Flights of cockatoos, of parrots, of pigeons,
and of bitterns; birds, also, whose notes had cheered us in the
wilderness, all had taken the same high road to a better and more
hospitable region."
And now the water began to sink with frightful rapidity, and they all
thought that the end was surely coming. Hoping against hope, Sturt laid
his plans to start as soon as the drought broke up, himself to proceed
north and west whilst poor Poole, reduced to a frightful condition by
scurvy, was to be sent carefully back as the only means of saving his
life.
On the 12th and 13th of July the rain commenced, and the siege was
raised, but Poole never lived to profit by it. Every arrangement for his
comfort was made that the circumstances permitted, but on the first day's
journey he died, and they brought his body back to the depot and made his
lonely grave there. Sturt's way was now open. After burying his lamented
friend, he again dispatched the party that was selected to return home,
and, with renewed hope, made preparations for the northwest. He first,
however, removed the depot to a better grassed locality, water being now
plentiful everywhere.
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