‘December’ 18.—­The river was followed down to-day for 9 miles through a complete net-work of ana-branches, gullies, and vine scrubs to another branch, which may be called the true stream.  It was 30 yards wide, deep, and running strongly.  Here the party had to camp for about 3 hours, whilst the Brothers searched for a good crossing.  The cattle and pack-horses were crossed in safety, but some of the pack-bags got wetted in the passage.  They were travelled another mile over to a sandstone bar, crossing another deep sheet of water, that had been previously found.  This stream had been explored in search of a ford for four miles further up but without success.  It continued of the same width and appeared to do so much further.  This day, Sunday, was marked by the severest conflict the travellers had yet had with the natives, one which may well be degnified by the name of the “battle of the Mitchell.”  On arriving at the running stream before mentioned, whilst the cattle halted, the Brothers and Eulah, taking axes with them, to clear the scrub, went down to find a safe crossing.  At about a-mile-and-a-half they came on to a number of blacks fishing, these immediately crossed to the other side, but on their return, swam across again in numbers, armed with large bundles of spears and some nullahs and met them.  The horsemen seeing they were in for another row, now cantered forward towards the camp, determined this time to give their assailants a severe lesson.  This was interpreted into a flight by the savages, who set up a yell, and re-doubled their pursuit, sending in their spears thick and fast.  These now coming much too close to be pleasant (for some of them were thrown a hundred yards), the three turned suddenly on their pursuers, and galloping up to them, poured in a volley, the report of which brought down their companions from the camp, when the skirmish became general.  The natives at first stood up courageously, but either by accident or through fear, despair or stupidity, they got huddled in a heap, in, and at the margin of the water, when ten carbines poured volley after volley into them from all directions, killing and wounding with every shot with very little return, nearly all of their spears having been expended in the pursuit of the horsemen.  About thirty being killed, the Leader thought it prudent to hold his hand, and let the rest escape.  Many more must have been wounded and probably drowned, for fifty nine rounds were counted as discharged.  On the return of the party to the cattle an incident occurred which nearly cost one of them his life.  One of the routed natives, probably burning with revengeful and impotent hate, got into the water under the river bank, and waited for the returning party, and as they passed threw a spear at Scrutton, before any one was aware of his proximity.  The audacious savage had much better have left it alone, for he paid for his temerity with his life.  Although the travellers