THE VICTORIAN NATURALIST. 71 



a rustling, cracking noise is heard in the scrub, and, on our 

 endeavouring to ascertain the cause, a good-sized wallaby is seen. 

 He peers through the dense scrub at us for a moment or two, and 

 then, either not caring for our company or having some con- 

 scientious scruples as to sitting for his portrait — though we make 

 no charge — he quickly bounds over a fallen log, and is soon lost 

 to view. Reaching the end of the track, and finding it undesirable 

 to break new ground, we decide on retracing our steps, and our 

 cameras are now unpacked, and we set to work— hard work it proves 

 to be — to select the most typical spots in the gully. Climbing 

 over fallen logs and scrambling through meshes of the wire 

 grass, planting our cameras where we can to obtain the choicest 

 views, we pass the afternoon, until, returning to the head of the 

 gully, we find the light has now gone so far as to render further 

 success, for this day at least, impossible ; so we returned to 

 " Hazeiglen," after a very enjoyable day's work. As we have 

 resolved to accept the offer of a "shake down " for the night from 

 Mrs. Hunnerup, we return for the portions of our baggage which 

 was left on the road, getting back about 7.30 p.m., to find our- 

 selves in a dilemma — how to replenish our dark slides. 



Not having brought a dark, or rather safe, lamp with us, it is 

 useless expecting to find one up it in the mountain. After some 

 search a cart lamp is discovered in the cart shed containing a 

 piece of candle, and inquiry is set on foot for a piece of red cloth 

 of some description. All that can be procured is a piece of old 

 bleached flannel, which may have been red at some time — 

 perhaps the only piece within five miles. Tying this over one 

 pane of the lamp we darken up the others and proceed to our 

 bedroom to operate. We managed after a fashion, but we fear 

 we are unable to patent the invention. If one of our party never 

 enjoyed a good night's sleep before, he deprived himself of the 

 opportunity of ever making the complaint in the future, for we 

 verily believe the cry of fire would not have called him from his 

 slumbers. 



Next morning after partaking of a hearty breakfast we started 

 afresh, and again reaching the end of Mr. Perrin's track, we 

 decide on exploring a bit on our own account. Following the 

 stream most affectionately for about one hour, during which we 

 suppose we travelled about one mile, we reach the junction of 

 Sassafras Creek with a creek flowing in from the north, which it 

 has been suggested should be called Perrin Creek (as it is 

 unnamed in the government maps) after our indefatigable 

 Conservator of Forests. At this junction it is the intention of 

 Mr. Perrin to erect a hut for the benefit of tourists and ladies. 

 Here a halt was made and lunch partaken of, and, as on the 

 previous day, the cameras are set up and work commenced. A 

 little below this point the fisherman's basket, before alluded to, 



