I walked on ahead of the horses with the shovel, to a small gully
I saw with the glasses, having some few eucalypts growing in it. I
walked up it, to and over rocky ledges, down which at times, no doubt,
small leaping torrents roar. Very little of yesterday's rain had
fallen here; but most fortunately I found one small rock reservoir,
with just sufficient water for all the horses. There was none either
above or below in any other basin, and there were many better-looking
places, but all were dry. The water in this one must have stood for
some time, yesterday's rain not having affected it in the least. The
place at which I found the water was the most difficult for horses to
reach; it was almost impracticable. After finding this opportune
though awkwardly situated supply, I climbed to the summit of the
mount. On the top was a native fig-tree in full bearing; the fruit was
ripe and delicious. It is the size of an ordinary marble, yellow when
unripe, and gradually becoming red, then black: it is full of small
seeds. I was disturbed from my repast by seeing the horses, several
hundred feet below me, going away in the wrong direction. And I had to
descend before I had time to look around; but the casual glance I
obtained gave me the most gloomy and desolate view imaginable; one,
almost enough to daunt the explorer from penetrating any farther into
such a dreadful region.
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