lief, we had to push on. Guts gave in on
the stones; I let him go and walked to the water. I need scarcely say
how thirsty we all were. On reaching the water, and wasting no time,
Mr. Tietkens and I returned to the three fallen horses, taking with us
a supply of water, and using the Fair Maid, Widge, Formby, and Darkie;
we went as fast as the horses could go. On reaching the little cob we
found him stark and stiff, his hide all shrivelled and wrinkled, mouth
wide open, and lips drawn back to an extraordinary extent. Pushing on
we arrived where Diamond and Pratt had fallen. They also were quite
dead, and must have died immediately after they fell; they presented
the same appearance as the little cob. Thus my visit to the North-west
Mountain had cost the lives of four horses, Bluey, Diamond, Pratt, and
the cob. The distance they had to travel was not great--less than
ninety miles--and they were only two nights without water; but the
heat was intense, the country frightful, and to get over the distance
as soon as possible, we may have travelled rather fast. The horses had
not been well off for either grass or water at starting, and they were
mostly footsore; but in the best of cases, and under the most
favourable start from a water, the ephemeral thread of a horse's life
may be snapped in a moment, in the height of an Australian summer, in
such a region as this, where that detestable vegetation, the triodia,
and high and rolling sandhills exist for such enormous distances. The
very sight of the country, in all its hideous terrors clad, is
sufficient to daunt a man and kill a horse. I called the vile mountain
which had caused me this disaster, Mount Destruction, for a visit to
it had destroyed alike my horses and my hopes. I named the range of
which it is the highest point, Carnarvon Range.

We returned again to the Gorge of Tarns, as Mr. Tietkens very tritely
remarked, sadder but wiser men. Our position here is by no means
enviable, for although there is plenty of permanent water in this
range, it appears to be surrounded by such extensive deserts that
advance or retreat is equally difficult, as now I had no water in
tanks or otherwise between this and Fort Mueller, and not a horse
might ever reach that goal. I am again seated under the splashing
fountain that falls from the rocks above, sheltered by the sunless
caverns of this Gorge of Tarns, with a limpid liquid basin of the
purest water at my feet, sheltered from the he