the benefit; and a real benefit it was, for it saved him from the gallows. Having failed to obtain his liberty when his information was acted on, this noted criminal, in his desperation, succeeded in sawing the irons off his feet, and in this way made good his escape from incarceration. But the law has long arms, and the "Barber," being again clutched within their iron grasp, was condemned to suffer the last penalty, from which doom he was saved by the timely arrival of Mitchell's letter. The _terra incognita_ now was entered upon, and the first object that drew the attention of the explorers was the old stockyard of the bushranger, which, doubtless, was too near a neighbour of Brown's cattle station. About two miles distant the Pic of Tangulda rose to a conspicuous elevation. This was one of the landmarks of the prisoner's tale. The "Kindur" was to be reached by proceeding north-east, over a range of mountains which were visible from this position. Mitchell directed his march accordingly; but, after several days of distressing travel, found the mountains to be impracticable, and was compelled to return to his former camp. Now, for the first time, grave doubts began to fill his mind regarding the truth of the convict's story. No other course being open, he determined on launching a canvas boat and making an effort to sail down the Namoi, to see what fortune had in store for him. The attempt was scarcely well made when it had to be abandoned, on account of snags and shoals in the stream; but the change of position was sufficient to make it apparent that the mountain-chain which could not be crossed might now be turned. This achievement was next successfully accomplished, and Mitchell at length found himself on their northern flanks. These mountains bore the native name of "Nundawar," and, in respect of their outward appearance, had been described sufficiently well by the bushranger. But now came the crucial test of his truth or falsehood. According to the same story the "Kindur" was the first river to be reached beyond these mountains, and, one way or other, the question could not now have long to wait for an answer. A river of some kind was the very thing wanted by the explorers, for they had passed through a rugged and waterless country. Were they now, at last, to drop upon the "Kindur?" Such a discovery would have been doubly welcome, for it would have relieved them from present distress, and proved the goal of a journey which, it was hoped, would place the laurel crown on the brow of the Major and sound the trumpet of freedom to his fifteen convict attendants. The 9th of January arrived, and this day was destined to feast the eyes of the weary travellers with the sudden appearance of a noble river, broader and deeper than the Namoi, and one of which Australia might well be proud. Was this the "Kindur" at last? Not for a moment. It flowed in the wrong direction, and lost much of its