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I calculated that we were within eleven miles of Cookopie; a pond in our old track at which we had encamped on the 13th of April, and which bore south-east from this camp.

We at length encamped on a lagoon to which the natives led us, and which they named Cookopie. We were now in a land flowing with honey, for our friendly guides, with their new tomahawks, extracted it in abundance from the hollow branches of the trees, and it seemed that, in the proper season, they could find it almost everywhere.

This pond of Cookopie appeared to be near the head of a small run of water arising in hills behind Pagormungor, a trap hill distant only five or six miles along our route homeward. September 11. This morning Fahrenheit's thermometer stood at 23 degrees, and the pond was frozen three-quarters of an inch thick.

Cunningham. I was now about to follow the Bogan further up in order to make sure of water, and thus to leave our track, with the intention of falling into it again at Cogoorduroy or Cookopie Ponds. We had now passed the scene of Mr. Cunningham's distresses, and I judged that a man on horseback might travel safely along our old route with despatches.

Accompanied by four natives and a boy we continued our journey, and as my reckoning since I deviated from our old route had been by time only, I allowed a black named Old-Fashioned and the boy to guide us to Cookopie.

Cunningham had been killed by natives. Cookopie ponds. Goobang Creek. Character of the river Bogan. Native inhabitants on its banks. Their mode of fishing. Manners and customs. Prepare to quit the party. The boats. Plan of encampment. Mount Juson. Leave the party and mark a new line of ascent to Hervey's range. Get upon a road. Arrive at Buree. August 13.