As The River Promised To Be One Of Some Importance I Called It The
"Isaacs," In Acknowledgment Of The Kind Support We Received From F.
Isaacs, Esq.
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. A great number of
natives, men, boys, and children, who had been attracted by the screams
of their companions, now came running towards us; but on our putting our
horses into a sharp canter, and riding towards them, they retired into
the scrub.
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