yet to be travelled before we
should reach the abodes of civilisation, the intervening country had
all been previously explored by myself. For a full account of my
former explorations into this region, I must refer my reader to the
chapters on my second expedition. The first water we reached in the
Rawlinson Range was at a rock-hole about ten miles eastwards from the
Circus water, the place from whence Gibson and I started to explore to
the west. His death, the loss of all the horses, and my struggles to
regain my depot on foot, are they not written in the chronicles of
that expedition?

On reaching my former depot at Fort McKellar, I found the whole place
so choked up with shrubs and bushes, that it was quite impossible to
camp there, without wasting a week in cutting the vegetation away,
although it had formerly been sufficiently open for an explorer's
camp. The spring was running as strong as ever. The bridge had been
washed away. However, at less than a mile from it, there was Tyndall's
Spring, with an open shady space, among the clump of fine gum-trees,
which gave us an excellent camping-place. Here the camp remained for
some days. A line of green bulrushes fringed this spring. While the
main party camped here, I once more tried to find some remains or
traces of my lost companion Gibson, taking with me only Tommy Oldham.
It was quite a forlorn hope, as Gibson had gone away with only one
horse; and since we reached the range, we had passed over places where
I knew that all the horses I then had with me had gone over the
ground, but no signs of former horse-tracks could be seen, therefore
the chance of finding any traces of a single animal was infinitesimal.
Tommy and I expended three days in trying to discover traces, but it
was utterly useless, and we returned unsuccessful to the depot.

Singular to say, on this attempt I found a place west from the end,
the Rawlinson Range, where there were some rock-holes on a grassy
mulga flat, but we did not require the water, as the camels would not
drink. Had I come upon this spot when I was in this region before, it
might have saved Gibson and all the horses that were lost with him. I
called this little watered spot, Tommy's Flat; the latitude of it is
24 degrees 52' 3". It bears 9 degrees south of west from a peculiar
red sandhill that is visible from any of the hills at the western
extremity of the Rawlinson Range; and lies in a flat or hollow between
the said red sandh