to which the river seems to tend. My horse being so lame
for the want of shoeing, I shall strike in for the river and follow it
for another two miles, as it seems to run so much to the westward. I have
resolved to use some of the horseshoes I have been saving to take me back
over the stony country of South Australia. To enable McGorrerey to get
them all shod on the front feet before Monday, I have camped. There is
still a slaty range on each side of the river, with quartz hills close
down to it; the timber the same as yesterday. The country has recently
all been burned; but, judging from the small patches that have escaped,
has been well grassed up to the pass of the hills. The valley and banks
of the creeks are of beautiful alluvial soil. One new feature seen to-day
is the growing of large clumps of bamboo on the banks of the river, from
fifty to sixty feet in height and about six inches in diameter at the
butt. I am now on one of the tributaries of the Adelaide River. There
must have been a dreadful fire here a few days ago; it has destroyed
everything before it, except the green trees, to the edge of the water.
Slight winds, variable. Latitude, 13 degrees 35 minutes 58 seconds.

Sunday, 13th July, The Mary, Adelaide River. Shoeing horses. Wind blowing
strong; variable from all points of the compass.

Monday, 14th July, The Mary, Adelaide River. One of the horses cannot be
found this morning, and he has been for some time very ill and weak, and
no appearance of getting better. It was my intention to have left him. We
have been all round the tracks forward and backward over the
feeding-ground and can see nothing of him. I am afraid he has gone off to
some place and died; I shall therefore waste no more time in looking for
him. If he is alive I may have a chance of recovering him on my return.
Late start, in consequence of so long looking for him. As I have now got
all the horses shod on the front feet, I shall proceed on a north-west
course through the stony rises, which are still quartz and slate,
splendidly grassed, with gums and other trees and bushes not too thick to
get through with ease. Crossed six small creeks, one with holes with
water in them; the third one, a large creek, which I crossed at nine
miles, I have named William Creek, after the second son of John Chambers,
Esquire, of Adelaide; all running at right angles to my course.
Immediately after crossing this last creek the country changed to
granite; the