The next day being Sunday, we had a day of
rest.
Near the place to which I had been dragged, there were several little
heaps of stones, or rather, as a general rule, small circles of
piled-up stones removed from where they had formerly lain, with the
exception of a solitary one left in the centre. For what purpose the
natives could have made or cleared these places I cannot tell; they
were reserved for some ceremonies, no doubt, like those at Gill's
Pinnacle. The last few days have been very cool, the thermometer
indicating one day only 78 degrees in the shade. On the 25th Gibson
took the shovel to open out the springs formerly mentioned; they lie
in the midst of several little clumps of young eucalyptus suckers, the
ground all round being a morass, in which a man might almost sink,
were it not for the thick growth of rushes. The water appears to flow
over several acres of ground, appearing and disappearing in places.
The moment a small space was cleared of the rushes, it became evident
that the water was perpetually flowing, and we stood on rushes over
our ankles in black soil. Gibson dug a small tank, and the water soon
cleared for itself a beautiful little crystal basin of the purest
liquid, much more delicious and wholesome than the half brackish water
in the bed of the creek.
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