Immediately after another stone
came, and up sat Cocky. This aroused Mr. Tietkens's curiosity, as he
didn't hear me speak to the dog, and he said, "Did you send Cocky a
telegram?" I said, "No." "Well then," said he, "somebody did twice:
did you, Jimmy?" "No." "Oh!" I exclaimed, "it's those blacks!" We
jumped up and looked at the low rocks behind us, where we saw about
half-a-dozen sidling slowly away behind them. Jimmy ran on top, but
they had all mysteriously disappeared. We kept a sharp look out after
this, and fired a rifle off two or three times, when we heard some
groans and yells in front of us up the creek gorge.
Having got some rock water at the Sugar-loaf or Stevenson's Peak in
coming out, we went there again. On the road, at nine miles, we
crossed another large wide creek running north. I called it the
Armstrong*; there was no water where we crossed it. At twenty miles I
found another fine little glen, with a large rock-hole, and water in
the sand of the creek-bed. I called this Wyselaski's* Glen, and the
creek the Hopkins. It was a very fine and pretty spot, and the grass
excellent. On reaching the Peak or Sugar-loaf, without troubling the
old rocky shelf, so difficult for horses to approach, and where there
was very little water, we found another spot, a kind of native well,
half a mile west of the gorge, and over a rise.
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