“Let us hear the particulars; a story will suit me above all things at this time,” I said.

“There is not much of a story connected with the matter, and I’m a poor hand at a yarn, but such as it is you shall have.”

He touched a bell, and his attendant entered as promptly as though serving in a first class hotel, and had been trained to the business all his lifetime.

“Is the punch ready?” asked our host.

“Yes, sir.”

“Bring it in, then, and clear the table of dishes.”

A bowl holding about a gallon was placed upon the table, and the fumes of the Santa Cruz rum were grateful to our nostrils.  Mr. Brown rubbed his hands with glee, and was impatient to begin the attack.

“Give the men a stiff glass of grog all round, and when I want you I will ring,” said Mr. Wright to the servant.

The man bowed, and left the room to make the hearts of the laborers happy by announcing the gift.

Mr. Wright filled his glass and was about to commence his story, after wetting his lips with the punch, when Jackson suddenly entered the room.

“Well?” asked Mr. Wright, with some surprise.

“Kala and Iala have returned, and desire to see you immediately, sir.”

“What is the matter?” asked our host, with visible uneasiness.

“They have seen footprints in the bush, sir,” was the brief rejoinder.

“The devil they have.  Let them come in and report.”  And while Jackson was absent Mr. Wright remained in a thoughtful mood.

Jackson was absent about five minutes, when he returned, ushering in two natives of Australia, whose names were Kala and Iala.  They were bareheaded, and the water was running down their necks in miniature streams, while their long, straight hair hung over their shoulders and faces, almost concealing their deep-set, large, piercing eyes, which were fixed upon us in amazement.  Their legs and arms were bare, and did not look larger than those of a child, while their long, bony feet were entirely unprotected by shoes or sandals, yet they were so hardened that the tooth of a serpent would have broken in an attempt to bite through the skin.

“Well, Kala, what news?” asked Mr. Wright of the native who appeared to be the spokesman.  He spoke in the language of the Australians, but as the reader is not supposed to understand it I shall interpret it, as Mr. Wright did for us.

“We have been in the bush,” was the brief rejoinder.

“And what did you see?” was asked.

“We go many miles from here on the trail leading to the big village,” Kala said.

“Go on.”

“We see many tracks, and we followed them.”

“In which direction?” demanded Mr. Wright, eagerly.

“Come this way,” the native said.

“Did you see the people?” asked our host.

“How many?”

“Six,” Kala answered, holding up one of his fingers.