April 19.

After an almost sleepless night I rose early, and could relieve my anxiety only by organising a search, to be made in different directions, and getting into movement as soon as possible. The darkness of a second night of dreary solitude had pa.s.sed over our fellow-traveller under the acc.u.mulated horrors of thirst, hunger, and despair!

It was most mysterious that he had not fallen in with our line of route which was a plain, broad road since the pa.s.sage of the carts; and had a direction due north and south for ten miles. The last time he had been seen was twelve miles back, or about two miles from the dry bed of the creek (since named Bullock creek) where I changed the direction from north-west by compa.s.s to due north, that I might sooner reach the Bogan, for the sake of water. It was probable that in following my marked trees without much attention he had not observed the turn I took there, and that continuing in the same direction beyond the creek he had therefore lost them, and had proceeded too far to the westward. This was the more likely as the dry creek was on the eastward of our line; where, had he gone that way, he must have found our cattle-tracks, or met with the cattle. I therefore determined to examine myself the whole country westward of our line for twelve miles back. I sent The Doctor and Murray west by compa.s.s six miles, with orders to return in a south-east direction till they intersected the route, and then return along it; and I sent two other men back along the route in case our missing friend might have been coming on in a weakly state that way. All three parties carried water and provisions. I proceeded myself with two men on horseback, first, seven miles in a south-west direction, which brought me into the line Mr. Cunningham might have followed, supposing he had continued north-west. The country I traversed consisted of small plains and alternate patches of dense casuarina scrubs, and open forest land.

I seldom saw to less distance about me than from one to two miles, or at least as far as that in some one direction. We continued to cooey frequently, and the two men were ordered to look on the ground for a horse's track.

In the centre of a small plain, where I changed my direction to the south-east, I set up a small stick with a piece of paper fixed in it, containing the following words:

Dear Cunningham,

These are my horse's tracks, follow them backwards, they will lead you to our camp, which is north-east of you.

T.L. Mitch.e.l.l.

Having proceeded in the same manner seven miles to the south-east I came upon our route where it crossed Bullock creek, and there I found the two men who had been sent from the camp.

We then continued our search back along the west side of our route, the party, which now consisted of five, spreading so as to keep abreast at about 200 yards from each other, one being on the road.

NO TRACES TO BE SEEN.

We thus ascertained that no track of Mr. Cunningham's horse or of himself appeared on the soft parts of our road; and although we retraced our steps thus to where Murray, one of the men, said he saw Mr. Cunningham the last time with the party, no traces could be found of him or his horse. A kangaroo dog was also missing, and supposed to be with him.

Returning, we continued the search, and particularly to the westward of Bullock creek, where the direction of our route had been changed; but I was disappointed in all our endeavours to find any traces of him there, although I enjoyed for some time a gleam of hope on seeing the track of a horse near the bed of the creek, but it returned to our line, and was afterwards ascertained to have been made by the horse of Mr. Larmer.

Although scarcely able to walk myself from a sprain (my horse having fallen in a hole that day, and rolled on my foot) I shall never forget with what anxiety I limped along that track, which seemed to promise so well; yet we were so unsuccessful that evening, on the very ground where afterwards Mr. Cunningham's true track was found, that I could no longer imagine that our unfortunate fellow-traveller could be to the westward.

By what fatality we failed to discover the tracks afterwards found there I know not; but as the sun descended we returned once more to the camp in the hope that Mr. Cunningham might have reached it.

SUPPOSED TO HAVE MET WITH AN ACCIDENT.

That hope was soon disappointed, and I became apprehensive that some accident had befallen him. Holes in the soft surface and yawning cracks formed rather a peculiar feature in that part of the country; and as my horse had fallen both on this day and the preceding, when at a canter, and as Mr. Cunningham was often seen at that pace, it was probable that he might have met with some severe fall, and lay helpless, not far, perhaps, from where he had last been seen. The nights were cold, and I was doubtful whether he could be still alive, so difficult was it to account otherwise for his continued absence under all the circ.u.mstances.

SOUTER AND MURRAY SENT BACK ALONG THE TRACK.

April 20.

After another night of painful anxiety the dawn of the THIRD day of Mr.

Cunningham's absence brought some relief, as daylight renewed the chance of finding him, or of his finding us by our line, as he might have endeavoured to retrace his steps on losing the party, or he might be on our route still farther back than we had looked; but I was desirous that the natives whom we had left at Beny might be sent in search. I despatched the Doctor and Murray back along the line, the latter saying that he knew where Mr. Cunningham had turned off the road. It was not unlikely that the horse, if he had got loose, might have returned to where he had last drunk water (20 miles distant) therefore they were directed, if traces were not found nearer, to go so far back, and to promise the natives, if they could meet with any, tomahawks, etc. if they found the white man or his horse. No other course could be imagined. The line of route, as already stated, was a beaten road, and extended north and south. To the east of it and nearly parallel, at two or three miles distance, was the dry channel (Bullock creek) which led to the Bogan; on the north was our camp and the Bogan, whose general course was west, as well as our intended route, circ.u.mstances both known to Mr. Cunningham.

Southward was the marked route, and the country whence we had come. Still however I thought it so likely that he must have gone to the north-west when we changed our route to north, that I determined, although my sprained ankle was painful, to examine again, and still more extensively, the country into which such a deviation must have led him.

MY SEARCH SOUTH-SOUTH-WEST 40 MILES.

April 21.

I proceeded in a south-south-west direction (or South 17 degrees West by compa.s.s) or on a intermediate line between our route and the north-west line by which I had explored that country on the nineteenth, the men cooeying as before.

We explored every open s.p.a.ce; and we looked into many bushes, but in vain.

I continued my journey far to the southward in order to ascertain what water was nearest in that direction, as it was probable, were any found, that Mr. Cunningham, if alive, must have reached it, and I had in vain sought his track on the other side of the country. I soon came to undulating ground or low hills of quartzose gravel without any gra.s.s, consisting of unabraded small angular fragments of quartz. I observed a few trees of the ironbark eucalyptus and pines or callitris on the highest grounds. At twenty miles from our camp we crossed a gra.s.sy flat, in which we at length found a chain of ponds falling to the south-south-east, and also about them were recent marks of natives.

INTERVIEW WITH TWO NATIVES.

At length I espied two at a distance as I proceeded along the valley. In vain we cooeyed and beckoned to them to approach; it was clear they would not come to us; on seeing which I left the men and horses and walked towards them, carrying a green bough before me. They seemed at once to understand this emblem of peace; for as soon as I was near enough for them to see it they laid down their spears and waddies, and sat down on the ground to receive me. Not a word however could they understand, being evidently quite strangers to the colonists. They were both rather old men, but very athletic, and of commanding air and stature, the body of one was painted with pipe-clay, that of the other with yellow ochre; and through these tints their well-defined muscles, firm as those of some antique torso, stood out in bold relief in the beams of the setting sun.

The two made a fine group on which dress would have been quite superfluous, and absolutely a blot on the picture.

No gesture of mine could convey the idea with which I wished so much to impress them, of my search for ANOTHER WHITE MAN, and after using every kind of gesture in vain, I made a bow in despair and departed. They rose at the same time, apparently glad (from fear) to see me going, and motioned as if to say you may depart now, we are friends. One of them who sat behind and who appeared to be the older of the two had a bone-handled table-knife stuck in the band over his forehead; one had also an iron tomahawk. The rest of the tribe were concealed about, as we heard their cooeys, but no others ventured to appear. I thought I could not give them further proof of no harm being intended to them than by quietly going on my way, and I hoped that this friendly demonstration might remove any apprehensions respecting Cunningham if he chanced to meet the tribe. The greatest danger to be apprehended from natives is on a stranger first approaching them when, chiefly from fear, they are apt to act on the offensive.

Continuing on the same line I crossed another small watercourse falling north-east; and beyond it were hills of mica-schist and quartz, which sloped rather boldly to the southward. We then entered one of the finest tracts of forest land I ever saw. It was there three miles in width, and bounded on the south by another low hill of quartzose gravel, the soil of which was indifferent. We at last tied up our horses on a little patch of forest land, and laid down under a few boughs, as it was quite dark and began to rain.

RANGE OF PORPHYRY.

April 22.

After a fruitless ride of twelve more miles still further southward in pursuit of distant columns of smoke, we turned our horses' heads towards the camp on a bearing of North 56 degrees East, in which direction some summits appeared. We crossed much good whinstone land, and arrived at a small ridge where I ascended a hill consisting of a reddish granite or porphyry. From this height I again saw Harvey's and Croker's ranges and various hills to the southward, but I was disappointed in the view of the western horizon, which was confined to a very flat-topped woody range. I took as many angles as I could from a round pinnacle of porphyry which barely afforded standing room.

From this hill we saw smoke near another eminence which bore North 36 degrees East, distant about seven miles; and in that direction we proceeded (as it led homewards) but twilight overtook us as we crossed its side, on which the bushes appeared to have been recently burnt.

This hill consisted of a rock resembling felspar, and was connected with the former, which was of granite, by low hills consisting of schistus and trap. The former had good gra.s.s about it, and produced a chain of well-filled ponds, but here we found no water, having arrived so late.

The country in general was (in point of gra.s.s at least) much better than the rotten ground on the banks of the Bogan. The water also, although scarce, was much better, and I heartily regretted that it was not in my power to proceed, according to my original plan, along this higher ground, in my progress towards the Darling.

April 23.

Early this morning I ascended the hill although much incommoded by my sprained ankle, which obliged me to ride my horse over rocks to the very summit. I could perceive no more smoke. The Can.o.bolas were just visible to the right of Mount Juson. The height on which I stood seemed to be the furthest interior point of this chain whence those hills could be seen.

We left the summit at nine o'clock, and proceeded towards our route on a bearing of North 17 degrees East. At ten miles we halted to allow the horses to pick some green gra.s.s in a casuarina scrub; and then, after riding two miles further, we reached our marked route, at about three miles back from Bullock creek. We saw no traces on it of the men I had sent back, for which I was at a loss to account; but I readily turned every circ.u.mstance, even my own ill success, in favour of the expectation that I should find Mr. Cunningham in the camp on my return: thus hope grew even out of disappointment.

MR. CUNNINGHAM'S TRACK FOUND.

There however I learned that the two men sent back had at length found Mr. Cunningham's track exactly where we had at first so diligently sought for it, and that they had traced it into the country which I had twice traversed in search of him in vain, and, more distressing than all, that they had been compelled to leave the track the preceding evening for want of rations! They had been however sent back to take it up, and we anxiously awaited the result.

April 24.

Late in the evening the two men (The Doctor and Murray) returned, having lost all further trace of Mr. Cunningham in a small oak scrub. They had distinctly seen the track of the dog with him, and that of his own steps beside those of the horse, as if he had been leading it.

MR. LARMER AND A PARTY SENT TO TRACE IT.

April 25.

Early this morning I despatched Mr. Larmer and The Doctor, Muirhead and Whiting, supplied with four days' provisions and water. The party was directed to look well around the scrub, and on discovering the track to follow it, wherever it led, until they found Mr. Cunningham or his remains; for in such a country I began to despair of discovering him alive after so long an absence. They did not return until the evening of the 28th, when all they brought of Mr. Cunningham was his saddle and bridle, whip, one glove, two straps, and a piece of paper folded like a letter inside of which were cut (as with a penknife) the letters N.E.

MR. CUNNINGHAM'S TRACK FOLLOWED FOR 70 MILES, HIS HORSE FOUND DEAD.

Mr. Larmer reported that, having easily found the track of the horse beyond the scrub, they had followed it until they came to where the horse lay dead, having still the saddle on and the bridle in its mouth; the whip and straps had been previously found, and from these circ.u.mstances, the tortuous track of the horse, and the absence of Mr. Cunningham's own footsteps for some way from where the horse was found; it was considered that he had either left the animal in despair, or that it had got away from him. At all events it had evidently died for want of water; but the fate of its unfortunate rider was still a mystery.

HIS OWN FOOTSTEPS TRACED.

It appeared from Mr. Larmer's map of Mr. Cunningham's track that he had deviated from our line after crossing Bullock creek, and had proceeded about fourteen miles to the north-west where marks of his having tied up his horse and lain down induced the party to believe that he had there pa.s.sed the first dreary night of his wandering.