Tuesday, 7th August, Clay-pans in Sand Hills. A light dew fell last night and this morning, which I am very glad of; it will be a good thing for the horses. Kekwick was unwell last night, but I cannot stop on his account. He must endure it the best way he can. If I find water at where I suppose the Finke joins the gum creek that runs a little north of Mount Humphries, I will remain there a day to give him rest. He is completely done up. I hope he will not get worse. I must push back as quickly as possible, and get him into the settled districts. At noon we made the Finke. Still the same white, sandy bed; but here it is about a quarter of a mile broad, and the east bank is composed of white sandstone, with a course of light slate on the top of it, then courses of limestone and other rocks, and, on the top of all, red sand hills. The gum-trees are not so large as they are further north. On first striking the creek we could find no water, but, by following it down for a short distance, we discovered a little, which will do for us. It is more than I expected, and I feel most thankful for it. Kekwick still very ill. Poor fellow, he is suffering very much. I dare not show him much pity, or I should have the other giving in altogether. I hope and trust he will soon get better again, and that to-morrow's rest may do him good. He has been a most valuable man to me. I place entire confidence in him. A better one I could not have got. I wish the other had been like him, and then neither he nor I should have suffered so much from hunger. Wind, south-east.