about three miles away from the station the rear tire went flat. I had left around 11.30, expecting to make the trip in about an hour but as it turned out I had to walk six miles, pushing the darned cycle along with me. About half way back I crossed the Larradeinya Creek, there about thigh deep, and was so pooped out that I simply took off my clothes, though I don't know why as they were soaked anyway, and lay down in the river for ten minutes. That did something in the way of reviving me but by the time I completed the next three miles and Lockerbie hove in view, I was something of a wreck, and more than that, a tantalized wreck. That delicious gladd of ice water floated along in front of me, just out of reach, for the whole time. My feet were in poor shape, as was the rest of me, but some food and a bath did wonders and I must try to repair the bike tomorrow. Old Moreton had returned from Cowal Creek, bringing with him Willie Somerset, mentioned by the Protector's Office, and an note from the man in charge at Cowal Creek, Tamway, a Malay I think, saying that Robert and Bob were in the jail-house for desertion. Martin Ropeyarn, Moreton told me, had gone walkabout, but might join us later and another boy is due tomorrow anyway. The staff is intact again and the two Roberts languishing in the cooler should do something for us in the matter of prestige. Another result of my visit was permission to use the lineman's hut when we reach Canameia Lagoon, the camp which follows Somerset. Somerset, by the way is nominal, because the place does show on the map. Actually we shall make camp at Lake Bronte, south and west from Somerset. At Sanameia we shall be in alligator country, the place being a freshwater marsh, draining through one small outlet into the Jardine River, itself famous for its crocodile content. At Sanameia the .303 should come into its own. I hope to get some mail finished either tonight or tomorrow and leave it with Ginger Dick for transportation to R.I.P., whence it will go to Thursday Island sometime. And it is odd, under the nomadic conditions we live by, how attached one will get to a camp site. We shall miss Ginger Dick dropping in and I know Van will miss young Dick, who has been his night-hunting companion almost every evening. More than anything else I shall, I trust, miss the green ants. Mango trees attract them and while they have not penetrated our mosquito nets, they have invaded practically everything else. They rarely bite or sting or whatever ants do, but delight in falling down one's shirt and walking around under the clothing. May 1st was the start of the official Australian winter, which we celebrated with a temperature of 96. From now on, people will come north from Sydney, Melbourne and Brisbane in order to get warm as it goes as low as 50 in those cities and in Victoria and the south portion of New South Wales. Hides Hotel in Cairns, will do a roaring business for the next four months but by the time we are able to go there again winter will be over and there should be room for us for the few days required for our packing and departure. On that score, in a month or so, I suppose I should be doing something about our return trans-Pacific trip. Tomorrow the boys are picking up their traps and except for visits during which we shall refresh our supplies, Lockerbie will be a thing of the past. Something accomplished and finished with, which gives one a very good feeling as during the Cairns period we accomplished so many things but never could say that we had finished any part of our job.