They had also taken the two available guns, and nearly all the ammunition.

The body of Baxter was wrapped in a blanket--they could not even dig a grave in the barren rock.

Left with his sole companion, Eyre sadly resumed the march, their steps tracked by the two blacks, who probably meditated further murders; but, with only cowardly instincts, they dared not approach the intrepid man, who at length outstripped them, and they were never heard of more.

Still no water was found for 150 miles; then a slight supply, and the two men struggled on, daily becoming weaker, living on horse-flesh, an occasional kangaroo, and the few fish that were to be caught--for it must be remembered that at no time were they far from the coast.
On the 2nd of June, nearly four months after they had bidden good-bye to the cutter at Fowler's Bay, they stood on the cliffs, looking out over the ocean, when they saw in the distance two objects which were soon recognized as boats, and shortly afterwards, to their unbounded joy, they discerned the masts of a vessel on the farther side of a small rocky island.

Animated by a new life, Eyre pushed on until he reached a point whence he succeeded in hailing the ship, and a boat was sent off.