We then pushed on through the forest, the ground beneath our horses' feet being destitute of vegetation, and the soil composed of a whitish clay, so peculiar to the flooded lands of the interior.

The farther we entered the depths of the forest, the more did the notes of birds assail our ears.

Cockatoos, parrots, calodera, pigeons, crows, etc., all made that solitude ring with their wild notes, and as (with the exception of the ducks on the southern side of the Stony Desert) we had not seen any of the feathered race for many days, we were now astonished at their numbers and variety.

About an hour before sunset we arrived on the banks of a large creek, with a bed of couch grass, but no water.

The appearance of this creek, however, was so promising that we momentarily expected to see a pond glittering before us, but rode on until sunset ere we arrived at a place which had attracted our attention as we approached it.