found that the rock-hole was bottomed, and now quite dry. Straining the
putrid water brought by me through a flannel shirt, boiling it, adding
ashes and Epsom salts, we concocted a serviceable beverage. This, blended
with the few gallons of muddy water from the well, formed our supply,
which we looked to augment under the guidance of the gin. After
completing our work the well presented the appearance of a large
rock-hole, thirty feet deep, conical in shape, of which one-half the
contents had been dug out. This confirmed my opinion that the native
wells of these regions are nothing more than holes in the bed-rock, which
have been covered over and in by the general deposit of sand. I had no
time to observe for latitude at this spot, the position of which is fixed
merely by dead reckoning. The rock-hole lies eight miles from it to the
S.E. by E., and has no guide whatever to its situation. I christened the
well "Patience Well," and I think it was well named.

From September 8th, 9 a.m., until September 12th, 12.30 a.m., we had
worked almost continuously, only taking in turn what sleep we could
snatch when one could be spared; and the result, 140 gallons as sum
total, inclusive of mud and other matter.

We left Patience Well on the 12th, at 10 a.m., taking the woman with us.
Breaden was the only one in whose charge she would consent to be at all
calm; to him therefore was allotted the duty of looking after her. At
eleven we reached the dry well to which Warri and I had tracked the
natives. The water we were forced to use was so uninviting that I decided
to make another effort to find a supply in this locality. The gin was of
no use whatever, and would only repeat whatever we said to her--"Gabbi,"
which King Billy had understood, was wasted on her. "Gabbi, gabbi," she
repeated, waving her arm all round the horizon. Leaving the rest to
bottom the dry well, which might have water lower down, Warri and I again