These far-off hills were named the
Alfred and Marie Range, in honour of their Royal Highnesses the Duke
and Duchess of Edinburgh. Gibson's horse having got so bad had placed
us both in a great dilemma; indeed, ours was a most critical position.
We turned back upon our tracks, when the cob refused to carry his
rider any farther, and tried to lie down. We drove him another mile on
foot, and down he fell to die. My mare, the Fair Maid of Perth, was
only too willing to return; she had now to carry Gibson's saddle and
things, and we went away walking and riding by turns of half an hour.
The cob, no doubt, died where he fell; not a second thought could be
bestowed on him.
When we got back to about thirty miles from the Kegs I was walking,
and having concluded in my mind what course to pursue, I called to
Gibson to halt till I walked up to him. We were both excessively
thirsty, for walking had made us so, and we had scarcely a pint of
water left between us. However, of what we had we each took a
mouthful, which finished the supply, and I then said--for I couldn't
speak before--"Look here, Gibson, you see we are in a most terrible
fix with only one horse, therefore only one can ride, and one must
remain behind.
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