The horses did not look much refreshed by the night's rest; we, however, divided three gallons of water amongst them, and started off early, in the hope of reaching the ranges by noon; but we had not gone three miles when one of the pack-horses, that was carrying less than forty pounds weight, began to fail, and the load was placed upon my saddle-horse; it did not, however, enable him to get on more than a couple of miles further, when we were compelled to abandon him, leaving him under the shade of the only tree we could find, in the hope that we might bring back water to his relief. Finding that it would be many hours before the horses could be got on to the hills, I started ahead on foot, leaving Messrs. Brown and Harding to come on gently, while I was to make a signal by fires if successful in finding water. Two hours' heavy toil through the sand, under a broiling sun, brought me to the ranges, where I continued to hunt up one ravine after another until 5.0 p.m. without success. Twelve hours' almost incessant walking, on a scanty breakfast, and without water, with the thermometer over 100 degrees of Fahrenheit, began to tell upon me rather severely; so much so that, by the time I had tracked up my companions (who had reached the hills by 1.0 p.m., and were anxiously waiting for me), it was as much as I could do to carry my rifle and accoutrements. The horses were looking truly wretched, and I was convinced that the only chance of saving them, if water was not found, would be by abandoning our pack-saddles, provisions, and everything we could possibly spare, and try and recover them afterwards if practicable; we therefore encamped for the night on the last plot of grass we could find, and proceeded to make arrangements for an early start in the morning. There was still remaining a few pints of water in the kegs, having been very sparing in the use of it; this enabled us to have a little tea and make a small quantity of damper, of which we all stood in much need. Camp 77. 8th September.