the same restlessness, again withdrew.  He returned the third time before morning dawned, but returned alone.  The men on the watch were very stupid not to have followed him, for, no doubt, he went to his companion, to whom, most likely, some accident had happened.  I tried to make him show, but could not succeed, and, after a long search, reluctantly pursued our journey, leaving poor Sailor to his fate.  This was the only misfortune that befell us, and we each of us felt the loss of an animal which had participated in all our dangers and privations.  I more especially regretted the circumstance for the sake of the gentleman who gave him to me, and, on account of his superior size and activity.

Encounter with natives.

With the loss of poor Sailor, our misfortunes re-commmenced.  I anticipated some trouble hereabouts, for, having succeeded in their hardihood once, I knew the natives would again attempt to rob us, and that we should have some difficulty in keeping them off.  As soon as they found out that we were in the river, they came to us, but left us at sunset.  This was on the 21st.  At nightfall, I desired the watch to keep a good look out, and M’Leay and I went to lie down.  We had chosen an elevated bank for our position, and immediately opposite to us there was a small space covered with reeds, under blue-gum trees.  About 11, Hopkinson came to the tent to say, that he was sure the blacks were approaching through the reeds.  M’Leay and I got up, and, standing on the bank, listened attentively.  All we heard was the bark of a native dog apparently, but this was, in fact, a deception on the part of the blacks.  We made no noise, in consequence of which they gradually approached, and two or three crept behind the trunk of a tree that had fallen.  As I thought they were near enough, George M’Leay, by my desire, fired a charge of small shot at them.  They instantly made a precipitate retreat; but, in order the more effectually to alarm them, Hopkinson fired a ball into the reeds, which we distinctly heard cutting its way through them.  All was quiet until about three o’clock, when a poor wretch who, most probably, had thrown himself on the ground when the shots were fired, at length mustered courage to get up and effect his escape.

In the morning, the tribe kept aloof, but endeavoured, by the most earnest entreaties, and most pitiable howling, to gain our favour; but I threatened to shoot any that approached, and they consequently kept at a respectful distance, dogging us from tree to tree.  It appeared, therefore, that they were determined to keep us in view, no doubt, with the intention of trying what they could do by a second attempt.  As they went along, their numbers increased, and towards evening, they amounted to a strong tribe.  Still they did not venture near us, and only now and then showed themselves.  Our situation at this moment would have been much more awkward in the event of attack, than when we were in the open channel of the Murray; because we were quite at the mercy of the natives if they had closed upon us, and, being directly under the banks, should have received every spear, while it would have been easy for them to have kept out of sight in assailing us.