THE VICTORIAN NATURALIST. 73 



tinuous heavy rains at the mountain sources of the river and its 

 tributaries, and we have floods of more or less magnitude. 



During this particular trip the river, a little time before our visit, 

 had overflowed its banks between Tocumwall and Lake Moira, 

 sending a great sheet of water down the Edwards, with its net- 

 work of Riverina billabongs. The Murray continued to rise, 

 and on our arrival at Koondrook was swirling past in high flood. 



While staying over-night at the homely Coffee Palace of Mr. 

 B. Akers we made anxious inquiries as to the condition of the 

 country beyond, through which we had to travel, and were 

 informed that all rivers, creeks, billabongs, &c, were overflowing. 

 A traveller gave us a lively description of his experience while 

 crossing the Wymool. His horse, he says, " turned turtle," 

 broke the saddle girth, and he had to swim down stream after 

 the saddle, and so on. As this was one of the streams that we 

 had to cross, my companion and I exchanged glances and 

 wondered. 



By appointment we met Messrs. Neil and Roderick Macauley 

 at Koondrook, and found that they had had to abandon their 

 buggy at the Wakool River and swim the four horses over the 

 Wymool Creek. The horses they brought to Barham, opposite 

 Koondrook, riding bareback a distance of n miles. 



Early next morning we crossed the Murray with our luggage 

 and collecting material, and our friends soon drove up with a 

 buggy which had been kindly placed at our disposal by another 

 friend. We were not long in making a start, and were fortunate 

 in having the companionship of Mr. J. W. Chanter, who is Stock 

 Inspector for the Barham district, and who thoughtfully arranged 

 an official visit in the direction we purposed taking so as to pilot 

 us through the shallowest places. Splendid fun was soon the 

 order of the day — flood, flood, water, water, flop, flop — occurring, 

 however, so frequently that we soon became accustomed to it. 

 Our course is zig-zag, ever heading in a northerly direction. 

 The box timber is soon passed, and we skirt billabongs and ford 

 lagoons till we get into red-gum country, when we begin to feel 

 a little anxious. The bridge at Eagle Creek is soon crossed, but 

 its approaches are flooded. About four miles on we cross Barber's 

 Creek with a certain amount of delightful dread. We tilt our 

 legs into the air with graceful attitude so as not to get them wet, 

 but find the water only reaches the floor of the buggy. A little 

 further on we were just in time to catch a pretty scene — viz., a 

 small flock of sheep crossing the flood for high ground. Cow 

 Creek now came in sight, where we narrowly escaped a capsize. 

 The two horses suddenly flopped into a hollow, while our buggy 

 took an unpleasant cant, and we were nearly out ; however, wet 

 ankles is the only result. We are now driving on a dry pine 

 ridge, and we pull up at a selector's house. The good wife 

 informs us that her husband is waiting at the Wymool to cross us 



