102 
The worst tree to cut through is a Dracophyllum, bearing 
a magnificent flower about 10 inches in length, like a small 
core of a maize cob covered by lovely tiny pink and white 
and blue flowers, and terminating in gorgeously-coloured pointed 
leaves. As the work of the 25th requires some special description, I 
will conclude this chapter with a little episode at the Pools the first 
night we camped there. The pavilion camp was pitched on the centre 
of the rocks out in the open, Broadbent's tent by itself about twelve 
yards away. Broadbent was reading to a late hour, and went to 
sleep leaving his candle burning. On the pole of his tent over 
the door he hung a towel and about 10 lb. of corned beef. Two 
men with no clothes on might have been seen at midnight stand- 
ing out on the rocks, in the dark shadows, hatching a deep 
unscrupulous conspiracy. One of these ruffians, bearing a strange 
resemblance to the leader of the expedition, was seen to creep 
stealthily and noiselessly into Broadbent's tent, gently snufE out the 
candle, remove the corned beef and towel, and plunge into the sur- 
rounding gloom. At daylight Broadbent roused us up to announce 
that a barefaced impudent robbery had been committed by a mjrall 
during the night, and that we were extremely fortunate in not all 
waking up, like the two Irishmen, to "find ourselves defunct!" 
Whelan and I at once started off on the warpath up the creek to 
discover the tracks of the marauder or perish. I returned in about a 
quarter of an hour to say that we had found traces of the thief, and 
Whelan was away in hot pursuit. In about half-an-hour a shot was 
heard away up a lonely ravine, and shortly afterwards Whelan 
returned carrying the corned beef covered with gravel, and the towel 
looking as if it had been dragged down Queen-street on a wet day 
behind a tram-car. Broadbent smiled sweetly over the swift and 
terrible retribution that had overtaken his enemy. He seized his 
towel with a look of grim satisfaction and gazed sadly at the mangled 
fragment of dilapidated sirloin. Thus all ended according to the 
strictest principles of eternal justice, but there are still living on this 
planet two men who ought to consider it a solemn duty to pray 
earnestly for Broadbent's forgiveness before they die. 
No. III. 
On the 25th of June I started to finish the journey to the centre 
peak. Broadbent accompanied me, leaving Bailey and Harold col- 
lecting on the south end of the mountain. The day was cold, ther- 
mometer rising only to 50 degrees at midday, and the usual merciless 
wind blowing from the Herberton tablelands. Vegetation all wet, and 
light showers falling at intervals. At noon we stood on the centre 
peak at a height of 5,240 feet, the first men who ever put a foot on 
the highest point of Bellenden-Ker. All the way to the extreme verge 
we passed through dense brushwood and short tree ferns. The peak 
narrowed to about 30 feet wide, covered chiefly by the Dracophyllum 
and the dome-topped myrtle. Among the smaller shrubs was one 
bearing a small white flower, with a delightful perfume which filled 
all the atmosphere around. A large myrtle had partly fallen on the 
outer point, and on the trunk of this we stood free of all surrounding 
vegetation, with a clear view to all quarters of the earth. And what a 
