o
Bishop Creek, as the horses have now been two nights without water.
Started at 7 o'clock, same course, 315 degrees, through scrub and a light
sandy soil. At four miles got to the rise, which is a scrubby sand-hill.
From this I can see nothing, the scrub being so thick; it is of a nasty,
tough, wiry description, and has torn our hands and saddle-bags to
pieces. I got up a tree to look over the top of this scrub, which is
about twelve feet high, and I could see our course for a long distance;
it appears to be the same terrible scrub, with no sign of any creeks. It
is very vexing to get thus far, and have to turn back, when perhaps
another day's journey would bring me to a better country. I shall now try
a south course, and cut the grassy plains to the westward, in the hope of
finding water; if so, I shall be able to make two days' journey to the
north-west. Started on a south course for fourteen miles, through scrub
and small grassy plains alternately, but we could find neither creek nor
water. I now regret that I attempted the south course, which makes the
distance from the water so much greater. Wind still south-east; heavy
clouds coming from the north-west, I trust it will rain before morning.

Sunday, 10th June, Grassy Plains. Started at sunrise, and at two miles
again got into the scrub. Three of the horses we can scarcely get along;
they are very much done up. At 11 o'clock, one horse gave in altogether.
We cannot get him up; we have tried everything in our power to do
something for him. The other horses have been carrying his load, and he
has had nothing to carry for this last hour and a half; all our efforts
are in vain, and I am obliged, although with great reluctance, to leave
him to his fate. Had this occurred nearer the water, I should have put an
end to his existence and taken part of him to eat, for we are now very
short of provisions, and the other horses have quite enough to carry
without sharing his load; I wish I had left him sooner. At 12 o'clock, I
find I shall lose some more of them, if they do not get water to-night,
and it will be to-morrow before I can reach Bishop Creek. I shall now go
to Short range and try to find some. The little bay mare Polly has become
nearly mad, running about among the other horses, and kicking them as she
passes; even the men do not escape from her heels. At five miles made the
range. There are no large creeks coming from this side--nothing but small
ones which empty the