We stopped for a short
time to take out some of the pistols that were on the horse, and
that they might see us before we were so near as to frighten them.
Just after we stopped, the black got up to stretch his limbs, and
after a few seconds looked in our direction. It was very amusing to
see the way in which he stared, standing for some time as if he
thought he must be dreaming, and then, having signalled to the
others, they dropped on their haunches, and shuffled off in the
quietest manner possible. Near their fire was a fine hut, the best
I have ever seen, built on the same principle as those at Cooper's
Creek, but much larger and more complete: I should say a dozen
blacks might comfortably coil in it together. It is situated at the
end of the forest towards the north, and looks out on an extensive
marsh, which is at times flooded by the sea water. Hundreds of wild
geese, plover and pelicans, were enjoying themselves in the
watercourses on the marsh, all the water on which was too brackish
to be drinkable, except some holes that are filled by the stream
that flows through the forest. The neighbourhood of this encampment
is one of the prettiest we have seen during the journey.
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