Though Jimmy was certainly a bit of a fool, he was not perhaps quite a fool of the greatest size. Little fools and young fools somehow seem to pass muster in this peculiar world, but to be old and a fool is a mistake which is difficult, if not impossible, to remedy. It was too late to go any farther; we couldn't get any water, but we had to camp. I intended to return in the morning to where we first struck this creek, and where we saw water in the native well. I called this the Krichauff. The mercury went down to 28 degrees by daylight the next morning, but neither ice nor frost appeared. This morning Mr. Tietkens, when out after the horses, found a rather deep native well some distance up the creek, and we shifted the camp to it. On the way there I was behind the party, and before I overtook them I heard the report of firearms. On reaching the horses, Jimmy Andrews had his revolver in his hand, Mr. Tietkens and Gibson being away. On inquiring of Jimmy the cause of the reports and the reason of his having his revolver in his hand, he replied that he thought Mr. Tietkens was shooting the blacks, and he had determined to slaughter his share if they attacked him. Mr. Tietkens had fired at some wallabies, which, however, did not appear at dinner. On arrival at the new well, we had a vast amount of work to perform, and only three or four horses got water by night. I told Mr. Tietkens not to work himself to death, as I would retreat in the morning to where there was water, but he persisted in working away by himself in the night, and was actually able to water all the horses in the morning. Labor omnia vincit. Last night there was a heavy fall of dew, thermometer 28 degrees, but no frost or ice. I was delighted to turn my back upon this wretched place. The object of our present line was to reach the new hills seen from the Anthony Range. Three of them appeared higher than, and isolated from, the others. They now bore west of us--at least they should have done so, and I hoped they did, for in such thick scrubs it was quite impossible to see them. No matter for that, we steered west for them and traversed a region of dense scrubs. I was compelled to ride in advance with a bell on my stirrup to enable the others to hear which way to come. In seventeen miles we struck a small gum creek without water, but there was good herbage. In the scrubs to-day we saw a native pheasant's nest, the Leipoa ocellata of Gould, but there were no eggs in it. This bird is known by different names in different parts of Australia. On the eastern half of the continent it is usually called the Lowan, while in Western Australia it is known as the Gnow; both I believe are native names. Another cold night, thermometer 26 degrees, with a slight hoar frost. Moving on still west through scrubs, but not so thick as yesterday, some beautiful and open ground was met till we reached the foot of some low ridges.