The desert ridden through the day before, seemed doubly desolate as we
returned. The heat was intolerable, in consequence of a hot wind that
blew upon us like a sirocco from the N.W., and the air so rarified that
we could hardly breathe, and were greatly distressed. To our infinite
relief we got back to the creek at half-past two, after a ride of about
37 miles.
The first thing we did on arriving, was to visit the hut of the natives
to see if they had been there during our absence, but as my knife still
dangled on the spear, we were led to conclude they had not. On examining
the edifice, however, we missed several things that had been left
untouched by us, and from the fresh footsteps of natives over our own of
the day before, it was clear they had been back. The knife which was
intended as a peace-offering, seems to have scared them away in almost as
much haste as if we had been at their heels. There can be no doubt but
that they took it for an evil spirit, at which they were, perhaps, more
alarmed than at our uncouth appearance. Be that as it may, we departed
from the creek without seeing anything of these poor people.
At a little distance from the creek to the N.W., upon a rising piece of
ground, and certainly above the reach of floods, there were seven or
eight huts, very different in shape and substance from any we had seen.
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