ARTESIAN". WATER IN’ WESTERN QUEENSLAND. 
331 
interruptions. The work is still unfinished, but the economic interest 
of the subject may be held to justify an account of the results so far 
being laid before the Association. 
The bulk of the rain which falls in Queensland is intercepted by 
the belt of elevated country near the east coast. The country to the 
west does not receive, on an average, more than from a half to a third 
of the amount of rain which falls in the eastern coastal districts. It 
so happens that, owing to the nature of the soil, the western interior 
supports grasses of a kind infinitely superior to those of the coast, but 
in the long intervals between rains the rivers dry up for the most part, 
till it becomes a long day’s journey from waterhole to waterhole. The 
result is that only a small proportion of the magnificent land is actually 
“ available” for pastoral purposes, the distance to which cattle can 
“’feed back” from the water before thirst compels them to return to 
drink being the limit of the country which can possibty be used. I 
may be excused for quoting what I wrote in the beginning of 1882, 
in an account of the Transcontinental Hallway Expedition, to show the 
state of the country in dry seasons: — 
“On making inquiries as to water between the Cloncurry and 
Win ton, I learned that the country was about at its worst, there 
having been no rain for nine months except in very local showers. 
The usual route up the Gilliatt Eiver and Mackinlay Creek to 
Beaudesert, and thence to Belkate, on the Diamantina, was practically 
closed for the season. I determined to go by Eastern Creek, where 
there had been some little rain. We had camped on the night of 20th 
December on the Gilliatt Eiver, where it is crossed by the Hughenden 
Eoad. The waterhole had fallen to a puddle about 10 feet in 
diameter, and when we arrived we found it in possession of a large 
mob of cattle. After the water had been boiled twice and skimmed 
and decanted it was good enough to make tea with. The horses, 
however, could not be expected to like it, and on the 2 1st five of them 
were missing. They were not found till four o’clock. I thought we 
could reach the Eight-mile Waterholo on Eastern Creek (distant about 
8 miles from our camp) before dark. We struck Eastern Creek just 
after sunset, about 2 miles below the Eight-mile Hole. In creeks in 
the “downs” it is very hard to tell which is the main channel, and we 
unfortunately selected one of the months of a tributary called Sadowa 
Creek. Finding' no water in this, and in the belief that we were 
running up Eastern Creek, we followed Sadowa Creek for 9^ miles in 
the dark, when w r e had to camp (at 11 o’clock at night) without water. 
In the early morning of next day we packed up and retraced our 
steps. We found in Eastern Creek, a little above its junction with 
Sadowa Creek (surveyor’s tree 33), a waterhole, which we afterwards 
found out to be the lower part of the Eight-mile Hole, but far separated 
by the drought from the upper part. The hole was very small. The 
water could not last another week, and a wide border of treacherous 
clay surrounded it. A large mob of cattle was crowded on the banks, 
but the animals only ventured in one by one, after they had become 
fairly maddened by thirst. Then they had a struggle for life in 
getting out. Four head of cattle were hopelessly bogged — alive, but 
doomed to a lingering death. We tied all the horses up; and watered 
them with the tin dishes. We had to run Eastern Creek down (8 miles) 
