The tea, sugar, and biscuit, having got wet in the sunken boat, I was compelled to halt this day in order to dry these articles if possible, in the sun, and the heat being very intense, we were tolerably successful. The sugar, in a liquid state, was laid out in small quantities on tarpaulins; the tea was also spread out thinly before the sun, and thrown about frequently--and thus we were enabled, by the evening, to pack it up quite dry in canisters; the whole having lost in weight two and a half pounds. The sugar had crystallised sufficiently to be put up again, without any danger of fermentation. During many days I had anxiously watched the smoky red hot sky for some appearance of rain: no dew nourished the grass, which had become quite yellow, and the river upon which I set my hopes was rapidly drying up. In my tent the thermometer generally reached 100 degrees of Fahrenheit during the day. At length the welcome sound of thunder was heard, and dark clouds cooled the atmosphere long before sunset. These clouds at length poured a heavy shower on the yawning earth; flakes of ice or hail accompanied it, and we enjoyed a cool draught of iced water, where the air had just before been nearly as warm as the blood.
In emptying the water out of the sunken boat we found a crayfish resembling those which I had seen in the freshwater lagoons about Lake George; the remains of this crustacean were also abundant there, at places where water had been but very temporarily lodged.*
(Footnote. A species of Astacus, which, as far as I am aware, comes very close to the common European crayfish.)
PACK UP THE BOATS, AND CONTINUE THE JOURNEY.
We dismantled our boats, packing up the canvas, and in the hollow of a large tree I buried my collection of geological specimens, that we might be loaded as lightly as possible.
December 31.
Quitting this spot at seven A.M. we continued on a bearing of 20 degrees west of north, and passed through a scrub of Acacia pendula, in which grew some eucalypti. At two and three-quarter miles we entered on a spacious open plain which appeared to extend westward to the river, a distance of about two miles. We crossed the more elevated and eastern part of this plain. We next entered a scrub of Acacia pendula, which at seven miles opened into a forest of apple-trees and other eucalypti. We soon after reached Maule's creek, the passage of which, on account of its steep banks, cost us an hour and a half. This induced me to encamp there, influenced also by the apprehension of a want of water, at any convenient distance beyond it. On first approaching water I had frequently an opportunity of observing that the worst characters have the least control over their appetites, in cases of extreme privation. It was a standing order, which I insisted on being observed, that no man should quit the line of route to drink without my permission. There was one, notwithstanding, who never could, in cases of extremity, resist the temptation of water, and who would rush to it, regardless of consequences. Now this man continued to be an irreclaimable character, and in six years after he had lost all the advantages he gained by his services on this occasion. The morning had been calm and very hot, but at three P.M. the sun was obscured, to our inexpressible relief, and clouds full of thunder at length overcast the whole sky; only a few drops of rain fell about six P.M.; and at ten the heavens became clear, the air however was cool and refreshing.
PASS THE WESTERN EXTREMITY OF NUNDEWAR RANGE.
January 1, 1832.
We proceeded on the same bearing, travelling over a very level surface. As we approached the western extremity of the great range, we touched on an open plain, whereof the soil was very rich. The greater portion of it lay on the left, or westward of our route, or towards the river. After crossing it we again entered a thin scrub of Acacia pendula, which having been recently burnt was open and favourable for passing through. We afterwards crossed a succession of gentle undulations, and through an opening, along the bottom of one valley, I obtained a view over the flat country to the westward. The most remarkable feature was a naked ridge of yellowish rock which rose abruptly from the woody country, as if it overhung the river. I wished much to examine that singular mass, but we were proceeding with little prospect of finding water, and we had impassable scrubs before us, as well as rocky hills on our right. A valley at length appeared in our route, and in which from the nature of the mountains at its head, I hoped to find water. In this I was however disappointed, for the channel, although of considerable depth, was quite dry, and I in vain searched its bed for at least a mile upwards. At ten miles the most western head of the range of Nundewar bore north, its low western extremity being distant only about a quarter of a mile. We were about to cross some offsets from the range, when a thick scrub or brush obstructed our further progress in that direction. I entered it and penetrated about a mile and a half without discovering any indication of water, or any opening through which the carts might pass. The weather was extremely warm, and as we had come a long journey, I determined to encamp once more on the Namoi; and turning westward I followed a line of flats and hollows, which led me to the nearest bend of that river. We calculated we had travelled twenty-one miles, although the distance by latitude and angles taken on the hills is less. Thermometer 97 degrees in the shade. Where we encamped the river was shallow, with many dead trees in the channel; but a little lower down it formed a deep, broad, and extensive reach. The latitude as ascertained by the stars Aldebaran and Rigel was 30 degrees 24 minutes 44 seconds South.