north for perhaps a mile and a half. At one point a red kangaroo sat on the sand and looked at me from a distance of about sixty yards. I did not fire, first because the range was doubtful for a shotgun, which I was carrying and, secondly, because George has said that he does not want any more of them. We gazed at each other for fully a minute and the sun behind the roo shone through his ears, sticking up from his head, making them look transparent and hazy. Finally he loped heavily away. Most of the afternoon was taken up with a visit through the workings of the Black Cat Mine, entered by standing in a bucket and being dropped down an eighty foot shaft. The tunnels and passages are extensive and the heat terri- fic. The mine got into bad condition during the war as all the Fisher boys were in the army; on their return they found it flooded and even now the passages in the lower levels are choked with water and unworkable until pumped. They have pumps but they are not powerful enough to do all the work required to clear those parts of the mine that are being worked and clear the lower levels also. It is a grim, back-breaking job that they have set themselves and one can only wish them luck. The truck that is to take us to Coen is still out of order and so far I have no word of our next move, nor where we shall camp in the Coen area. It is essential that we get out of the place because, with Race Week on, there would be little chance of getting any work done on account of constant visi- tors. Wednesday, 23 July 1948. It was not until this afternoon that Hughie got his truck in such shape that he could say definitely that we could get away tomorrow morning. Accordingly, after a morning spent wandering fruitlessly over the burned countryside, have begun to load up this afternoon. During my wanderings I had found little but some aboriginal sketches on the rocks. They represented a man, a crocodile, a dingo and many turtles, done in red ochre on the inside of sandstone rock overhangs. They were in a place named Tunnel Gully, because, probably, of the channels and tunnels formed by the rockfalls. Fairly late in the afternoon we manhandled the trailer up to camp and began to load up. At the moment only the trailer is here but we hope that the truck itself will somehow materialize. Everybody except George, Joe and I were invited out somewhere for din- er and went untimely; we three stayed in camp and eventually the others filtered back and entered our party. Now we have broken up and I am doing this by inferior light but in a few minutes we go to a farewell party. We hope to pull out about 8 A.M. tomorrow morning and should reach the Archer River crossing by mid-afternoon, where we shall spend two nights. The "terrible" Archer, it has been called by people who have crossed it before, on account of its width mainly, I think. Even now it is about four hundred yards wide and in the wet season must be a couple of miles. Its crossing I shall write about later when I know more about it. Then too I shall be able to write about the hunting on its banks, and the day after I do that I can say something about Coen, something of a metropolis, with forty people. Thursday, 29 July 1948. The farewell party turned out to be rather a sing- song than anything else, owing to an unfortunate shortage of the things required to make it anything else, but it was very nice and Joe rendered "Dangerous Dan McGrew" with such an expression of com-