At the bottom of some of the ravines below I could see several small pools of water gleaming in little stony gullies.
The afternoon had been warm, if not actually hot, and our walking and climbing had made us thirsty; the sight of water made us all the more so.

It was now nearly sundown, and it would be useless to attempt the ascent of the mountain, as by the time we could reach its summit, the sun would be far below the horizon, and we should obtain no view at all.
It was, however, evident that no gap or pass existed by which I could get my horses up, even if the country beyond were ever so promising.

A few of the cypress or Australian pines (Callitris) dotted the summits of the hills, they also grew on the sides of some of the ravines below us.

We had, at least I had, considerable difficulty in descending the almost perpendicular face to the water below.

Carmichael got there before I did, and had time to sit, laving his feet and legs in a fine little rock hole full of pure water, filled, I suppose, by the late rains.