February 9.

I was awoke by the shouts of a numerous tribe of natives, and on going out of my tent I found that they covered the opposite bank to the water’s edge.  They stood on our empty carts in scores like so many sparrows, and on every old tree or stump likely to afford them a better view of my camp.  But I overlooked them completely, and as they became more and more vehement in their language and gestures the greater was our satisfaction in being on the right side of the river.  What they did say we could not guess; but by their loud clamour and gestures all the leading men seemed to be in a most violent passion.  One word only they knew of the language spoken by our stockmen, and that was budgery, or good; and this I concluded they had learnt at some interview with Dawkins, who used it ever and anon in addressing them.  They were handling everything attached to our empty carts, but some of our men went over to prevent any serious injury being done.  All the clamour seemed directed at me, and being apparently invited by signs to cross to them, I went to the water’s edge, curious to know their meaning.  They then assumed the attitudes of the corrobory dance, and pointed to the woods behind them.  “Come and be merry with us,” was thus plainly enough said, but as their dance is warlike and exciting, being practised by them most when tribes are about to fight, they must either have thought me very simple, or, as seems most likely, the invitation might be a kind of challenge, which perhaps even a hostile tribe dared not, in honour, decline, whatever the consequences might be.  These natives were the finest looking men of their race which I had seen.  The peculiar colour of their bodies, covered with pipe-clay, gave them an appearance of being dressed.  They were in number about 100, all men or boys, the strongest carrying spears.  None of the words of The Barber seemed at all intelligible to them, but on mentioning the Namoi they pointed to the south-west, which I knew was the direction in which that river was nearest to the camp.  I recognised the gigantic pipe-clayed man who had presented his spear at me when we first reached the Gwydir much higher up.  That he was the man I then met he clearly explained to me by assuming the same attitude and pointing eastward to the place.  A good deal of laughter (partly feigned I believe on both sides) seemed to soften the violence of their speech and action; but when I brought down a tomahawk, and was about to present it to the man whom I had formerly met, and who was the first to venture across, their voices arose with tenfold fury.  All directed my attention to a dirty-looking old man who accordingly waded through the water to me, and received my present.  Several other stout fellows soon surrounded us, and with the most overbearing kind of noise began to make free with my person and pockets.  I was about to draw a pistol and fire it in the air when White, mistaking my intention, observed that their vehemence