arly to-morrow you will sight the Rawlinson, at
twenty-five miles from the Kegs. Stick to the tracks and never leave
them. Leave as much water in one keg for me as you can afford, after
watering the mare and filling up your own bags; and, remember, I depend
upon you to bring me relief.'

"Gibson said if he had a compass he thought he could go better by night.
I knew he didn't understand anything about compasses, as I had often
tried to explain them to him. The one I had was a Gregory's Patent, of a
totally different construction from ordinary instruments of the kind, and
I was loth to part with it, as it was the only one I had. However, as he
was so anxious for it, I gave it to him, and away he went. I sent one
final shout after him to stick to the tracks, and he said, 'All right'
and the mare carried him out of sight almost instantly.

"Gibson had left me with a little over two gallons of water, which I
could have drunk in half-an-hour. All the food I had was eleven sticks
of dirty, sandy, smoked horse, averaging about an ounce and a half each.

"On the first of May, as I afterwards found out, at one o'clock in the
morning, I staggered into the camp, and awoke Mr. Tietkins at daylight.
He glared at me as if I had been one risen from the dead. I asked him if
he had seen Gibson. It was nine days since I last saw him. The next
thing was to find Gibson's remains. It was the 6th of May when we got
back to where he had left the right line. As long as he had remained on
the other horses' tracks it was practicable enough to follow him, but the
wretched man had left them and gone away in a far more southerly
direction, having the most difficult sand-hills to cross at right angles.
We found he had burnt a patch of spinifex where he had left the other
horses' tracks.

"Whether he had made any mistake in steering by the compass or not it is
impossible to say; but instead of going east, as he should have done, he
actually went south, or very near it.

"I was sorry to think that the unfortunate man's last sensible moments
must have been embittered by the thought that, as he had lost himself in
the capacity of messenger for my relief, I, too, must necessarily fall a
victim to his mishap.

"I called this terrible region, lying between the Rawlinson Range and the
next permanent water that may eventually be found to the north, 'Gibson's
Desert,'--after this first white victim to its horrors.

"In looking over Gibson's