VII 
SLEEPING IN THE OPEN 
87 
rigged up their quarters some distance off ; by nine 
o’clock the fires had gone out, and there was not a 
sound but the scrunch of grazing horses and the clank 
of their hobbles as they went to fresh feeding grounds. 
There was something unspeakably sad in the silence 
of the night. The moon cast uncertain shadows round 
projecting rocks and the stems of the trees, weaving 
them into impish forms. Not a leaf was stirring and 
the silence was death-like. I tried to sleep, but my rest 
was as disturbed as my thoughts. Don’t believe when 
told that sleep in the open air is so restful. My first 
experience here of it was not promising, and I was 
glad enough when morning came, and with daylight 
a thousand songs. Hordes of insects ran on the 
ground with important air, and flew through the shafts 
of sunlight ; numbers of parrots bent the fragile boughs 
of the gums as they sucked the honey from the flowers, 
incessantly chattering the while, a kangaroo hopped to 
the water to drink, and bounded off in frantic haste as 
he caught sight of our caravan. What a sunrise it 
was ! A ladder of golden shafts shot up through the 
sky, all barred with deep purple, and outlining the 
pink clouds above with threads of molten gold. 
Joe went off at daylight and shot a fat jungle hen 
for the men’s breakfast. Appetites satisfied, and our 
kits packed up, by nine o’clock we were off again, with 
nothing left behind as a memorial of our brief pilgrimage 
but two small black patches of ashes which the next 
wind would scatter. We now came into a land of bottle- 
trees, and had to steer our way most delicately be- 
tween them and pinnacles of yellow clay four and five 
feet high, the homes of white ants. Leaving these we 
came into forest country, where from in front came 
the sound of distant lowing of cattle and the sharp 
crack of stock-whips. The barking of dogs and loud 
