Chapter V (2)

The geological formation of these hills was perfectly new, for they were now composed almost exclusively of indurated or compact quartz. The hills themselves no longer presented the character of ranges, properly so called, but were a group of flat-topped hills, similar to those figured by Flinders, King, and other navigators. Some were altogether detached from the main group, not more than two-thirds of a mile in length, with less than a third of that breadth, and an elevation of between three and four hundred feet. These detached hills were perfectly level at the top, and their sides declined at an angle of 54 degrees. The main group as we now saw it appeared to consist of a number of projecting points, connected by semicircular sweeps of greater or less depth. There was no vegetation on the sides either of the detached hills or of the projecting points, but they consisted of a compact white quartz, that had been split by solar heat into innumerable fragments in the form of parallelograms. Vast heaps of these laid at the base of the hills, and resembled the ruins of a town, the edifices of which had been shaken to pieces by an earthquake, and on a closer examination it appeared to me that a portion of the rock thus scaled off periodically. We approached these hills by a gradual ascent, over ground exceedingly stony in places; but as we neared them it became less so, the soil being a decomposition of the geological structure of the hills. It was covered with a long kind of grass in tufts, but growing closer together than usual. There were bare patches of fine blistered soil, that had as it were been raised into small hillocks, and on these, rounded particles, or stools, if I may so call them, of gypsum rested, oval or round, but varying in diameter from three to ten inches or more. These stools were perfectly flat and transparent, the upper surface smooth, but in the centre of the under surface a pointed projection, like that in a bull's eye in window glass was buried in the ground, as if the gypsum was in process of formation.

On leaving the lagoon, we crossed the creek, riding on a north-east course over stony plains, and at five miles struck another creek in which we found a good supply of water, coming direct from the hills, and continuing to the S.S.E., became tributary to the one we had just left. I had taken bearings of two of the most prominent points on the ranges from the lagoon, and directing Flood to go to one of them with Joseph, and wait for me at the base, I rode away with Mr. Browne to ascend the other; but finding it was much farther than we had imagined, that it would take us out of our way, and oblige us to return, we checked our horses and made for the other hill, at the foot of which Flood had already arrived. The ascent was steep and difficult, nor did the view from its summit reward our toil. If there was anything interesting about it, it was the remarkable geological formation of the ranges. The reader will understand their character and structure from the accompanying cut, better than from any description I can give. They were, in fact, wholly different in formation from hills in general. To the westward there was a low, depressed tract, with an unbroken horizon and a gloomy scrub. Southwards the country was exceedingly broken, hilly, and confused; but there was a line of hills bounding this rugged region to the eastward, and immediately beyond that range were the plains I had crossed in going to Mount Lyell. From the point on which we stood there were numerous other projecting points, similar to those of the headlands in the channel, falling outwards at an angle of 55 degrees, as if they had crumbled down from perpendicular precipices. The faces of these points were of a dirty white, without any vegetation growing on them; they fell back in semicircular sweeps, and the ground behind sloped abruptly down to the plains. The ranges were all flat-topped and devoid of timber, but the vegetation resembled that of the country at their base, and the fragments of rock scattered over them were similar: that is to say, milky quartz, wood opal, granite, and other rocks (none of which occurred in the stratification of these ranges), were to be found on their summits as on the plains, and in equal proportion, as if the whole country had once been perfectly level, and that the hills had been forced up. Such indeed was the impression upon Mr. Poole's mind, when he returned to me from having visited these ranges. "They appear," he remarked, "to have been raised from the plains, so similar in every respect are their tops to the district below." Our eyes wandered over an immense expanse of country to the south, and we were enabled to take bearings of many of the hills near the camp, although there was some uncertainty in our recognition of them at the distance of 40 miles. The Red Hill, however, close to the camp bore south, and was full that distance from us. We could also see the course of the creeks we had been tracing, ultimately breaking through the range to the eastward and passing into the plains beyond. Behind us to the north there were many projecting points appearing above the level of the range. These seemed to be the northern termination of these hills, and beyond them the country was very low. The outline of the projecting points was hilly, and they were so exactly alike that it would have been impossible to have recognised any to which we might have taken bearings; but there were two little cones in a small range to the north upon which I felt I could rely with greater certainty. They respectively bore 302 and 306 from me; and as they were the only advanced points on which I could now keep up bearings, although in the midst of hills, I determined as soon as I should have examined the neighbourhood a little more, to proceed to them. From our first position we went to the next, a hill of about 450 feet in height, perfectly flat-topped, and detached from the main group.

In crossing over to this point the ground was stony, but there was a good deal of grass growing in tufts upon it, and bare patches of blistered earth on which flat stools of gypsum were apparently in process of formation. Immediately to the left there were five remarkable conical hills. These we successively passed, and then entered a narrow, short valley, between the last of these cones and the hill we were about to ascend. The ground was covered with fragments of indurated quartz (of which the whole group was composed), in parallelograms of different dimensions. The scene was like that of a city whose structures had been shaken to pieces by an earthquake--one of ruin and desolation. The faces of the hills, both here and in other parts of the group, were cracked by solar heat, and thus the rock was scaling off. We were here obliged to dismount and walk. The day being insufferably hot, it was no pleasant task to climb under such exposure to an elevation of nearly 500 feet. We had frequently to take breath during our ascent, and reached the summit of the hill somewhat exhausted. The view was precisely similar to that we had overlooked from the opposite point, which bore W. by N. from us. Again the two little peaks were visible to the N.N.W., and after taking bearings of several distant points, we descended, as I had determined on returning for the night to the creek we had passed in the morning, and tracing it into the hills on my way to the westward. Accordingly, on the following morning we commenced our journey up it at an early hour, not knowing where we should next find the water. At about six miles we had entered a valley, with high land on either side, and at a mile beyond reached the head of the creek, and had the steep brow of a hill to ascend, which I thought it most prudent first to attempt on foot. Mr. Browne and I, therefore, climbed it, and on looking back to the north-east, saw there was a declining plain in that direction. Over the level outline the tops of the projections of this range were to be seen all exactly alike; but there was an open space to the north-east, as if the fall of waters was to that point. There were also some low scattered trees upon the plain, seeming to mark the course of a creek. Anxious to ascertain if we had been so fortunate, I looked for a practicable line for the horses to ascend, and having got them up the hill, we pushed forward. On arriving at the first trees, there was a little channel, or rather gutter, and a greener verdure marked its course along the plain to the next trees. Gradually it became larger, and at last was fully developed as a creek. After tracing it down for some miles, having stony barren plains on both sides, we turned to look for the hill we had so lately left, and only for a red tint it had peculiar to itself, should we again have recognised it. We now pushed on in eager anticipation that sooner or later water would appear, and this hope was at last gratified by our arrival at a fine pool, into which we drove a brood of very young ducks, and might, if we had pleased, shot the mother; but although a roast duck would have been very acceptable, we spared her for her children's sake. This was a nice pond, but small. It was shaded by gum-trees, and there was a cavernous clay bank on the west side of it, in which gravel stones were embedded. Here we staid but for a short time, as it was early in the day. We had flushed numerous pigeons as we rode along, and flights came to the water while we stopped, but were not treated with the same forbearance as the duck. We shot two or three, and capital eating they were. About 3, we had left the creek, as it apparently turned to the eastward, and was lost on the plain, and crossing some stony ground, passed between two little ranges. We then found ourselves on the brow of a deep valley that separated us from the little cones we purposed ascending. The side of it which trended to the north-west was very abrupt and stony, and it was with some difficulty we descended into it; but that done, we left Morgan and Flood with the cart, and ascended the nearer peak.

From the summit of the highest of the cones we had a clear view round more than one half of the horizon. Immediately at the base of the ranges northwards, there was a long strip of plain, and beyond it a dark and gloomy scrub, that swept round from S.W. to E., keeping equi-distant from the hills, excepting at the latter point where it closed in upon them. On the N.W. horizon there was a small low undulating range, apparently unconnected with any other, and distant about 40 miles. No change had taken place in the geological formations of the main range. The same abrupt points, and detached flat-topped hills, characterised their northern as well as the southern extremity. We had now however reached their termination northwards, but they continued in an easterly direction until they were totally lost in the dark mass of scrub that covered and surrounded them, not one being of sufficient height to break the line of the horizon. To the S.W. a column of smoke was rising in the midst of the scrub, otherwise that desolate region appeared to be uninhabited. On descending from the peak, we turned to the N.W. along the line of a water-course at the bottom of the valley, tracing it for about four miles with every hope of finding the element we were in search of in its green bed, but we gained the point where the valley opened out upon the plains, and halted under disappointment, yet with good grass for the horses. Our little bivouac was in lat. 29 degrees 2 minutes 14 seconds S. The above outline will enable the reader to judge of the character of the hills, that still existed to the eastward of us, and the probability of their continuance or cessation. I must confess that they looked to me as if they had been so many small islands, off the point of a larger one. They rose in detached groups from the midst of the plains, as such islands from the midst of the sea, and their aspect altogether bore such a striking resemblance to many of the flat-topped islands round the Australian continent described by other travellers, that I could not but think they had once been similarly situated.

On the 18th I passed into the plains until we had cleared the hills, when we rode along their base on a course somewhat to the east of north. We kept about half a mile from the foot of the ranges, with the brush about three miles to our left, and a clear space between us and them. I had been induced to take this direction in the hope that if there were any creeks falling from the hills into the plains we should intersect them, and accordingly after a ride of about seven miles we observed some gum-trees, about two miles ahead. On a nearer approach we saw flights of pigeons, cockatoos, and parrots winging round about them, and making the air resound with their shrill notes. The anticipations these indications of our approach to water raised, were soon verified by our arrival on the banks of a small creek coming from the hills. Under the trees there were two little puddles, rather than pools of water. The one had been reduced to its last dregs, and smelt offensively, the other was very muddy but drinkable, and such as it was we were most grateful for it. The horses requiring rest here, I halted for the night, more especially as the day was unusually hot, and as we could see the creek line of trees extending to the N.W., towards the low range we had noticed in that direction from the little peak, I determined therefore to run it down in the morning, and to make for them, in the hope that something new would develop itself.

On the other side of the creek from that on which we remained, there was a new but unfinished hut. Round about it were the fresh impressions of feet of all sizes, so that it was clear a family of natives must have been engaged in erecting this simple edifice when we were approaching, and that we must have frightened them away. Under this idea Mr. Browne and I tried to find them, perhaps hid in some low brush near us, but we could not. The plains were exceedingly open on both sides, so that they must have seen us at a great distance, and thus had time for flight.

On the 19th we started at daylight, as I proposed if possible to gain the hills before sunset, that being as much as the horses would do. Running the creek down at three and a half miles we were again attracted by a number of birds, pigeons, the rose cockatoo, the crested paroquet, and a variety of others flying round a clump of trees at no great distance from us, but they were exceedingly wild and watchful. We found a pool under, or rather shaded by the trees, of tolerable size, and much better than the water nearer to the hills. Close to it also, on a sloping bank, there was another more than half finished hut from which the natives could only just have retreated, for they had left all their worldly goods behind them; thus it appeared we had scared these poor people a second time from their work. I was really sorry for the trouble we had unintentionally given them, and in order to make up for it, I fastened my own knife with a glittering blade, to the top of a spear that stood upright in front of the hut; not without hopes that the owner of the weapon seeing we intended them no harm, would come to us on our return from the hills.

Below this water-hole the creek sensibly diminished. Crossing and abandoning it we struck away to the N.W. At about half a mile we entered the scrub, which had indeed commenced from the water, but which at that distance became thick. We were then in a perfect desert, from the scrub we got on barren sandy flats, bounded at first by sandy ridges at some little distance from each other, but the formation soon changed, and the sand ridges succeeded each other like waves of the sea. We had no sooner descended one than we were ascending another, and the excessive heat of so confined a place oppressed us greatly. We had on our journey to the westward found an abundance of grass on the sand ridges as well as the flats; but in this desert there was not a blade to be seen. The ridges were covered with spinifex, through which we found it difficult to force a way, and the flats with salsolaceous productions alone. There were no pine trees, but the brush consisted of several kinds of acacia, casuarina, cassia, and hakeae, and these were more bushes than shrubs, for they seldom exceeded our own height, and had leaves only at the termination of their upper branches, all the under leaves having dropped off, withered by the intensity of the reflected surface heat. At one we stopped to rest the horses, but mounted again at half-past one, and reached the hills at 5 p.m. The same dreary desert extended to their base, only that as we approached the hills the flats were broader, and the fall of waters apparently to the east. The surface of the flats was furrowed by water, and there were large bare patches of red soil, but with the exception of a flossy grass that grew sparingly on some of them, nothing but rhagodia and atriplex flourished.

I had tried the temperature of boiling water at the spot where we stopped in the Rocky Glen, and found it to be 211 degrees and a small fraction; and as we descended a little after leaving the creek, we could not have been much above the sea level at one period of the day, although now more than 450 miles from the coast. Our ascent to the top of the little range was very gradual; its sides destitute alike of trees and vegetation, being profusely covered with fragments of indurated quartz, thinly coated with oxide of iron: when on the summit we could not have risen more than 120 feet. It extended for some miles to the N.E., apparently parallel to the ranges from which we had come, whose higher points were visible from it, but to the north and west the horizon was as level as that of the ocean. A dark gloomy sea of scrub without a break in its monotonous surface met our gaze, nor was there a new object of any kind to be seen indicative of a probable change of country. Had other hills appeared to the north I should have made for them, but to have descended into such a district as that below me, seemed to be too hazardous an experiment at this stage of our journey. I determined therefore to return to the main range, and examine it to the north-east. I could not but think, however, from the appearance of the country as far as we had gone, that we could not be very far from the outskirts of an inland sea, it so precisely resembled a low and barren sea coast. This idea I may say haunted me, and was the cause of my making a second journey to the same locality; but on the present occasion, as the sun had set, I retraced my steps to a small flat where we had noticed a little grass, and tethering our horses out laid down to rest.

The desert ridden through the day before, seemed doubly desolate as we returned. The heat was intolerable, in consequence of a hot wind that blew upon us like a sirocco from the N.W., and the air so rarified that we could hardly breathe, and were greatly distressed. To our infinite relief we got back to the creek at half-past two, after a ride of about 37 miles.

The first thing we did on arriving, was to visit the hut of the natives to see if they had been there during our absence, but as my knife still dangled on the spear, we were led to conclude they had not. On examining the edifice, however, we missed several things that had been left untouched by us, and from the fresh footsteps of natives over our own of the day before, it was clear they had been back. The knife which was intended as a peace-offering, seems to have scared them away in almost as much haste as if we had been at their heels. There can be no doubt but that they took it for an evil spirit, at which they were, perhaps, more alarmed than at our uncouth appearance. Be that as it may, we departed from the creek without seeing anything of these poor people.

At a little distance from the creek to the N.W., upon a rising piece of ground, and certainly above the reach of floods, there were seven or eight huts, very different in shape and substance from any we had seen. They were made of strong boughs fixed in a circle in the ground, so as to meet in a common centre; on these there was, as in some other huts I have had occasion to describe, a thick seam of grass and leaves, and over this again a compact coating of clay. They were from eight to ten feet in diameter, and about four and a half feet high, the opening into them not being larger than to allow a man to creep in. These huts also faced the north-west, and each had a smaller one attached to it as shewn in the sketch. Like those before seen they had been left in the neatest order by their occupants, and were evidently used during the rainy season, as they were at some little distance from the creek, and near one of those bare patches in which water must lodge at such times. At whatever season of the year the natives occupy these huts they must be a great comfort to them, for in winter they must be particularly warm, and in summer cooler than the outer air; but the greatest benefit they can confer on these poor people must be that of keeping them from ants, flies, and mosquitos: it is impossible to describe to the reader the annoyance we experienced from the flies during the day, and the ants at night. The latter in truth swarmed in myriads, worked under our covering, and creeping all over us, prevented our sleeping. The flies on the other hand began their attacks at early dawn, and whether we were in dense brush, on the open plain, or the herbless mountain top, they were equally numerous and equally troublesome. On the present occasion Mr. Browne and I regretted we had not taken possession of the deserted huts, as, if we had, we should have got rid of our tormentors, for there were not any to be seen near them. From the fact of these huts facing the north-west I conclude that their more inclement weather is from the opposite point of the compass. It was also evident from the circumstance of their being unoccupied at that time (January), that they were winter habitations, at which season the natives, no doubt, suffer greatly from cold and damp, the country being there much under water, at least from appearances. I had remarked that as we proceeded northwards the huts were more compactly built, and the opening or entrance into them smaller, as if the inhabitants of the more northern interior felt the winter's cold in proportion to the summer heat.

Our position at this point was in latitude 29 degrees 43 minutes S., and in longitude 141 degrees 14 minutes E., the variation being 5 degrees 21 minutes East. I had intended pushing on immediately to the ranges, and examining the country to the north-east; but I thought it prudent ere I did this to ascertain the farther course of this creek, as it appeared from observations we had just made that the fall of waters was to the eastward. We accordingly started at daylight on the 20th, but after tracing it for a few miles, found that it turned sharp round to the westward and spread over a flat, beyond which its channel was nowhere to be found. I therefore turned towards the ranges, and arriving at the upper water-hole at half-past two, determined to stop until the temperature should cool down in the afternoon before I proceeded along the line of hills to the N.E., for the day had been terrifically hot, and both ourselves and our horses were overpowered with extreme lassitude. At a quarter past 3, p.m. on the 21st of January, the thermometer had risen to 131 degrees in the shade, and to 154 degrees in the direct rays of the sun. In the evening however we pushed on for about ten miles, and halted on a plain about a mile from the base of the hills, without water.

On the 22nd we continued our journey to the north-east, through a country that was anything but promising. Although we were traversing plains, our view was limited by acacias and other trees growing upon them. Notwithstanding that we kept close in to the ranges, the water-courses we crossed could hardly be recognised as such, as they scarcely reached to a greater distance than a mile and a half on the plains, before they spread out and terminated. As we advanced the brush became thicker, nor was there anything to cheer us onwards. In the afternoon therefore I turned towards the hills, and ascended one of them, to ascertain if there was any new object in sight, but here again disappointment awaited us.

The hills were more detached than in other places, and much lower. The brush swept over them, and we could see it stretching to the horizon on the distant plains between them. Excepting where the nearer hills rose above it, that horizon was unbroken; nor were the hills, although detached groups still existed to the north-east, distinguishable from the dark plains round them, as the brush extended over all, and the same sombre hue pervaded everything. I should still, however, have persevered in exploring that hopeless region; but my mind had for the last day or two been anxiously drawn to the state of the camp, and the straits to which I felt assured it would have been put, if Mr. Poole had not succeeded in finding water in greater quantity than that on which the people depended when Mr. Browne and I left them. Having been twelve days absent, I felt convinced that the water in the creek had dried up, and thought it more than probable that Mr. Poole had been forced to move from his position. Under such circumstances, I abandoned, for the time, any further examination of the north-east interior, and turning round to the south-west, passed up a flat rather than a valley between the hills, and halted on it at half-past 6 p.m. On the 23rd, we continued on a south-west course, and gradually ascended the more elevated part of the range; at 2 p.m. reached the water-hole we discovered the day we crossed the hills to the little peaks. Our journey back to the camp was only remarkable for the heat to which we were exposed. We reached it on the 24th of the month, and were really glad to get under shelter of the tents. All the water in the different creeks we passed in going out, had sunk many inches, and as I had feared, that at the camp had entirely vanished, and Mr. Poole having been obliged to dig a hole in the middle of the creek, was obtaining a precarious supply for the men, the cattle being driven to a neighbouring pond, which they had all but exhausted.

As the reader will naturally conclude, I was far from satisfied with the result of this last excursion. It had indeed determined the cessation of high land to the north and north-east; for although I had not reached the termination of the ranges in the latter direction, no doubt rested on my mind but that they gradually fell to a level with the plains. We had penetrated to lat. 28 degrees 43 minutes S., and to long. 141 degrees 4 minutes 30 seconds; but had found a country worse than that over which we had already passed--a country, in truth, that under existing circumstances was perfectly impracticable. Yet from appearances I could not but think that an inland sea existed not far from the point we had gained. As I have already observed, the fall of all the creeks from Flood's Creek had been to the eastward, and from what we could judge at our extreme north, the dip of the country was also to the eastward. I thought it more than probable, therefore, that we were still in the valley of the Darling, and that if we could have persevered in a northerly course, we should have crossed to the opposite fall of waters, and to a decided change of country.

We had hitherto made but few additions to our collections. A new hawk and a few parrots were all the birds we shot; and if I except another new and beautiful species of Grevillia, we added nothing to our botanical collections. The geological formation was such as I have already described--a compact quartz of a dirty white. Of this adamantine rock all the hills were now composed.

A remarkable feature in the geology of the hills we had recently visited was, as I have remarked, that they were covered with the same productions and the same stones as the plains below, of which they seemed to have formed a part. Milky quartz was scattered over them, although no similar formation was visible; of manganese, basalt, and ironstone, with other substances, there were now no indications. None of these fragments had been rounded by attrition, but still retained their sharp edges and seemed to be little changed by time.

Mr. Poole informed me, that the day he returned to the party he proceeded towards the little range I had directed him to examine; in which, I should observe, both he and Mr. Browne thought there might be water, as they had passed to the westward of it, on their last journey towards the hills, and had then noticed it. Mr. Poole stated, that on approaching the range he arrived at a line of gumtrees, under which there was a long deep sheet of water; that crossing at the head of this, he entered a rocky glen, where there were successive pools in stony basins, in which he considered there was an inexhaustible supply of water for us; but that although the water near the camp had dried up, he had been unwilling to move until my return. The reader may well imagine the satisfaction this news gave me; for had my officer not been so fortunate, our retreat upon the Darling would have been inevitable, whatever difficulties might have attended such a movement--for we were in some measure cut off from it, or should only have made the retreat at an irreparable sacrifice of animals. Mr. Poole had also been down the creek whereon the camp was posted, and had found that it overflowed a large plain, but failing to recover the channel, he supposed it had there terminated. He met a large tribe of natives, amounting in all to forty or more, who appeared to be changing their place of abode. They were very quiet and inoffensive, and seemed rather to avoid than to court any intercourse with the party.

Foulkes, one of the bullock drivers, had had a sharp attack of illness, but was in some degree recovered. In all other respects everything was regular, and the stock at hand in the event of their being wanted.

I was exceedingly glad to find that the natives had not shewn any unfriendly disposition towards Mr. Poole and his men; but I subsequently learnt from him a circumstance that will in some measure account for their friendly demonstrations. It would appear that Sullivan and Turpin when out one day, during my absence, after the cattle, saw a native and his lubra crossing the plains to the eastward, with some stones for grinding their grass seed, it being their harvest time. Sullivan went after them; but they were exceedingly alarmed, and as he approached the woman set fire to the grass; but on seeing him bound over the flaming tussocks, they threw themselves on the ground, and as the lad saw their terror he left them and returned to his companion. No sooner, however, had these poor creatures escaped one dreaded object than they encountered another, in the shape of Mack, who was on horseback. As soon as they saw him they took to their heels; but putting his horse into a canter, he was up with them before they were aware of it; on this they threw down their stones, bags, net, and fire-stick, and scrambled up into a tree. The fire-stick set the grass on fire, and all their valuables would have been consumed, if Mack had not very properly dismounted and extinguished the flames, and put the net and bags in a place of safety. He could not, however, persuade either of the natives to descend, and therefore rode away. Mack happened to be with Mr. Poole at the time he met the tribe, and was recognised by the man and woman, who offered both him and Mr. Poole some of their cakes. Had the behaviour of my men been different, they would most likely have suffered for it; but I was exceedingly pleased at their strict compliance with my orders in this respect, and did not fail to express my satisfaction, and to point out the beneficial consequences of such conduct.

Mr. Poole having thus communicated with the natives, I was anxious to profit by it, and if possible to establish a friendly intercourse; the day after my arrival at the camp, therefore, I went down the creek with Mack in the hope of seeing them. I took a horse loaded with sugar and presents, and had every anticipation of success; but we were disappointed, since the whole tribe had crossed the plains, on the hard surface of which we lost their tracks. On this ride I found a beautiful little kidney bean growing as a runner amongst the grass, on small patches of land subject to flood. It had a yellow blossom, and the seed was very small and difficult to collect, as it appeared to be immediately attacked by insects.

The fact of the natives having crossed the plain confirmed my impression that the creek picked up beyond it, and I determined on the first favourable opportunity to ascertain that fact. It now, however, only remained for me to place the camp in a more convenient position. To do this we moved on the 27th, and whilst Mr. Browne led the party across the plains, I rode on ahead with Mr. Poole to select the ground on which to pitch our tents. At the distance of seven miles we arrived at the entrance of the little rocky glen through which the creek passes, and at once found ourselves on the brink of a fine pond of water, shaded by trees and cliffs. The scenery was so different from any we had hitherto seen, that I was quite delighted, but the ground being sandy was unfit for us, we therefore turned down the creek towards the long sheet of water Mr. Poole had mentioned, and waited there until the drays arrived, when we pitched our tents close to it, little imagining that we were destined to remain at that lonely spot for six weary months. We were not then aware that our advance and our retreat were alike cut off.