Thursday, 9th October, The Taylor. Last night, about sundown, a native woman and youngster came to the waterhole, rushed down, had a drink, and were running off again, when I cooed and made signs of friendship; in a few seconds the woman gained confidence, and, not seeing any of us approach, went down to the hole again, and fetched up a large troughful of water. Mr. Kekwick tried to induce her to stop, in order to gain some information from her, but it was of no use; the faster he walked the faster she did the same, chatting all the time, pointing to the south; so he left her to walk at her leisure. They do not seem to be at all frightened of us; but we cannot get any of them to come near, although we have tried every time they have come. The day again oppressively hot. I still feel very ill. Wind from south-east. Nothing particular has occurred during the day. This is dreadful work to be detained here so long. I am afraid soon I shall not be able to sit in the saddle, and then what must I do? I feel myself getting weaker and weaker every day. I hope the Almighty will have compassion on me, and soon send me some relief. He is the only one that can do it--my only friend. Friday, 10th October, The Taylor. Last night, a little before sundown, until after dark, we were amused by a farce enacted by the natives, apparently to keep us quiet and render us powerless, while they approached the water hole and got what water they required. They commenced at some distance off, raising a heavy black smoke, (by setting fire to the spinifex), and calling out most lustily at the top of their voices. As the sun got lower I had the party prepared for an attack; on they came, the fire rolling before them. We could now occasionally see them; one was an old man with a very powerful voice, who seemed to be speaking some incantations, with the most dreadful howl I ever heard in my life, resembling a man suffering the extremes of torture; he was assisted in his horrid yell by some women. As the evening got darker and they were within one hundred and fifty yards of us, and nearly opposite our camp, the scene was very pretty--in fact grand. In the foreground was our camp equipment with the party armed, ready to repel an attack. On the opposite side of the creek was a long line of flames, some mounting high in the air, others kept at a low flickering light. In the midst of the flames the natives appeared to be moving about, performing all sorts of antics; behind them came the old man with his women. At every high flame he seemed to be performing some mysterious spell, still yelling in the former horrid tone, turning and twisting his body and legs and arms into all sorts of shapes. They appeared like so many demons, dancing, sporting, and enjoying themselves in the midst of flames. At last they and their fire reached the water hole after continuing this horrid noise for nearly two hours without intermission; as soon as they came in sight