the next twenty-four hours were without incident, as they went through the intolerable and blatant monotony of australian river scenery, in which all change was quiet renewal. the banks of the stream were still steep, and one bend was so like another that their progress seemed vain; they were like three ants floating desperately in a ditch. the sun set and the close heat remained; the heavy odours of the bush drifted down into their drain, and the mosquitoes made their lives a burden. and then the sun rose once more, and climbed into a brazen sky, and burned them into blisters. for no breeze tempered its fierce rays, not a shadow of a cloud protected them. they went steadily west, towards the sea, perhaps, but more certainly still into the unknown.

though smith believed that the brodarro would now leave them, being terrified by the inexplicable and terrible loss of four of their best and bravest men, it was by no means certain that they might not at any moment come across some tribe of black-fellows, as hard to deal with, and of infinitely more natural ferocity. the brodarro, descendants of white men, had some of a white man's qualities, and they were not naturally the enemies of their own colour in these later generations. but with the blacks it would be different; at any rate, it might be. if the brodarro were ever cannibal, it was only under exceptional and heavy pressure; but many of the aboriginal tribes were men-eaters always, and needed no other excitement than common need. they could, then, only pray that they might meet none.

it was curious, however, that kitty showed little fear of the aboriginals. her people had so harried and destroyed those with whom they came into hostile conflict, that she could hardly understand how they would dare to attack two whites together. and now that she was with two white men of an entirely superior order, who had weapons which made a most awe-inspiring row, and killed as far as a well-thrown spear, she entirely despised the black-fellows.

"they are foolish men," she said, "and do not really know how to fight. they can throw spears at a man who is asleep, that is all. only the little devil men of the caves are bad."

she had referred to these before.

"who are the little devil men, kitty?" smith asked.

"a long time ago we fought with them," she said. "they lived in caves over yonder," she pointed to the north-east; "and when i was smaller we came there. and every night a man died, and sometimes a woman, and they had a little arrow in them as long as my hand. but we never saw those who shot them. we were very much frightened, and thought they were spirits. but big jack found they lived in caves, red caves, and we made a big, big fire in the mouths of the caves. and then we saw the smoke come out far off; and some went there and found a hole big enough for a dingo. and then a little woman came out; she was white like clay; and bill speared her. then some men came; they were no bigger than a child when it no longer sucks, but they were very strong. so we speared them until no more would come out. the rest died in the smoke. we found them after three days. they had little spears, and little bows and arrows, and the scratch of an arrow killed a man like the bite of a snake."

"horrible," said smith. "on my soul, baker, mrs. mandeville can spin a yarn. i'm not surprised at her caring nothing about the ordinary open-air black-fellow after that. but, then, these were white, too."

and he pondered over all the problems this journey presented for solution. what did we know yet about all the world's secrets? if we were told anything out of the way, we smiled; and those who exercised their little faculties in little books sat on the judgment-seat.

but neither smith nor the baker had overmuch thought to spare for quiet speculation. for now their stock of burned kangaroo was almost done for.

"how are we going to live?" asked smith.

"we might go up the bank, and lay for a kangaroo," said the baker.

"lay! how long?" asked smith. "kitty, how are we to get more to eat?"

"i can get grubs," said kitty, and when she saw the men shake their heads, she suggested she might find a 'possum.

"you can try later," said smith.

and that night she caught a 'possum, which was coiled up most comfortably in a hole in a rotten stump. she banged it on the ground, and killed it, and they cooked their dinner.

"i think," said smith, as they smoked the baker's pipe in turns, "that we are coming to a change in this infernal scenery."

the baker looked up the banks.

"don't see much bally h'alteration," he answered.

"you have as much observation as a policeman," said smith. "the timber is scantier and not so dense, and the banks are not so high. if i'm not off it, we are going into a brown burnt desert, with no trees at all."

"the lord forbid," said the baker piously. "but there's water any'ow. that suits me. i don't mind 'unger."

"no, not when ye're full of 'possum," said smith.

"who stood it best on the billabong?" asked the baker.

"why, you did, old man," said smith.

"then that's hall right," cried the baker cheerfully; "and don't get snake-headed if i says so. if we gets very hard up for grub, we can eat mrs. mandeville. eh, kitty?"

and kitty grinned, and snuggled up close to her man.

"you can, baker," she said, "but not smith."

they camped that night on the bank, but by the earliest dawn they were afloat again. and long before noon it was obvious that smith's prediction as to the change in the scenery was rapidly coming true. for the trees were scantier and scantier still, and the banks obviously lower. finally, the timber disappeared, and they came to a low range through which the river flowed. the only vegetation was a small dense scrub, and even that grew in patches among sand.

"if this ain't an un'oly-looking country, i dunno what a gawd-forsaken place is," said the baker. "you can't catch no 'possum in this 'ere place, missis."

but mrs. mandeville laughed. if there were no 'possums there were sure to be ground iguanas, she explained. so they paddled on through the red desolation.

the range was no more than five miles across, and at its highest the river flowed through a cañon-like passage two hundred feet deep. when they were through, the range dropped away pretty suddenly, and just before they came to a bend, they could, by standing up, see an illimitable plain before them.

"by gosh," said the baker, "it's good to 'ave a river to take us through that. it reminds me of the look-out from new find, smith."

and they drifted out upon the open plain, which was not quite level, but rolling like sand dunes.

"and it is sand," said smith, as he worked the bow paddle. but gradually anxiety grew into his keen, brown face. "if it's so, god help us," he said.

the two behind him saw nothing, but chattered together.

"good old baker," said smith, "he's quite happy with this girl just now. and i'm thinking of another kind of woman. shall i ever see her?"

and he shoved his paddle straight down into the water. it touched the bottom.

"'ullo, smith," cried the baker, "don't go and miss your bloomin' tip, and tumble h'overboard."

they rounded a bend.

"it wouldn't matter," said smith gravely; "where's the river, baker?"

and they grounded on a sand bank.