At twenty miles we came to a small watercourse emanating from the eastern hills, which we had now reached, and soon after to a larger one which we traced up for five miles among the front hills, which were composed of limestone, but were then obliged to encamp without water.  Whilst rambling about after turning out the horses, I met with a party of native women and children, but could gain no information from them.  They would not permit me to come near them, and at last fairly ran away, leaving at their fire two young children who could not escape.  I then went to their camp and examined the bags and property which had been left, and amongst other things found two kangaroo skins full of water, each containing from six to eight quarts; it was quite muddy, and had evidently been taken from a puddle in the plains, and carried to the present encampment in the bed of the watercourse.  Having helped ourselves to some of the water, I tied a red pocket handkerchief round one of the children, as payment for it and returned to our own camp.

August 5.—­During the night I was taken very ill again, and felt quite weak when I arose this morning, but circumstances admitted of no delay, and I was obliged to go on with my exploration:  I continued to trace up the creek, which I found to be large and lined with gum-trees for many miles among rocky and precipitous hills, but altogether without water, and as I knew of none of this requisite, of a permanent character, behind me, I determined to retrace my steps again to Mount Deception range.  In doing so, I had to pass near the place from whence the natives had taken flight, and from curiosity called to see if the children had been taken away; to my surprise and regret I found them still remaining, they had been left by their unnatural or terrified parents without food, and exposed to the inclemency of a cold winter’s night; the fire had gone out, and the eldest of the children had scraped a hole among the ashes in which both were lying.  They were alarmed when they saw me, and would take nothing I offered them.  The child around whom I had tied the handkerchief, had managed to get it off and throw it to one side.  I now scarcely knew what to do, as I was fearful if I left them there, and the parents did not return, the poor little children might perish, and yet I was so far away from my own party, and in such difficult circumstances, that I knew not how I could take them with me.  Upon due reflection, and considering that I had not seen a single male native, it struck me that the women might have gone for the men and would probably return by the evening to see where their little ones were.

Under this impression, I put the handkerchief again round the eldest child, and tying it firmly, I left them; I had hopes too, that some of the natives were watching our movements from the hills, and in this case they would at once return, when they saw us fairly depart from the neighbourhood.