CROSS THE FITZROY.
The timber was thin and light and, with a fine deep stream flowing through it, the tract which at first sight from Mount Eckersley I had considered so sterile and wet proved to be one likely at no distant day to smile under luxuriant crops of grain. We found the river (which I named the Fitzroy) fordable, although deep at the place where we first came upon it. Shady trees of the mimosa kind grew along the banks and the earth was now good and firm on both sides. We heard the natives as we approached this stream and cooeyed to them; but our calls had only the effect, as appeared from the retiring sound of their voices, of making them run faster away. Continuing our ride southward we entered at two miles beyond the Fitzroy a forest of the stringybark eucalyptus; and although the anthisterium still grew in hollows I saw swampy open flats before us which I endeavoured to avoid, sometimes by passing between them and finally by turning to a woody range on the left. I ascended this range as night came on, in hopes of finding grass for our horses; but there the mimosa and xanthorrhoea alone prevailed—the latter being a sure indication of sterility and scanty vegetation. We found naked ground higher up consisting of deep lagoons and swamps amongst which I was satisfied with my success in passing through in such a direction as enabled me to regain, in a dark and stormy night, the shelter of the woods on the side of the range. But I sought in vain for the grass, so abundant elsewhere on this day’s ride, and we were at length under the necessity of halting for the night where but little food could be found for our horses, and under lofty trees that creaked and groaned to the blast.