Jan. 7.—I travelled farther down the river, and again came, after a ride of three miles, into a well-watered country, but still occupied by scrub; in which the Capparis, with its large white sweet-scented blossoms, was very frequent; but its sepals, petals, and stamens dropped off at the slightest touch. Its fruit was like a small apple covered with warts, and its pungent seeds were imbedded in a yellow pulp, not at all disagreeable to eat. At last the scrub ceased, and, over an open rise on the right side of Comet Creek, a range of blue mountains was discovered by my companion, promising a continuation of good country. At this time a fine water-hole was at hand, and invited us to stop and make our luncheon on dried beef and a pot of tea. Whilst I was preparing the tea, Brown went to shoot pigeons; and, whilst thus employed, he was surprised by the cooee of a Blackfellow; and, on looking round, he saw one on the opposite bank of the creek making signs to him, as if to ask in what direction we were going. Brown pointed down the creek; the black then gave him to understand that he was going upward to join his wife. We started about half-an-hour afterwards, and met with him, about two miles up the creek, with his wife, his daughter, and his son. He was a fine old man, but he, as well as his family, were excessively frightened; they left all their things at the fire, as if offering them to us, but readily accepted two pigeons, which had been shot by Brown. We asked them for water (yarrai) which, according to what we could understand from their signs, was plentiful lower down the creek. In returning homewards we cut off considerable angles of the creek, and passed through a much finer and more open country. On its left bank we passed a scrub creek containing magnificent lagoons. At my arrival in the camp, I was informed that natives had been close at hand, although none had showed themselves.