As there was nothing very particular to do that afternoon, we watched the troopers spearing fish, in which they were most skilful.  There is in some of the Australian rivers a splendid fish, called the ‘Barrimundi’, which not only much resembles the salmon in appearance, but, like it, requires running water and access to the sea.  Many a time I have vainly tried to lure them from their watery depths, but no bait would tempt them that I could ever hit on, though I have little doubt that a fly or artificial minnow would prove killing.  We could see them in the Macalister, lying with their heads pointed up stream, and seemingly motionless but for the slight waving of the tail that retained them in their places.  Having cut several slender switches, not thicker than a tobacco-pipe stem, and sharpened one end with a knife, the trooper Ferdinand, who was by far the most expert among his brethren, grasped this apparently inoffensive little weapon between the thumb and middle finger, whilst the blunt end rested against the ball of the forefinger.  Stooping down, he approached to within four or five yards of the fish, which were only a few inches from the surface, and suddenly jerking his switch forward, it entered the water almost horizontally, and rarely failed to transfix a ‘Barri mundi’, which, darting forward, was soon hampered by the weapon catching in the weeds, and became the prey of its sharp-eyed captor, who had never lost sight of it in its endeavour to escape.  This fish is excellent eating, and averages from eight to thirty pounds in weight.

As Dunmore and I were strolling along a small lagoon overgrown with water-lilies, he pointed out to me a pretty graceful little bird, about the size of a jack-snipe, but with longer legs, and most extraordinary claws.  I am ashamed to say I shot this poor little fellow, to examine him, and found that each toe measured at least three inches from the leg to the extremity of the claw.  This is to enable the bird to run along safely over the floating leaves of the lotus, on which plant it seems to get its living.  I had never seen one before; and the simple manner in which Nature had adapted it to its peculiar line of life struck me as both curious and beautiful.  What this little bird’s scientific name is I never heard, but we colonists call it the “Lotus bird.”

As there was a remote chance of the party left with the boats coming in contact with the blacks, it was deemed advisable to leave them a trooper, who would more readily recognise their whereabouts than the white men; therefore a boy known by the not euphonious sobriquet of “Killjoy,” was selected to remain with the pilot and his two boatmen, and after dividing the big meat damper in five equal portions, the exploring party, consisting of Dunmore, Ferdinand, Larry, Lizzie and myself, struck out for the opening in the scrub on the Mackay river.  We descended into the sandy bed, and crossed to the opposite side, which was much