mbus clouds
subsided. Towards night the wind died away, and the full moon rising in a
most serene sky encouraged us once more to indulge in the hope of getting
home.

February 17.

A beautiful clear morning, but this was nevertheless a dies non to us,
owing to the impassable state of the surface of the earth. An emu came
very near our tents, and by carrying a bush a la Birnam we got several
shots without however having the good fortune to hit it. We had the
satisfaction to find that the ground was drying very fast. In the evening
the mountains to the eastward were seen clearly for the first time. They
appeared to be very rocky and steep, much resembling the outline of
Teneriffe or Madeira; and no trees appeared on the highest pinnacles.

EXCURSION TO THE PLUNDERED CAMP OF MR. FINCH.

February 18.

The weather continuing fine it was now in my power to visit the
unfortunate camp of Mr. Finch. Leaving Mr. White therefore in charge of
ours, I proceeded this morning towards that spot, accompanied by Mr.
Finch and a party mounted on packhorses. We pursued a direct line,
traversing every scrub in the way, in expectation of surprising some of
the natives. After riding six miles we passed one of their encampments
where they appeared to have recently been, as the fire was still burning.
In the scrubs we saw several flocks of kangaroos, eight or ten in each;
and on the plains we this day saw a greater number of emus than we had
before fallen in with during the whole journey.

Reaching at length the open plains beyond Brush Hill, I once more traced
the line of that watercourse which may truly be said to have saved our
lives when we first providentially fell in with it, just as the men were
beginning to sink, overcome by extreme and long-continued thirst. To us
it had afforded then the happiest of camps after such a deliverance; and
now we were to witness in the same spot a scene of death. Having struck
into the old track of the carts as we approached the place we found the
pistol of Bombelli within a foot of the track. This was surprising, for
although Mr. Finch had informed me that Bombelli lost it in the grass
after adjusting some harness (a fatal loss, poor fellow, to him) it is
seldom that any article so dropped escapes the quick-sighted natives, to
whom the surface of the earth is, in fact, as legible as a newspaper, so
accustomed are they to read in any traces left thereon the events of the
day. For the lost pistol, Bu