ccident, or the cargo getting
loose during the day's journey, frequently caused the bullocks to upset
their loads and break the straps, and gave us great trouble even in
catching them again:--at night, too, if we gave them the slightest
chance, they would invariably stray back to the previous camp; and we had
frequently to wait until noon before Charley and Brown, who generally
performed the office of herdsman in turns, recovered the ramblers. The
consequences were that we could proceed only very slowly, and that, for
several months, we had to keep a careful watch upon them throughout the
night. The horses, with some few exceptions, caused us less trouble at
the commencement of our journey than afterwards, when our hobbles were
worn out and lost, and, with the exception of one or two which in turns
were tethered in the neighbourhood of the camp in order to prevent the
others from straying, they were necessarily allowed to feed at large. It
may readily be imagined that my anxiety to secure our horses was very
great, because the loss of them would have put an immediate stop to my
undertaking.--But I hasten to enter on the narrative of our journey.

CHAPTER I

LEAVE THE LAST STATION--FOSSIL REMAINS--DARLING DOWNS--ENTER THE
WILDERNESS--WATERLOO PLAINS--THE CONDAMINE--HEAVY RAINS--CHARLEY'S
MISCONDUCT--MURPHY AND CALEB LOST--KENT'S LAGOON--COAL--MURPHY AND CALEB
FOUND AGAIN.

It was at the end of September, 1844, when we completed the necessary
preparations for our journey, and left the station of Messrs. Campbell
and Stephens, moving slowly towards the farthest point on which the white
man has established himself. We passed the stations of Messrs. Hughs and
Isaacs and of Mr. Coxen, and arrived on the 30th September, at Jimba,
[It is almost always written Fimba, in the Journal; but I have corrected
it to Jimba.--(ED.)] where we were to bid farewell to civilization.

These stations are established on creeks which come down from the western
slopes of the Coast Range--here extending in a north and south
direction--and meander through plains of more or less extent to join the
Condamine River; which--also rising in the Coast Range, where the latter
expands into the table-land of New England--sweeps round to the
northward, and, flowing parallel to the Coast Range, receives the whole
drainage from the country to the westward of the range. The Condamine
forms, for a great distance, the separation of the sandstone co