probably take us beyond the northern boundary of the desert, I determined
to continue on a Northerly course, as by doing so we should be still
traversing unknown country, until we reached the Margaret River or some
tributary of it; whereas by cutting and then following up the Sturt, we
should merely be going over ground already covered by Gregory's and
subsequent parties.

Careful scanning of the horizon from Mount Ernest resulted in sighting
some hills or rocks to the North-East. Excepting that higher ground
existed, nothing could be seen as to its nature, for it was ever moving
this way and that in the shimmering haze of heat and glare of the sun,
which, intensified by powerful field-glasses, made one's eyes ache. I
find it hard indeed to render this narrative interesting, for every page
of my diary shows an entry no less monotonous than the following:

"Same miserable country--roasting sun--no feed for camels--camp on crest
of high ridge in hopes of getting a breath of air--thousands of small ants
worry us at night--have to shift blankets half a dozen times. Val's feet
getting better--she can again walk a little."

The high ground seen from Mount Ernest turned out to be bare rocks of
black ironstone, from which we sighted a very large smoke rising to the
eastward--miles of country must have been burning, a greater extent than
we had yet seen actually alight. Probably the hot weather accounted for
the spread of the flames. Though apparently at no great distance, it took
us all that day and six hours of the next to reach the scene of the fire,
where spinifex and trees were still smouldering and occasionally breaking
into flames, whirlwinds of dust and ashes rising in every direction.
Having camped we set out as usual to find tracks, Breaden and Warri being
successful in finding a pad of some dozen blacks going in the same