"
This then was Sturt's prison, although at first he had not realised that
in spite of every precaution, his retreat was cut off until the next
rainfall.
Of Sturt's existence and occupation during this dreary period little can
be said. He tried in every direction, until convinced of the uselessness
of so doing, sometimes encouraged and led on by shallow pools in some
fragmentary creek bed, at others, seeing nothing before him but hopeless
aridity. Now, too, he found himself attacked with what he then thought
was rheumatism, but proved to be scurvy, and Poole and Browne too were
afflicted in the same way.
We now come to one of the picturesque incidents that Sturt has introduced
in his narrative, and that help to fix on our memory the strangely weird
picture of the lonely band of men confronted with the unaccustomed forces
of nature in this wilderness.
"As we rode across the stony plain lying between us and the hills, the
heated and parching blasts that came upon us, were more than we could
bear. We were in the centre of the plain, when Mr. Browne drew my
attention to a number of small black specks in the upper air.
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