Burke and King walked out on their desperate errand. On the first day they traversed a fair distance; but, on the second, they had not proceeded two miles when Burke lay down, saying he could go no farther. King entreated him to make another effort, and so he dragged himself to a little clump of bushes, where he stretched his limbs very wearily. An hour or two afterwards he was stiff and unable to move. He asked King to take his watch and pocket-book, and, if possible, to give them to his friends in Melbourne; then he begged of him not to depart till he was quite dead: he knew he should not live long, and he should like some one to be near him to the last. He spoke with difficulty, but directed King not to bury him, but to let him lie above the ground, with a pistol in his right hand. They passed a weary and lonesome night; and in the morning, at eight o'clock, Burke's restless life was ended. King wandered for some time forlorn, but, by good fortune, he stumbled upon an abandoned encampment, where, by neglect, the blacks had left a bag of nardoo, sufficient to last him a fortnight; and, with this, he hastened back to the hut where Wills had been laid. All he could do now, however, was to dig a grave for his body in the sand, and, having performed that last sad duty, he set out once more on his search, and found a tribe, differing from that which he had already seen. They were very kind, but not anxious to keep him, until, having shot some birds and cured their chief of a malady, he was found to be of some use, and soon became a great favourite with them. They made a trip to the body of Burke, but, respecting his last wishes, they did not seek to bury it, and merely covered it gently with a layer of leafy boughs.