the desert.

_Jan. 31._ We came upon a creek, but could not decide whether it was the
one for which we had been searching, or another. It had flooded-gum
growing upon its banks, and, on places apparently subject to flood, a
number of tall straight saplings were observed by us. We returned to the
camp, after a vain search for water, and were really at a loss what
direction next to pursue. The men kept the cattle pretty well together,
and, as we were not delayed by any preparations for breakfast, they were
saddled and loaded at an early hour. The circumstance of there having
been natives in the neighbourhood, of whom we had seen so few traces of
late, assured me that water was at hand, but in what direction it was
impossible to guess. As the path we had observed was leading northerly,
we took up that course, and had not proceeded more than a mile upon it,
when we suddenly found ourselves on the bank of a noble river. Such it
might in truth be called, where water was scarcely to be found. The
party drew up upon a bank that was from forty to forty-five feet above
the level of the stream. The channel of the river was from seventy to
eighty yards broad, and enclosed an unbroken sheet of water, evidently
very deep, and literally covered with pelicans and other wild fowl. Our
surprise and delight maybe better imagined than described. Our
difficulties seemed to be at an end, for here was a river that promised
to reward all our exertions, and which appeared every moment to increase
in importance, to our imagination. Coming from the N.E., and flowing to
the S.W., it had a capacity of channel that proved that we were as far
from its source as from its termination. The paths of the natives on
either side of it were like well-trodden roads; and the trees that
overhung it were of beautiful and gigantic growth.

Its banks were too precipitous to allow of our watering the cattle, but