on the banks of the Castlereagh, to our arrival at the present camp, we never picked up a stone, or a pebble, in its bed.
In the hope that we should fall on some detached pond, we pursued our journey on the 29th. The Castlereagh gave singular proofs of its violence, as if its waters, confined in the valley, had a difficulty in escaping from it. We had not travelled two miles, when in crossing, as we imagined, one of its bights, we found ourselves checked by a broad river. A single glimpse of it was sufficient to tell us it was the Darling. At a distance of more than ninety miles nearer its source, this singular river still preserved its character, so strikingly, that it was impossible not to have recognised it in a moment. The same steep banks and lofty timber, the same deep reaches, alive with fish, were here visible as when we left it. A hope naturally arose to our minds, that if it was unchanged in other respects, it might have lost the saltness that rendered its waters unfit for use; but in this we were disappointed—even its waters continued the same. As it was impossible for us to cross the Darling, I determined on falling back upon our last encampment, which was at a most Convenient distance, and of concerting measures there for our future movements. Prior to doing so, however, I rode to the junction of the Castlereagh with the Darling, accompanied by Mr. Hume, a distance of about half a mile. Upon the point formed by the two streams, there were a number of huts, and on the opposite
bank of the Darling, about twenty natives had collected. We called out to them, but they would not join us.
At the junction, the Castlereagh, with whatever impetuosity it rushes from its confinement, makes not apparently the least impression on the Darling River. The latter seemed to loll on, totally heedless of such a tributary.
CHAPTER IV.
Perplexity—Trait of honesty in the natives—Excursion on horseback across the Darling—Forced to return—Desolating effects of the drought—Retreat towards the colony—Connection between the Macquarie and the Darling—Return up the banks of the Macquarie—Starving condition of the natives.
On our return to the party, we found them surrounded by the natives, who were looking with an eye of wonder on the cattle and horses. We pointed out to them the direction in which we were going, and invited them to visit us; and nothing appeared to astonish them so much as the management of the team by a single man. We got back to our position early, and again fixed ourselves upon it.
It now only remained for us to consider what we should do under circumstances of certainly more than ordinary perplexity. We had nothing to hope for from travelling in a southerly direction, while to the E. and N.E., the state of the country was worse than that by which we had penetrated to the Darling. It was evident, that the large creeks joining the Castlereagh in that direction were dry, since