did. His three surviving companions mournfully buried him in the desert

with such strength as was still left them, but were so exhausted with the labour of digging his grave as to require a day's rest before attempting to renew the journey. They, too, must have succumbed to their troubles but for the sustaining power of hope, which told them the longed-for depôt could not now be far distant. Other indications also pointed the same way, and in four days after leaving Gray's grave their eyes were gladdened with the sight of the familiar landmarks of the old camping ground on the Barcoo. Burke gathered up all his remaining strength and made the desert ring with "cooeys" for his former comrades, and listened for a reply; but, _horresco referens_, no response was returned but the echo of his own voice. Could it be possible that the depôt was abandoned, and the miserable men left to perish in the wilderness? The appalling thought was quickly succeeded by the experience of the more terrible reality. The place of the encampment was plainly visible, and the stockade still standing, but no human being to break the solitude. Man could not suffer a more crushing disappointment; and it is not surprising to hear that Burke now completely broke down. But, after a short interval, one ray of hope sprang up from the depth of despair. A marked tree happened to catch the eye of one of the explorers, which contained the inscription, "Dig three feet westward." Wills and King immediately began to excavate, but Burke was too much unmanned to render any assistance. The hole was found to contain a chest with some supplies and a letter of explanation. This unhappy day in the experience of the explorers was the 21st of April, and the letter was eagerly opened to ascertain what time Brahe and his men had left. The date was also the 21st of April, at noon--in fact, the ink was scarcely dry, for the letter had been written only seven hours before it fell into the hands of Burke. It stated, in explanation, that they had remained in the depôt four months; that Wright had not come with the supplies from Menindie; that the blacks were troublesome and their own provisions exhausted. Moreover, as Burke had engaged to return in three months, they considered, at the end of four, that he must have perished or taken another route.

What was to be done? To remain in the abandoned depôt was to perish, for the amount of provisions could only afford a very temporary relief. Wills recommended an immediate move in the direction of Menindie, on the track of Brahe and party; but Burke was strongly in favour of making for South Australia, whose pastoral stations now reached as far as Mount Hopeless. At first sight there seemed reason in this advice. Burke argued that it was impossible to overtake Brahe in their emaciated condition; that Menindie was 400 miles from the depôt, whereas Mount Hopeless was only 150; and that the Barcoo River might be expected to supply them with water for the most of the route. The course to Mount Hopeless was accordingly adopted. Thinking the depôt might possibly be visited by a relief party, they took the precaution of burying a letter at the foot of the marked tree, stating the direction they had taken, adding that their weak condition rendered it impossible to travel more than four or five miles a day; but, by a strange oversight, left no external indications which would lead such a relief party to conclude that the place had been visited by the explorers. Having taken the handful of provisions, Burke, Wills and King, together with the two surviving camels, started for the most northern settlement of South Australia, striving to make the shortest course, and coming on to the river only when water failed them elsewhere. One of the camels, unfortunately, got bogged, and had to be shot, after two days' labour had been spent in trying to extricate it. As much of its flesh as could be recovered was dried and added to the small and rapidly diminishing store of provisions. They managed to save a little, also, through an occasional present of fish from the native tribes, who, fortunately, were very friendly. But a great and unexpected misfortune now befell the unhappy explorers. The Barcoo, which had been reckoned on to supply them with water, split up into several channels and lost itself in the desert. One branch after another was followed for some distance, but with no other result than the consumption of their provisions and the loss of the one surviving camel. They were now reduced to dire extremity through want of both food and water, and debated with themselves whether they should continue the journey or return and encamp on the nearest waterhole in the river, and endeavour to get subsistence from the blacks. It was difficult to say how much ground had been travelled over, but they supposed it must be somewhere about 45 miles. In reality it was about double that distance; and if they could have made another good day's journey to the south they would have seen Mount Hopeless raise its friendly head above the horizon. But, by another of those fatal decisions which haunted this expedition, they resolved to abandon their journey and return to the banks of the river. Fighting against despair even yet, they conceived a faint hope that the depôt might have been visited in the interim, and Wills, with the consent and advice of Burke and King, walked back, as he was able, to see if any relief had arrived. He reached the end of his journey on the 30th of May, but found no one there, and saw no indications which could lead him to think the place had been visited since his own party had left. Sorrowful at heart, but brave in spirit to the last, Wills again retraced his steps, and returned to his companions in a very exhausted condition; but he could not have reached them at all without the help of the blacks. All three were now destitute, and, with the exception of an occasional present of fish, had nothing in the shape of provisions. But even yet there appeared to be one resort which lay between them and death by starvation. The country abounded with a plant called nardoo, the seeds of which, when pounded and baked into a cake, were eaten by the natives. The starving explorers adopted the same practice, in the hope of still further prolonging their existence. But a little experience proved that the nardoo cakes, although allaying the pangs of hunger, contained little nourishment, and the heroic sufferers had now fallen into the last stage of starvation. If they were to live at all, it was evident they must cast themselves on the blacks, and trust to their charity. Dreadful as the alternative was, they agreed to adopt it, for life is sweet, even in the wilderness. But just here an insuperable difficulty intervened, for the blacks were not at hand and had to be sought out. Burke and King had yet strength to walk a mile, or perhaps two, in a day. But poor Wills could walk no more, and yet he was willing that his companions should go and save themselves, if too late to save him. They put together a rude shelter, and left to seek the blacks, after taking a sorrowful departure, which could hardly fail to be final, for his life was visibly ebbing away. But they were not to go far. On the second day Burke succumbed, and felt his end to be at hand. He was a brave man, yet he shrank from the idea of dying alone, and entreated King to stay with him until all was over. His dying request was religiously observed by his trusty friend, who held him in his arms till he breathed his last. Seeing he could render no more assistance there, King returned to see how it was with Wills. It was all peace, for he, too, lay quietly asleep in the arms of Death. Beside his dead body lay his journal, in which he had made his last entry with his trembling hand, noting the aspect of the weather, and added, with a stroke of pleasantry even yet, that he was just like Mr. Micawber, waiting for something to turn up. Such was the end of William John Wills, the most amiable and noble-minded of Australia's explorers. His life was one of singular promise, and great things might have been expected from him had he not, unhappily, perished in his youth. He was only 27 years of age when he fell a sacrifice to the incompetency of others whom he served or trusted. The disconsolate King was now alone in the wilderness, with his dead leaders on either side of him. Having performed his last duties to the departed, as best he could, he sought and found his sable benefactors, who received him as one of themselves, and proved by their conduct that hospitality towards the distressed is a virtue which even savages can exercise.

Having seen the last of Burke and Wills, and left King safe for the present in the hands of the friendly aborigines, let us return to the Barcoo depôt, in the hope of finding some explanation of the mystery which enshrouds that most unlucky centre of operations. Brahe, as has been already noticed, took his departure on the 21st of April, bound for Menindie. He had travelled only eight days when Wright was met coming on, _at last_, with the bulk of the supplies for the expedition. After a brief consultation the two leaders resolved to come on to the Barcoo depôt, which they reached in another eight days. Burke and party had been there during the interval, but as they left no external marks, Wright and Brahe, after a few minutes' cursory examination, concluded the depôt had not been visited, and almost immediately took their departure for Melbourne, without putting themselves to the trouble of opening the hole at the foot of the marked tree, where the explorers' letter was concealed. Again the place was left without any external indications for the direction of their friends, who might return, and when the depôt was visited by Wills, about a fortnight later, he concluded, in the absence of such indications, that no one had been there since his own party left.

Almost everyone connected with this expedition is to blame in some degree for the disasters in which it ended. The committee at Melbourne went to sleep, and were aroused to vigorous action when it was too late. Burke and party were at fault in leaving the depôt for Mount Hopeless without making some external marks which might catch the eye of anyone who should come with supplies. Brahe and Wright were guilty of unpardonable neglect in finally leaving the Barcoo depôt without opening the _cache_, to see whether the depôt chest of provisions had been taken or not. But the real author of the disasters was Wright, who loitered four months at Menindie, while the heroic explorers were slowly dying of starvation. He alleged in his defence that Burke had asked him to remain until his own appointment was confirmed by the Melbourne committee. But this is extremely improbable, and is contradicted by Burke's own despatches. For the shortcomings of the others a tolerable excuse may be made, but for the cruel conduct of Wright there is neither justification nor defence, for all the evidence saddles him with the responsibility of the horrible tragedy in which this once splendid expedition closed its career.