separated the valleys of the Cooper and the Diamantina. The country in that direction seemed level and traversed by long parallel sand-dunes ; they were so regular and so numerous that, when crowded by foreshortening in the distance, it looked as if the whole country had been ploughed into a series of furrows. The alternate lines of the sandhills and the dark brown strips of loam gave a singular streakiness to the view.

One more march took us to our base camp at Markoni. There we found that our companions, Grayson and Guy and Voss Smith, had made a good collection of fossils and zoological specimens, our inspection of which was interrupted by a severe dust-storm. Markoni also had been troubled by the night dust-storm, which had damaged the tent, and had nearly buried the men by piling sand several feet thick above them.

As the meteorological conditions indicated that the storm would be followed by some days of cool weather and south wind, I resolved to forgo a projected day's rest in camp, and to start off next morning on the march across the Tirari Desert, over fifty miles of waterless sand-hill country between the Cooper and the Diamantina. We therefore sent back all the Kilalpaninna natives, except Jerry and David, the two Wonkonguru guides. Here occurred an incident which shows that the Australian aborigines are better than they are often said to be. We were using tea and sugar at a greater rate than I had allowed for,

ABORIGINAL GENEROSITY

99

The brackishness of the water drove most of us to take sugar with our tea; and we drank tea by the quart. We all agreed that tea was the one article that was absolutely necessary to our comfort, and that we could understand any one, whose tea had given out, believing the worst that has ever been written about the Australian desert. So, on serving their food rations to the aborigines, who were going back to Kilalpaninna, I expressed regret, that we could only spare them a scanty allowance of tea and sugar. Their spokesman at once, after consulting the others, came back to say that they were returning to the station and could get anything they wanted there, but that we had a long journey before us and no chance of getting fresh stores; so that they would prefer to return the tea and sugar we had given them. It was, fortunately, unnecessary to accept this offer; but the incident well illustrates the generous disposition of the Australian aborigines.

CHAPTER VII

ACROSS THE TIRARI DESERT

No sweet fall of rain

May there be heard, nor sweeter liquid laps
Of rivers, o'er the pebbles gliding by
In murmurs; goaded by the rage of thirst.

DYER.

THE march from Cooper's Creek to the Diamantina, at the season when we had to make it, was expected to prove a difficult journey. We had to go for fifty miles over waterless country, covered with lines of sand-hills, and it was uncertain whether we should find any fresh water at the end. After our experience of soakages in the Cooper Valley, I had, however, no doubt that we should get as much water as we wanted at Kalamurina-the old station where we expected to reach the Diamantina. This faith in the existence of water ahead of us made a great difference to the comfort of our march, as it rendered it unnecessary to have a large store of water in reserve on our arrival at the river.

We struck camp at Markoni on January 4th, 1902, and returned on our former track to a big soakage on the banks of the Cooper at Ilturini.