There seems to be
very little native game here, though a number of bronze-winged pigeons
came to water at night and morning. There are, however, so many small
native wells besides the larger sheet, for them to drink at, and also
such a quantity of a thorny vegetation to screen them, that we have
not been very successful in getting any. Our best shot, Mr. Young,
succeeded in bagging only four or five. It was necessary, now that we
had found this spring, to give our noble camels a fair respite, the
more so as the food they will eat is very scarce about here, as we
have yet over 300 miles to travel to reach Mount Churchman, with every
probability of getting no water between. There are many curious flying
and creeping insects here, but we have not been fortunate in catching
many. Last night, however, I managed to secure and methylate a
good-sized scorpion. After resting under the umbrageous foliage of the
cypress-pines, among which our encampment was fixed for a week, the
party and camels had all recovered from the thirst and fatigue of our
late march, and it really seemed impossible to believe that such a
stretch of country as 325 miles could actually have been traversed
between this and the last water.
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