From a tree at our camp a range was observed in the south-west, having become visible from refraction, and this rendered it still more probable that the river would continue its westerly course. I soon found it necessary however to travel south-west in order to avoid it, and having yesterday exceeded our usual distance I halted at the end of 8 1/4 miles; the river being then distant about two miles to the north. From a bare hill beyond this camp I could see nothing southward, except a perfectly level horizon of low bushes, the country being nevertheless full of hollows, in which grew trees of large dimensions. The river line was so sunk among these hollows that I could trace it for only a short distance, and there it bore about west-north-west. The banks of the river opposite to our camp of yesterday were of rather different character from those which we had seen above. The slopes towards the stream commenced some hundred yards from it, and they were grassy and gently inclined on each side, so that our carts might have passed easily. We saw enormous trees by the riverside, and the scenery was altogether fine. The stream glided along at the rate of two miles per hour over a rock of ferruginous sandstone containing nodules of ironstone.
DANCE OF NATIVES.
Nine natives approached the party while on the march this day; and they appeared very well disposed, frank and without fear. They carried no weapons. While we halted I perceived through my glass a party of about seventeen on a small eminence near the riverbank, and nine others, whom I supposed to be those who had been with us, joined them; upon which a large fire was made under some trees. Around this fire I distinctly saw them dance for nearly half an hour, their bodies being hideously painted white so as to resemble skeletons. The weather was very cold and it seemed as if this dance amongst the burning grass was partly for the purpose of warming themselves. I am rather inclined to suppose however, considering the circumstances under which the tribe higher up danced, that it was connected with some dark superstition, resorted to perhaps, in the present instance, either to allay fear or to inspire courage. I saw several gins carrying children in cloaks on their backs, some of whom and several of the children also danced. Our watering party was directed towards another portion of the river to avoid collision, if possible; and these natives at last decamped along its bank in an opposite direction, or downwards.
July 7.
As the people were packing up their tents, the fire of the natives appeared again in the wood, about a mile off and near the edge of the plain. They soon after advanced towards our camp, and came up more frankly than any whom we had yet seen. Gins with children on their backs, and little boys, came also. The party sat down close to our tents and soon began to solicit by signs for a tomahawk. It was evident that they had heard of us, and of our customs in that respect. One man older than the rest, as appeared by his grey beard, was most importunate; and an old woman explained that it was very cold, and asked me for some warm clothing, much in the manner of a beggar. I was very sorry that we could not spare her anything save a sack and a ragged shirt. To the old man I gave a tomahawk, and to two others a spike-nail each; I presented also a tin jug to one, who took a great fancy to it. They seemed by their gestures and looks to inquire how we had got safely PAST ALL THE OTHER TRIBES; and they were very attentive to our men when yoking the bullocks, of which animals they did not appear to be much afraid. These natives retained all their front teeth and had no scarifications on their bodies, two most unfashionable peculiarities among the aborigines, and in which these differed from most others. They sent the gins and boys away, saying they went to drink at the river. We soon moved off, upon which they followed the others. The old man wore a band consisting of cord of about four-tenths of an inch in diameter, wound four or five times round his head. On examination we perceived that it was made of human hair. They had no weapons with them. These natives, as well as most others seen by us on the river, bore strong marks of the smallpox, or some such disease which appeared to have been very destructive among them. The marks appeared chiefly on the nose, and did not exactly resemble those of the smallpox with us, inasmuch as the deep scars and grooves left the original surface and skin in isolated specks on these people, whereas the effects of smallpox with us appear in little isolated hollows, no parts of the higher surface being detached like islands, as they appeared on the noses of these natives. This was what is termed, according to Souter, the confluent smallpox.
A LAKE.
We crossed some soft red sandhills and at 7 1/2 miles passed the bank of a beautiful piece of water on which were various kinds of waterfowl. This lake was brimful, a novel sight to us; the shining waters being spread into a horseshoe shape, and reflecting the images of enormous gumtrees on the banks. It extended also into several bays or sinuosities which gave the scenery a most refreshing aquatic character. The greatest breadth of this lake was about 200 yards. It seemed full of fishes, and it was probably of considerable depth, being free from weeds, and continuing so full and clear throughout summers which had drunk up all the minor streams. After crossing some soft ground, the Darling having been in sight on our right, we encamped on its banks near a small hill overlooking the river, and a little beyond the camp, in the direction of our line of route.
TOMBS OF A TRIBE.
On this hill were three large tombs of the natives, of an oval shape and about twelve feet in the greater axis. Each stood in the centre of an artificial hollow, the mound, or tomb in the middle, being about five feet high; and on each of them were piled numerous withered branches and limbs of trees, no inappropriate emblem of mortality. I could scarcely doubt that these tombs covered the remains of that portion of the tribe swept off by the fell disease which had left such marks on all who survived. There were no trees on this hill save one quite dead, which seemed to point, with its hoary arms, like a spectre to the tombs. A melancholy waste, where a level country and boundless woods extended beyond the reach of vision, was in perfect harmony with the dreary foreground of the scene. (See Plate 16.)