We stopped on the 20th at the angle of a creek, in which there was some dry grass, in consequence of the animals being almost in a starving state, but even here they had but little to eat.
A violent thunder-storm passed over us in the afternoon, but it made no change in the temperature of the air.

The weather, although it had been hot and sultry, had fallen far short of the intense heat we experienced in crossing the marshes of the Macquarie, when it was such as to melt the sugar in the canisters, and to destroy all our dogs; and our nights were now become agreeably cool.
A PARTY OF NATIVES.
We still, however, continued to travel over a dead level, nor was a height or break visible from the loftiest trees we ascended.

A little before we stopped at the creek, we surprised a party of natives; old men, women, and children.

They were preparing dinners of fish in much larger quantities than they could have devoured--probably for a part of the tribe that were absent; but the moment they saw us they fled, and left every thing at our mercy.

On examining the fish, we found them totally different from any in the Macquarie, and took two of the most perfect to preserve.