The camp which Carmichael and Robinson had selected, while I rode over to the other creek, was a most wretched place, in the midst of dense mallee and amidst thick plots of triodia, which we had to cut away before we could sit down.
The only direction in which we could see a yard ahead of us was up towards the sky; and as we were not going that way, it gave us no idea of our next line of route.

The big bluff we had been steering for all day was, I may say, included in our skyward view, for it towered above us almost overhead.

Being away when the camp was selected, I was sorry to hear that the horses had all been let go without hobbles; as they had been in such fine quarters for three nights at the last camp on the plain, it was more than probable they would work back through the scrub to it in the night.

The following morning not a horse was to be found! Robinson and I went in search of them, and found they had split into several mobs.

I only got three, and at night Robinson returned with only six, the remainder had been missed in the dense scrubs.