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Monday, 13th August, The Stevenson. Started on a course of 135 degrees to see if the Stevenson comes from the south; continued on the table land, from where I left it yesterday for sixteen miles from last night's camp, when we suddenly dropped into the bed of a large broad sandy gum-creek, coming from the west, which I find to be the Ross. There are many rushes about it; it runs in three or four courses, in all of which water can be obtained by scratching in the sand. There are plenty of birds. It is evidently raining to the east of this. Camped. My course takes me across the middle of a range, which I shall endeavour to cross to-morrow. There are two small springs, but they are brackish. Wind, south.