Our larder was well filled here, and the natives took great interest in our shooting and fishing.  I used to take Tiger as retriever when I went duck shooting, and an excellent boy he was too, simply loving the water, and able to swim like any duck; to see him after a wounded bird was most exciting; as soon as he reached it, it would dive until he would be almost exhausted.  At last he hit upon a similar plan, and, diving, came up beneath the duck, seized it by the leg and brought it to shore, grinning with delight.  A shot-gun would indeed be a treasure to these natives, who manage to kill pelicans and ducks only after hours of waiting, hidden in a hide of bushes until a bird comes near enough to be killed by a throwing-stick.

In some parts of Australia the natives swim out to ducks, concealing themselves under a bunch of rushes and moving very slowly; the ducks are not scared by the rushes, and fall a comparatively easy prey.  From what Tiger told me the Sturt natives seem to rely solely upon waiting and stalking.  They catch fish in a rather ingenious way, only practicable when the fish are in shallow water; from this they sweep them with a sort of dredge of branches, which they drag through the pools on to the banks; the water runs back through the sticks, leaving the fish high and dry on the sand.  The pelican is considered a great delicacy amongst the natives, and every day deputations waited upon us, asking us to shoot the “Coyas” for them, which of course we were very glad to do.  They did not repay our kindness very nicely, for they tried to inveigle Warri into their camp for the purpose of killing him, as a stranger meets with no great hospitality!  I had sent Warri and Tiger out with a gun to stalk some ducks when a number of blacks tried to get possession of the gun, first by telling Tiger that they wanted to shoot an old man who had annoyed them, then by tempting him with descriptions of the beauties of their wives; but Warri was proof against all these blandishments—­nor could they get the gun by force.  I think Master Warri was quite glad to come quickly home, for he stood in some awe of the Kimberley natives; “Sulky fella,” he called them.

One day a fresh mob of blacks came in; amongst them we recognised our old friends from Jew’s Well.  They as soon recognised us, and appeared tremendously pleased.  The old Jew patted me, and grinned, and squirmed in a most ludicrous way; I discovered that he was thanking me for having cured his son’s eyes—­so the lotion had done its work well.  As he and his friends sat round I made a sketch of the old man and gave it to him; it was evidently a good likeness, for his friends went into shrieks of laughter and delight.  He was equally pleased, and more so still when I let him know that he could keep it.