truggle on, but
in about an hour he again fell. I was exceedingly fond of this poor
animal, and intended to have purchased him at the sale of the remnants of
the expedition, as a present to my wife. We sat down and lit a fire by
him, but he seemed fairly worn out. I then determined to ride on to the
Depot, and if Mr. Browne should still be there, to send a dray with water
to the relief of the men. I told them, therefore, to come slowly on, and
with Mr. Stuart pushed for the camp. We reached the plain just as the sun
was descending, without having dismounted from our horses for more than
fifteen hours, and as we rode down the embankment into it, looked around
for the cattle, but none were to be seen. We looked towards the little
sandy mound on which the tents had stood, but no white object there met
our eye; we rode slowly up to the stockade, and found it silent and
deserted. I was quite sure that Mr. Browne had had urgent reasons for
retiring. I had indeed anticipated the measure: I hardly hoped to find
him at the Fort, and had given him instructions on the subject of his
removal, yet a sickening feeling came over me when I saw that he was
really gone; not on my own account, for, with the bitter feelings of
disappointment with which I was returning home, I could calmly have laid
my head on that desert, never to raise it again. The feeling was natural,
and had no mixture whatever of reproach towards my excellent companion.

We dismounted and led our horses down to water before I went to the tree
under which I had directed Mr. Browne to deposit a letter for me. A good
deal of water still remained in the channel, but nevertheless a large pit
had been dug in it as I had desired. I did not drink, nor did Mr. Stuart,
the surface of the water was quite green, and the water itself was of a
red colour, but I believe we were both thinking of any thing but
ourselves at that moment. As soon as we had unsaddled the horses, we went
to the tree and dug up the bottle into which, as agreed upon, Mr. Browne
had put a letter; informing me that he had been most reluctantly obliged
to retreat; the water at the Depot having turned putrid, and seriously
disagreed with the men; he said that he should fall back on the old Depot
along the same line on which we had advanced, and expressed his fears
that the water in Strzelecki's Creek would have dried, on the permanence
of which he knew our safety depended. Under present circumstances the
fate of