After the engagement we picked up a great number of spears and other weapons, where the hostile army had stood.  The spears were long, light, and barbed, and I could not help thinking how much more I liked them on my outside than my in.  I destroyed all the weapons I could lay hold of, much to the disgust of the remaining spy, who had kept quiet all through the fray.  He seems to be some relative of the little girl, for they always go about together; she may probably be his intended wife.  During the conflict, this little creature became almost frantic with excitement, and ran off to each man who was about to fire, especially Nicholls, the cook, with whom she seemed quite in love, patting him on the back, clapping her small hands, squeaking out her delight, and jumping about like a crow with a shirt on.  While the fight was in progress, in the forgetfulness of his excitation, my black boy Tommy began to speak apparently quite fluently in their language to the two spies, keeping up a running conversation with them nearly all the time.  It seemed that the celebrated saying of Talleyrand, “Language was only given to man to conceal his thought,” was thoroughly understood by my seemingly innocent and youthful Fowler’s Bay native.  When I taxed him with his extraordinary conduct, he told me the natives had tried to induce him to go with them to their camp, but his natural timidity had deterred him and saved his life; for they would certainly have killed him if he had gone.  After the attack, Tommy said, “I tole you black fellow coming,” though we did not recollect that he had done so.  The spy who had fastened on to me got away in an opposite direction to that taken by the defeated army.  The other spy and the girl remained some little time after the action, and no one saw them depart, although we became at last aware of their absence.  We kept watch during the night, as a precaution after such an attack, although I had not instituted watching previously.  There was a dead silence in the direction of the enemy’s encampment, and no sounds but those of our camel-bells disturbed the stillness of the luminous and lunar night.

On the following morning, at earliest dawn, the screams and howls of a number of the aborigines grated harshly upon our ears, and we expected and prepared for a fresh attack.  The cries continued for some time, but did not approach any nearer.  After breakfast, the little girl and her protector, the quietest of the two spies, made their appearance at the camp as composedly as though nothing disagreeable had occurred to mar our friendship, but my personal antagonist did not reappear—­he probably had a headache which kept him indoors.  I had given the girl a shirt when she first came to the camp, and Peter Nicholls had given her protector an old coat, which was rather an elongated affair; on their arrival this morning, these graceful garments had been exchanged, and the girl appeared in the coat, trailing two feet on the