The horses were hobbled and grazing along the green border of the creek.

The buggy propped up, was covered with a tarpaulin.

The pack-bags had disgorged their contents.

A miscellaneous heap of camp properties lay on the ground.

And now, Cudgee's axe was at work again, stripping a section of bark from a gum tree, for what purpose Lady Bridget did not divine.
She walked down to the creek and stood among the rocks at its edge.