g the river, quite hidden in the
long grass, it was late before they were found. Started at nine o'clock;
course about 70 degrees east of north, following the channel. I expect,
in two or three miles, to meet with the Roper. At three miles struck a
large sheet of deep clear water, on which were a number of natives, with
their lubras and children; they set up a fearful yelling and squalling,
and ran off as fast as they could. Rounded the large sheet of water and
proceeded along it. At a mile, three men were seen following; halted the
party, and went up to them. One was a very old man, one middle-aged, the
third a young, stout, well-made fellow; they seemed to be friendly. Tried
to make them understand by signs that I wished to get across the river;
they made signs, by pointing down the river, by placing both hands
together, having the fingers closed, which led me to think I could get
across further down. They made signs for us to be off, and that they were
going back again. I complied with their request, and after bidding each
other a friendly good-bye, we followed down the banks of the river, which
I now find is the Roper. At seven miles tried to cross it, but found it
to be impossible; it is now divided into a number of channels, very deep
and full of running water. Proceeded further, and tried it at several
places, but with the same result. At twelve miles, camped close to a
steep rocky hill on the north side of the river. Searched all round for a
crossing, but was unable to find one. To the eastward the country is all
on fire. The banks of the river are thickly lined with cabbage-trees,
also the cane, bamboo, and other shrubs. Two small turtle-shells were
picked up by the party at the native camp. The country is still of the
same fine description. We are now north of Mr. Gregory's tracks.
Latitude, 14 degrees 5 minutes. Wind variable.

Thursday, 26th June, Roper River. As I cannot find a crossing, I shall
have to return to my last camp and try to cross there. Arrived and
camped. Day again oppressively hot. Almost immediately on leaving our
camp this morning I observed native tracks on ours close to it. They must
have followed us up last night, although we saw nothing of them. They are
not to be trusted: they will pretend the greatest friendship one moment
and spear you the next. They have been following us to-day, but keeping
on the other side of the river and setting fire to the grass as they go
along. I wish it woul