I had so frequently visited, and which I had hoped
might still contain water, had long been dry, and thus was our retreat
cut off in that quarter also. There was apparently no hope for us--its
last spark had been extinguished by this last disappointment; but the
idea of a detention in that horrid desert was worse than death itself.

On the morning of the 22nd the sky was cloudy and the sun obscure, and
there was every appearance of rain. The wind was somewhat to the south of
west, the clouds came up from the north, and at ten a few drops fell; but
before noon the sky was clear, and a strong and hot wind was blowing from
the west: the dust was flying in clouds around us, and the flies were
insupportable.

At this time Mr. Stuart was taken ill with pains similar to my own, and
Davenport had an attack of dysentery.

On the 23rd it blew a fierce gale and a hot wind from west by north,
which rendered us still more uncomfortable: nothing indeed could be done
without risk in such a temperature, and such a climate. The fearful
position in which we were placed, caused me great uneasiness; the men
began to sicken, and I felt assured that if we remained much longer, the
most serious consequences might be apprehended.

On the 24th, Mr. Browne went with Flood to examine a stony creek about 16
miles to the south, and on our way homewards. We had little hope that he
would find any water in it, but if he did, a plan had suggested itself,
by which we trusted to effect our escape. It being impossible to stand
the outer heat, the men were obliged to take whatever things wanted
repair, to our underground room, and I was happy to learn from Mr.
Stuart, who I sent up to superintend them, that the natives had not in
the least disturbed Mr. Poole's grave.

On the 25th Mr. Browne returned, and returned unsuccessful: he could find
no water any where, and told me it was fearful to ride down the creeks
and to witness their present state.

We were now aware that there could be no water nearer to us than 118
miles, i. e. at Flood's Creek, and even there it was doubtful if water
any longer remained. To have moved the party on the chance of finding it
would have been madness: the weather was so foreboding, the heat so
excessive, and the horses so weak, that I did not dare to trust them on
such a journey, or to risk the life of any man in such an undertaking. I
was myself laid up, a helpless being, for I had gradually sunk under the
attack of sc