Jack had a little pocket telescope, and he examined the hill to westward with it. After a careful scrutiny he declared that he saw a man in one of the gaps on the top of the hill and that he was a white man. “Yes, I see him,” said I, for I thought I observed something moving, “but I cannot say whether he is black or white.” Jack handed me the glass, but I could not now distinguish even with the glass any sign of life or movement. He took back the glass in a hurry and looked again, and then he declared that he could no longer see any man. “And yet,” said he, “there was a man there, and he had on a long coat, and there was something odd and foreign in the look of him.” “Nonsense,” I said, “you could never tell that at such a distance and with such a glass.” “Well, one would think not,” he said, “and yet it was as I say.” I then went over my calculations with a view to determine whereabouts we were, but I could not by any means make our position far enough west to render it likely that we were near any settlement. We had no instrument by which we could make observations with any approach to accuracy. Our latitude was not much changed since we had left the wire; that much we could see from the stars. But our course had been so very zigzag that it was quite impossible to estimate our longitude within a hundred or more miles. And even if our course had been due west all through I still could hardly think that we were near the head waters of the western slope. After all, however, it seemed the wisest course to reconnoitre, first, this mountain or hill. If there was no one there it would be still possible for us to return to where we were now, and to make a start eastward. Indeed, if the hill were not inhabited, that would be the only course that would be in the least degree hopeful. For certainly to strike westward without any guide or any knowledge of the way would be for us, and in such a country as Australia, to face certain death.