We reached the glen early. There was
yet another detached hill in the northern line, which is the most
eastern of the Petermann Range. I named it Mount McCulloch. It can
also easily be distinguished from Mount Olga. From Glen Robertson
Mount McCulloch bore 3 degrees east of north. We rested here a day,
during which several natives made their appearance and lit signal
fires for others. There is a great difference between signal and
hunting fires; we were perfectly acquainted with both, as my reader
may imagine. One aboriginal fiend, of the Homo sapiens genus, while we
were sitting down sewing bags as usual, sneaked so close upon us, down
the rocks behind the camp, that he could easily have touched or
tomahawked--if he had one--either of us, before he was discovered. My
little dog was sometimes too lazy to obey, when a little distance off,
the command to sit, or stand up; in that case I used to send him a
telegram, as I called it--that is to say, throw a little stone at him,
and up he would sit immediately. This sneak of a native was having a
fine game with us. Cocky was lying down near Mr. Tietkens, when a
stone came quietly and roused him, causing him to sit up. Mr. Tietkens
patted him, and he lay down again.
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