Our journey up the Darling had been of greater length than I had anticipated, and it appeared to me that I could not do better than reduce the ration of flour at this early stage of the expedition to provide the more certainly for the future. I accordingly reduced it to eight pounds a week, still continuing to the men their full allowance of meat and other things.
Nadbuck had assured me on the 9th that if the bullocks did not put out their tongues we should get to Laidley's Ponds that day, but I hardly anticipated it myself, although I was aware we could not be many miles from them.
We had a great many natives in the neighbourhood at our encampment of the 8th, but they did not approach the tents. Their families generally were on the opposite side of the river, but one man had his lubra and two children on our side of it. My attention was drawn to him, from his perseverance in cutting a bark canoe, at which he laboured for more than an hour without success. Mr. Browne walked with me to the tree at which he was working, and I found that his only tool was a stone tomahawk, and that with such an implement he would hardly finish his work before dark. I therefore sent for an iron tomahawk, which I gave to him, and with which he soon had the bark cut and detached. He then prepared it for launching by puddling up its ends, and putting it into the water, placed his lubra and an infant child in it, and giving her a rude spear as a paddle pushed her away from the bank. She was immediately followed by a little urchin who was sitting on the bank, the canoe being too fragile to receive him; but he evidently doubted his ability to gain the opposite bank of the river, and it was most interesting to mark the anxiety of both parents as the little fellow struck across the foaming current. The mother kept close beside him in the canoe, and the father stood on the bank encouraging his little son. At length they all landed in safety, when the native came to return the tomahawk, which he understood to have been only lent to him. However I was too much pleased with the scene I had witnessed to deprive him of it, nor did I ever see a man more delighted than he was when he found that the tomahawk, the value and superiority of which he had so lately proved was indeed his own. He thanked me for it, he eyed it with infinite satisfaction, and then turning round plunged into the stream and joined his family on the opposite bank.
We journeyed as usual over the river flats, and occasionally crossed narrow sandy parts projecting into them. From one of these Mr. Poole was the first to catch a glimpse of the hills for which we had been looking out so long and anxiously. They apparently formed part of a low range, and bore N.N.W. from him, but his view was very indistinct, and a small cone was the only marked object he could distinguish. He observed a line of gum-trees extending to the westward, and a solitary signal fire bore due west from him, and threw up a dark column of smoke high into the sky above that depressed interior. A meridian altitude placed us in latitude 32 degrees 33 minutes 0 seconds S., from which it appeared that we were not more than eight or ten miles from Laidley's Ponds, but we halted short of them, and received visits from a great many of the natives during the afternoon, who came to us with their families, a circumstance which led me to hope that we should get on very well with them. Poor Toonda here heard of the death of some relative during his absence, and had a great cry over it. He and the native who communicated the news sat down opposite to one another with crossed legs, and their hands on each other's shoulders. They then inclined their heads forward, so as to rest on each other's breasts and wept violently. This overflow of grief, however, did not last long, and Toonda shortly afterwards came to me for some flour for his friend, who he said was very hungry.
As it appeared to me that we should have to remain for some time in the neighbourhood of Laidley's Ponds, I had directed my inquiries to the state of the country near them, and learnt both from Nadbuck and Toonda, that we should find an abundance of grass for the cattle. I was not however very well satisfied with the change that had taken place within a few miles, in the appearance of the river, and the size of the flats, these latter having greatly diminished, and become less verdant. On the 10th we started on a west course, but at about a mile changed it for a due north one, which we kept for about five miles over plains rather more than usually elevated above the river flats. From these plains the range was distinctly visible, now bearing N. 10 degrees E., and N. 26 degrees and 38 degrees W., distant 35 miles. It still appeared low, nor could we make out its character; three cones marked its southern extremity, and I concluded that it was a part of Scrope's Range. With the exception of these hills there were none other visible from Laidley's Ponds.
The ground whereon we now travelled was hard and firm, so that we progressed rapidly, and at five miles descended into a bare flat of whitish clay, on which a few bushes of polygonum were alone growing under box-trees. At about two hundred yards we were stopped by a watercourse, into which the floods of the Darling were flowing with great velocity. It was about fifty yards broad, had low muddy banks, and was decidedly the poorest spot we had seen of the kind. This, Nadbuck informed me, was the Williorara or Laidley's Ponds, a piece of intelligence at which I was utterly confounded. I could not but reproach both him and Toonda for having so deceived me; but the latter said he had been away a long time and that there was plenty of grass when he left. Nadbuck, on the other hand, said he derived his information from others, and only told me what they told him. Be that as it may, it was impossible for me to remain in such a place, and I therefore turned back towards the Darling, and pitched my tents at its junction with the Williorara.
For three or four days prior to our arrival at Laidley's Ponds, the upward course of the river had been somewhat to the west of north. The course of Laidley's Ponds was exceedingly tortuous, but almost due west. The natives explained to us that it served as a channel of communication between two lakes that were on either side of it, called Minandichi and Cawndilla. They stated that the former extended between the Darling and the ranges, but that Cawndilla was to the westward at the termination of Laidley's Ponds, by means of which it is filled with water every time the Darling rose; but they assured me that the waters had not yet reached the lake. It was nevertheless evident that we were in an angle, and our position was anything but a favourable one. From the point where we had now arrived the upward course of the Darling for 300 miles is to the N.E., that which I was anxious to take, was to the W.N.W. It was evident, therefore, that until every attempt to penetrate the interior in that direction had proved impracticable, I should not have been justified in pushing farther up the river. My hopes of finding the Williorara a mountain stream had been wholly disappointed, and the intelligence both Mr. Eyre and I had received of it from the Murray natives had turned out to be false, for instead of finding it a medium by which to gain the hills, I now ascertained that it had not a course of more than nine or ten miles, and that it stood directly in my way. We were as yet ignorant what the conduct of the natives towards us would be, having seen none or very few who could have taken part in the dispute between Sir Thomas Mitchell and the Williorara tribe in 1836. Expecting that they might be hostilely disposed towards us, I hesitated leaving the camp, lest any rupture should take place between my men and the natives during my absence; much less could I think of fortifying the party in a position from which, in the event of an attack, they would find it difficult to retreat. I thought it best therefore to move the camp to a more distant situation with as little delay as possible, and send Mr. Poole to visit the ranges, and ascertain from their summit the probable character of the N.W. interior.
Having come to this decision, I procured a guide to accompany that officer to the hills, who accordingly started for them, with Mr. Stuart, my draftsman, the morning after our arrival at the ponds. Some of the natives had informed us that there was plenty of feed at the head of Cawndilla Lake, a distance of seven or eight miles to the W.S.W.; but we could not understand from them how far the waters of the Darling had passed up the creek, although it was clear from what they said that they had not yet reached Cawndilla. My instructions to Mr. Poole were framed with a view to our removal from our present position nearer to the ranges, and I therefore told him to cross the creek at the head of the water, and if he should find grass there, to return to the camp, if not, to continue his journey to the hills, and use every effort to find water and feed. We had had a good deal of rain during the night of the 10th; the morning of the 11th was hazy, with the wind at S.W., and there appeared to be every prospect of continued wet. Under less urgent circumstances, therefore, I should have detained Mr. Poole until the weather cleared, but our movements at this time were involved in too much uncertainty to admit of delay. I had hoped that the morning would have cleared, but a light rain set in and continued for several days.
We had seen fewer natives on the line of the Darling than we had expected; but as we approached Williorara they were in greater numbers. Our tents were hardly pitched at that place, when, as I have observed, we were visited by the local tribe, with their women and children, who sat down at some little distance from the drays, and contented themselves with watching our motions. I had tea made for the ladies, of which they seemed to approve highly, and gave the youngsters two or three lumps of sugar a-piece. The circumstance of the women and children thus venturing to us, satisfied me that no present hostile movement was contemplated by the men; but, not-withstanding that there was a seeming friendly feeling towards us, there was a suspicious manner about them, which placed me doubly on my guard, and caused me to doubt the issue of our protracted sojourn in the neighbourhood.
I had several of the natives in my tent, and with Mr. Browne's assistance questioned them closely as to the character of the country to the north west, but we could gather nothing from what they said. They spoke of it in terror, as a region into which they did not dare to venture, and gave me dreadful accounts of the rocks and difficulties against which I should have to contend. They agreed, however, in saying that there was both water and grass at the lake; in consequence, I sent Mr. Browne with Nadbuck to examine the locality on the morning of the 12th, as the distance was not greater than from six to seven miles. He returned about one P. M., and informed me that there was plenty of feed for the cattle, and water also; but that the water was at least a mile and a half from the grass, which was growing in tufts round the edge of the lake. It appeared that the Williorara made a circuitous and extensive sweep and entered Cawndilla on the opposite side to that of the river, so that he had to cross a portion of the lake, and thus found that the floods had not reached it. Mr. Browne also stated that the extent of the lake was equal to that of Lake Victoria, but that it could at no time be more than eighteen inches deep. It was indeed nothing more than a shallow basin filled by river floods, and retaining them for a short time only. Immense numbers of fish, however, pass into these temporary reservoirs, which may thus be considered as a providential provision for the natives, whose food changes with the season. At this period they subsisted on the barilla root, a species of rush which they pound and make into cakes, and some other vegetables; their greatest delicacy being the large caterpillar (laabka), producing the gum-tree moth, an insect they procure out of the ground at the foot of those trees, with long twigs like osiers, having a small hook at the end. The twigs are sometimes from eight to ten feet long, so deep do these insects bury themselves in the ground.