of Darling Downs.
When we were approaching the river, the well-known sound of a tomahawk was heard, and, guided by the noise, we soon came in sight of three black women, two of whom were busily occupied in digging for roots, whilst the other, perched on the top of a high flooded-gum tree, was chopping out either an opossum or a bees' nest.

They no sooner perceived us than they began to scream most dreadfully, swinging their sticks, and beating the trees, as if we were wild beasts, which they wished to frighten away.

We made every possible sign of peace, but in vain: the two root-diggers immediately ran off, and the lady in the tree refused to descend.

When I asked for water, in the language of the natives of the country we had left--"Yarrai" "yarrai," she pointed down the river, and answered "yarrai ya;" and we found afterwards that her information was correct.

Upon reaching the tree we found an infant swaddled in layers of tea-tree bark, lying on the ground; and three or four large yams.