Towards evening we neared a prominent bluff that we had sighted the day
before, and got a further insight into the habits of the wild dog. A
dingo--a female, and possibly our friend with the pups--had followed us
persistently all day. Godfrey, who was walking behind the camels, opened
the acquaintance by practising his revolver-shooting upon her. His poor
aim seemed to give her confidence, and before long she started to play
with Val. By nightfall we had petted and fed her out of our hands, and
given her a small drop of water from our fast diminishing supply--this at
the earnest request of Godfrey, who offered to give her some of his
share; and indeed it seemed rather cruel to refuse a poor famished beast
that had come to us in her distress. We all agreed how nice it was to have
won the affections of a real wild dog. By daybreak our feelings of love
had somewhat abated, as our friend prowled about all night, poking her
nose into pots and pans, chewing saddles, pack-bags, straps, and even our
blankets as we lay in them, and cared no more for blows than for the
violent oaths that were wasted upon her. This strange creature accompanied
us for two more days, trotting along ahead of the camels, with an
occasional look behind to see if she was on the right course, and then
falling at full length in the shade of some bush with her head on her
paws, waiting for us to pass. Eventually my irritability got the better
of my indulgence, and a shrewd whack over the nose put an end to our
acquaintanceship.

Near the bluff were many low, stony hills, with the usual small
watercourses; in them we hunted high and low for water until darkness
overtook us. To the North other similar hills could be seen, by my
reckoning a part of the Ernest Giles Range (Wells, 1892). No doubt from
the distance these hills would look more imposing. Our camp was in lat.
27 degrees 9 minutes, long. 123 degrees 59 minutes. August 6th.