! there's Shandy Bill, that little fellow on yer left, he made ten ounces yesterday jes' by dry-blowing in a pan——"

"Ten ounces! of copper?"

"No—of gold; an' Long Tom here shot one hundred and twenty-three kangaroos at ninepence each——"

"Did you say that your companion found gold?"

"I reckon I did, stranger, an' what's more, we has all dropped on to gold."

"What! There is no gold so far west as this."

"So we was told, mate. Them as is supposed to know, say there can be no gold west of the ranges; but you can allow that this push knows gold when they see it, an'—but show it to him, Shandy." Shandy instantly detached a leather pouch from his belt, and without a word put it into my hands.

"That is gold without doubt," I said, handing it back; "I know by the weight." Vic Charlie seemed surprised at my knowledge of the metal, but he said nothing.

"Does you know much about minerals?" inquired an elderly man who had been listening intently to the conversation.

"I have prospected in most countries," I answered, "and ought to know all that is worth knowing by this time, for the experience was about all I did get."

"Tucker!" sang out some one. "Git table-covers for the visitors, an' look lively." My own companion, while I was talking, had been engaged in similar fashion in the centre of another group, and I smiled to see how intensely interested were his listeners. He was not seeking information, I knew, but from the unconscious ejaculations which frequently arose from his audience, I guessed that he was imparting some; and his selections were invariably strange and wonderful. The cry of "Tucker," however, created a diversion, and during the half-hour that followed, all apparently had but one object in view, and being blessed with a healthy appetite, that same object was very pleasing to me. I was placed between a gentleman called Dead-broke Peter and one dubbed Silent Ted. I afterwards discovered that Peter had been a member of the New Zealand Parliament, but Long Tom introduced him simply as the best talker in camp. I suppose it was to balance matters that the thoughtful Tom placed Ted on my other side, for he never spoke.

"He is a first-class cook an' a most extraordinar' thinker, though," said Tom; and as Ted's corrugated but wonderfully expressive face beamed at the compliment, I saw that a tongue to him was quite unnecessary. The night was very dark, and as the fitful fire-flashes lit up the surrounding gloom and cast fantastic shadows of the squatting men on the sands behind them, the scene was indeed weird. Towards the end of the meal Dead-broke Peter began a conversation, at first very general in character, and which I easily sustained without interrupting my study of the men around; but before I realised that Peter was a man with a past, I found myself floundering in the subject of astronomy hopelessly beyond my depths.

"Yes," I said, endeavouring to collect my senses, "it is wonderful how the science has advanced, but I cannot understand how you have made the heavens a clock."

"Oh, that is a simple matter," he replied. "Canopus sets behind Warrego plains at half-past nine at present; take that fact for your unit, and then the positions of the Cross will indicate plainly, even to minutes, the divisions of the night. But look at that poor snake crawling out of the hollow stump beside you; that means a cyclonic disturbance is approaching——"

"Great Scot! That's a black snake. Look out, boys!" I cried, springing to my feet. Ted, who had been drinking in every word spoken, quietly reached over, and catching the wriggling creature by the tail, skilfully swung it round his shoulder and brought its head forcibly against the log. The snake must have been killed instantly: but its long body quivered convulsively for a moment, and then with a sudden jerk shot backwards and coiled tightly round Ted's arm. To my surprise, none of his comrades troubled even to look at Ted during this performance: all, with the exception of Peter and himself, were absorbing the words of my very Scotch companion, who was relating with powerful dramatic effect some peculiar experiences of his in other parts of the world. But evidently Ted did not expect any attention, for without uttering a sound he arose, shook his encumbrance into the fire, and sat down again, with a look on his face that plainly said to us, "Go on! What have you stopped for?"

Peter politely directed my gaze to a nine-inch centipede that was prospecting across my boots, and then launched into a discourse on theological matters, which in time led into the supernatural, and finally narrowed down to a discussion on the mysterious rites of the aborigines' Bora.

"Little Bob, that tall man sitting next your companion, has had much experience among the natives of the north," Peter said, "and if you could only get him to talk he could tell some marvellous tales."

I looked over to the other side of the fire, and saw that Little Bob was the individual who had asked the extent of my mineral knowledge. "I have heard some tall stories of their corroborrees, Ghingis, and Bunyips," I answered; "but no white man has ever seen anything that could not be easily explained."

"Think not? Perhaps you are right, but my experience leads me to think differently. There is a Bunyip's pool seventeen miles from here—in fact, we get our water from it; but there is not a man in this camp who would go near it at night for—well for anything. And as for the corroborrees, there are men here who have actually gone through a series of them, and if you stay with us, or travel northwards, you will probably see some for yourself."

Peter's words interested me greatly, so, careful not to interrupt his flow of eloquence, I soon became as silent as the gentleman on my left, and was rewarded by hearing a most wonderful account of the dreaded Bunyip—that strange mysterious creature, half fish and half fiend, the very sight of which, it is said, means death to the unfortunate beholder. I had often heard of this "dweller in the waters" from half-caste aborigines in New South Wales, and knew that it was supposed to live in the subterranean pools which abound throughout the Australian interior; but I never imagined that white men could be so firmly convinced of its existence as were my present companions.

"It's in the Brumbie's water-hole, you can bet your life," said a strangely deformed man, who had joined our group when the name was mentioned.

"How do you know? Have you seen it?" I inquired.

"No, an' doesn't want to; but Jack Ford did."

"And where is he?"

"Ask Sam Wilkins. He's the only glory prospector here."

"What has he to do with it?"

"Lor'! stranger, if he doesn't know where Jack went, no one here does. Jack was as fine a mate as iver I met; but whether he staked off a claim up aloft, or pegged out in the other place, I'm darned if I knows. He saw the Bunyip one full moon, an' croaked the next day."

I now noticed that all the men had gathered round our little group, and before I could further question the speaker, Long Tom broke in. "Is ye in a hurry to git up to the Gulf country?" he said.

"Not particularly," I answered.

"Yer mate tells us you is a great mineralogist?"

"Oh, no,—not great; but I know a little of the science."

"Does ye know what that is?" Tom opened a sack as he spoke and took out a greenish mass of something.

"That is copper sulphide. Where did you get it?"

"Mate, if it's any good, there's hundreds and thousands o' tons o' it lyin' on top not mor'n fifty mile from here. But what is this?"

"Why, that is native silver; and that conglomeration in Ted's hand is an ironstone formation carrying gold——"

"Say, mate," interrupted Little Bob, "does ye know what this is?" He held in the palm of his hand a mixture resembling tea in appearance, but which after tasting I knew could not be that substance, "Ah! ye is bested, mate, an' I is glad," continued Bob. "I knows ye is honest now, an' don't skite when ye doesn't know."

"Thank you; but what is it?"

"Pidcherie, stranger. Money can't buy it. It comes from the Mullagine swamps; an' gold nor lead wouldn't make a black fellow part with it. Swallow that, an' you can dance in the fire an' not feel nothin'; cut yourself in little bits an' you'll think it fun. Only the niggers knows what it is, an' no white men barrin' us back boys has iver got any——"

"Time for that again, Little Bob," cried Long Tom, "The question just now is, Will the stranger jine us? Yous can git two shares an' we does all the work," he added, turning to me.

"But, Mr.—that is—Peter here knows more than I do. He——"

"Him!" snorted Tom. "Mate, he's the most on-reasonable man in camp. When he starts talking we can't stop him; an' when he is stopped, darn me if we can start him." I turned to see how my late entertainer took these words, but he was lying back on the sand—asleep. Finally, after much quaint reasoning, the men persuaded us to try our luck with them, at least for a time. "Yous can leave us when you like, if it doesn't pay," was Tom's summing up; but as he had just told me of a sand-patch in which tucker could be made by dry-panning, and of a "darned curious country across the Cooper" which was on fire with opal lying on the surface, I thought that the adventure was well worth any risk in that direction. We were still talking when the Southern Cross dipped behind the Grey Ranges; but before we stretched ourselves on the sand to rest it was decided that I and three others should set out in the morning to inspect the opal formations beyond the Cooper, and pending our report as to its value, the others would keep up the funds by kangaroo-shooting and dry-blowing for gold.

Next morning with the first faint streaks of dawn we were ready. Mac and I had our cycles, which we stripped of all their previous accoutrements, and Kangaroo George and Gilgai Charlie rode two of the finest horses in Queensland.

"Be good boys," cried Long Tom, as we prepared to move off after breakfast.

"There is a willy-willy coming soon, so watch where you camp," warned Dead-broke Peter; and without more ado we plunged into a clump of gidgyas, and in a few minutes burst out on the ironshot plain. Neither George nor Charlie was inclined to waste his wisdom on the desert air, and even Mac found it advisable to keep his mouth closed when the fine clouds of sand began to rise. For hours we headed due west, dining at noon, in the open, on a piece of damper and some cold mutton, washed down with an extremely sparing amount of muddy fluid from our water-bags, and then going on again. Before sundown we reached a dried-up creek, where, after scraping in the sand among the roots of a solitary lime-tree, we found sufficient liquid for the horses, which we then hobbled and went into camp, fully forty miles from our starting-point. The sun was now racing down on the western horizon, and the desert around seemed like a sea of gold. The day had been oppressively hot, and consequently we expected that night would be kept lively by the many pests. Nor were we mistaken. Just as our surroundings became blurred in the shadows of night a dingo's dismal howl broke the strange stillness, and then the blood-curdling shrieks of some laughing-jackasses in the tree above irritated us almost beyond endurance. The mosquitoes next joined in, sinking their sawlike suckers deep into our sun-blistered skin; and when the mournful "morepork" added its depressing note, the desert orchestra was completed.

"I reckon there's a storm comin'," remarked George, as he assisted a small death-adder into the fire.

"For onysake let it come, then," growled Mac. "A dinna see what ye've got to complain aboot. Da—— darn it!!"

"Is ye bit, Scottie?" inquired Charlie. "Lor'! there's a centipede on your neck. It feels like red-hot coal, doesn't it?" he added sympathetically.

"No," groaned Mac; "it's a rale cooling sensation; but, here, feel for yersel'." He poised the creature on a twig as he spoke, and skilfully landed it on Charlie's back, and the yell that followed might have awakened a Bunyip, had there been such a monster within five miles.

"Shut up! darn ye, Charlie!" roared George, lifting a nicely browned damper from the ashes; "ye has set the black fellows' ghosts off again. Lor'! just listen to 'em."

"Hurry up with that damper, George," I interrupted—"that is, if there's no snakes in it."

"There's many things worse than snakes, boss," innocently replied George; "they is prime, if ye roast 'em an' has got any salt——"

"Haud yer tongue, man, or A'll mak' a corroborree o' ye," roared the hungry Mac, and I had to interfere hastily to prevent bloodshed.

The memory of that night's tortures still haunts me. The desert was alive with all sorts of reptiles and insects, and from my companions, as they rolled sleeplessly in the sand, many short but heartfelt expressions arose which I dare not repeat. At sunrise we set out again, and all day travelled westward over country similar to that which we had already passed, camping at night on an "Ana" branch or backwater of the famous Cooper, and enduring another night of misery.

"I reckon we should be near the Ghingi's opal now," said George as we resumed our journey on the third day; "but say, boss, what's wrong with the ole sun? or is it the willy-willy?" There certainly was reason for George's question, for the sun as it shot up over the edge of the plains seemed merely a dull red ball; but the gem-shot haze which danced between showed the cause, and I realised that a cloud formed of minute particles of sand was partly obscuring it from view.

"We'll get across the main river and look for shelter," I said, "for evidently this storm has been working up for some days." We crossed the "Ana" channel and proceeded slowly, for the ground was now broken up as if by volcanic agencies. I was anxious to see the Cooper, the great inland sea of the early pioneers, but to my astonishment no water was yet in evidence as far as the eye could reach; so, leading our steeds, we picked our way over the cleft and burnt ironstone.

"These is the Ghingi's holes," said Charlie, as we came to some unusually large and deep chasms, "an' keep your eyes open, for there should be opal here."

"Whaur has that patent river got tae, I wunner," muttered Mac. "I never had muckle faith in Australian rivers, an' I doot the nearest water-hole in the way we're goin' is the Indian Ocean."

"Say, boss," suddenly said George, "how far is it to the war?"

"Oh, South Africa is about seven thousand miles from here. Are you thinking of going?"

"Well, some of the boys was talking that way; but none o' us knew the country, nor if the track was to sunrise or sundown."

"Africa is west from here, George."

"Is ther enuff water for horses on the trail?"

"Why, man! you cross the ocean."

"Well, I reckon old Joy here can cross anything; but it beats me to know how a fellow can carry tucker. I s'pose there is plenty stations on the road, though?" I looked at George in amazement, and Mac grinned with delight.

"Maybe they wouldn't want us, Kangaroo," put in Charlie; "but I reckon we can ride anything as has feet, an' shoot——"

"Lie down flat, mates!" shouted George; "here's the willy-willy."

I turned and saw a huge black wall gyrating wildly towards us. A roar like that of thunder filled the air, followed by a sound as of waves breaking upon a rocky beach. A fierce blast of back-drawn sand struck my face, and as I threw myself down I felt as if drowning for a moment; then a hail of stones, scrub, and sand rushed over me, tearing my clothes to shreds, and penetrating my skin like shot, while a thick blackness blotted out everything around. I lay still, conscious that a deposit of sand was fast covering me; but I also felt that the suffocating tension was already becoming less severe, and next minute a current of moist cool air, delightfully soothing to my sand-blasted skin, swept over the desert, and I sat up. It was still dark; but the awful vortex had passed, and away to the west I could still hear the indescribable rumbling sound of the flying boulders among the Ghingi holes.

"Is we all here?" sounded Charlie's voice close beside me, and I felt relieved when I heard the muffled responses of my comrades, for I knew that if caught in the centre of such a storm we had just escaped, nothing living could withstand it. I groped for my cycle, and moistened my throat with the damp sand that now filled the water-bag, noticing, as some of the contents spilled down my neck, that the temperature must have fallen considerably, for the accident caused me to shiver.

"Ye talk aboot gaun into the Australian interior," spoke Mac dolorously, as he in turn swallowed a mouthful, "but I'm thinkin' that a lot o' Australia has gone into mine."

"Never mind, Mac," I replied, as we all crawled towards each other, "here comes the first rain we have had since leaving Adelaide, and if the horses are all right, so are we."

"I reckon they is O.K.," said Charlie; "they knows more than most people, them horses."

While he was speaking we cast off our scanty garments and revelled in the refreshing drops; but rain in the back-blocks is worth more than its weight in gold, and this shower only lasted about a minute, and passed on in the wake of the willy-willy. Shortly afterwards the darkness rolled away to the west like a huge receding screen, and near us we saw the two horses rolling on the ground with evident enjoyment. But I did not ask my companions how it was that our four-footed friends had escaped so lightly, for my attention was attracted by a scintillating streak of something on the edge of a small hole, and as my eyes became used to the now blinding glare of the sun, I saw that the whole surface of the desert was literally blazing with small points of colour.

"Lor'!" exclaimed my Australian comrades simultaneously, "we has struck the very place after all."

"Ay, mon," said Mac wrathfully; "an' hoo did ye no' ken that afore?"

"'Cos the opal was dead," replied George, "an' the rain has made it 'live again."

Mac looked suspiciously at the speaker; but Charlie added that "dead" and "live" were terms used in speaking of dull opal that could be made to flash as if alive by the application of water. This explained why we had not seen the gems before, and without troubling to inquire where the Cooper had gone, or how—if Charlie and George were correct—we had got to the other side of it, we attacked the ironstone boulders with our small hand-picks.

"Every gibber's got an opal heart," remarked George, smashing a large boulder to fragments.

"Take care, then," I warned, "or you will break it too."

"Then how is we to do it, boss?" inquired Charlie, poising his pick in mid-air. "Does ye think it will come out if we whistle on it?"

I did not; nor to this day have I found how to get that opal out intact. We tried every method that could be devised, but without success, for each time we broke the outer casing the more brittle core was also shattered by the blow. Patiently and laboriously we chipped the ironstone, only to find that the gem was in powder form when we reached it. We then tried roasting the stones, carrying them to a small clump of stunted gidgyas for that purpose; but found then, that although the shell broke with less hammering, the "life" of the opal was destroyed by the heat, and a dull lump of glass-like substance was all our reward.

For two days we wandered among the Ghingi holes trying specimens continually, but with the same results, and at last I was convinced that further work under the circumstances was useless. The horses were now beginning to suffer for want of proper food, and I saw that the water question would also trouble us as soon as the pools formed by the willy-willy shower had evaporated. Cooper's creek as a flowing stream had ceased to exist. Probably its waters, or all that seven years' drought had left of them, had gone to feed that strange tide which ebbs and flows so mysteriously under the heart of the great Lone Land; but in its old channels we saw only dead and dying creatures of the desert, and the banks were simply a nursery for fever germs.

"I reckon we'll have to give it best," at length said Gilgai Charlie, and I could see no alternative.

"If sufficient rain came, we might be able to bring a team out," I said, "and cart a load of boulders back to Eromango. If we could not there get the ironstone dissolved with acid, we could at least send them to Brisbane and get them cut.

"That's all right, boss," spoke George, "but I reckon we might as well look for gold nuggets droppin' from the sky as enough water for a team." And I knew he was right.