I allowed the horses to remain and drink up the balance of
the water, while I went away to inspect some other gorges or gullies
in the hills to the west of us, and see whether any more water could
be found. The day was cool and fine.
I climbed to the summit of a hill about 800 feet from its base. The
view was similar to yesterday's, except that I could now see these
hills ran on west for twelve or fifteen miles, where the country was
entirely covered with scrubs. Little gullies, with an odd, and
stunted, gum-tree here and there, were seen. Few of these gullies were
more than six feet wide, and the trumpery little streams that descend,
in even their most flooded state, would be of but little service to
anybody. I had wandered up and down hills, in and out of gullies, all
the morning, but had met no single drop of water, and was returning
disappointed to the camp when, on trying one more small scrubby,
dreadfully-rocky little gully which I had missed, or rather passed by,
in going out, I was fortunate enough to discover a few small rocky
holes full of the purest fluid. This treasure was small indeed, but my
gratitude was great; for what pleased me most was the rather strange
fact that the water was trickling from one basin to another, but with
the weakest possible flow.
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