But were it not for having had to steer north to get out of the waterless plains, I might possibly have reached the north- eastern coast of the continent in due time, avoiding the Roper River altogether.
Yamba knelt by my side and tried to comfort me in her own sweet, quaint way, and she pictured to me--scant consolation--how glad her people would be to have us both back amongst them once more.

She also urged what a great man I might be among her people if only I would stay and make my home with them.

Even her voice, however, fell dully on my ears, for I was fairly mad with rage and despair--with myself, for not having gone overland to Port Darwin from Port Essington, as, indeed, I should most certainly have done were it not that Davis had assured me the greater part of the journey lay through deadly swamps and creeks, and great waters swarming with alligators.

I had even had in my mind the idea of attempting to _reach Sydney overland_! but thought I would first of all see what facilities in the way of reaching civilisation Port Darwin had to offer.

Now, however, I was back again in Cambridge Gulf,--in the very spot I had left a year and a half ago, and where I had landed with my four blacks from the island sand-spit.