t come back.
This was the note that Wills left:--

May 30th, 1861. We have been unable to leave the creek. Both camels are
dead. Burke and King are down on the lower part of the creek. I am about
to return to them, when we shall probably all come up here. We are trying
to live the best way we can, like the blacks, but we find it hard work.
Our clothes are going fast to pieces; send provisions and clothes as soon
as possible.

The depot party having left contrary to instructions has put us into this
fix. I have deposited some of my journals here for fear of accidents.

WILLIAM J. WILLS.

Having done this, and once more carefully concealed all traces of the
cache having been disturbed, Wills rejoined his companions in misfortune.
Some friendly natives fed him on his way back to them.

During the intercourse that of necessity they had with the natives along
Cooper's Creek, they had noticed the extensive use made by them of the
seeds of the nardoo plant; but for a long time they had been unable to
find this plant, nor would the blacks show it to them. At last King
accidentally found it, and by its aid they managed to prolong their
lives. But the seeds had to be gathered, cleaned, pounded and cooked; and
in comparison with all this labour the nourishment afforded by the cakes
was very slight. An occasional crow or hawk was shot, and a little fish
now and then begged from the natives. As they were sinking rapidly, it
was at last decided that Burke and King should go up the creek and
endeavour to find the main camp of the natives and obtain food from them.
Wills, who was now so weak as to be unable to move, was left lying under
some boughs, with an eight days' supply of nardoo and water, the others
trusting that within that period they would have returned to him.

On the 26th of June the two men started, and poor Wills was left to meet
death alone. By the entries in his diary, which he kept written up as
long as his strength remained, he evidently retained consciousness almost
to the last. So exhausted was he that death must have come to him as a
merciful release from the pain of living. His last entries, although
giving evidence of fading faculties, are almost cheerful. He jocularly
alludes to himself as Micawber, waiting for something to turn up. But it
is evident that he had given up hope, and was waiting for death's
approach, calm and resigned, without fear, like a good and gallant man.

Burke and King did not advan