f half an hour, we could distinguish
sharp, bead-like black eyes peering at us out of the mass, which had
now sunk into silence, but burst out again louder than ever, when
Lizzie made her appearance from one of the gunyahs--perhaps the
paternal roof, who knows?--where she had retired, swelling with
indignation, and as sulky as a whole team of mules. Finding that no
one took any notice of her, and half an hour's reflection having, I
suppose, convinced her, that if she wanted to make a display before her
relations, now was the time, her ladyship came slowly up to the circle,
and commenced an attack on poor Dunmore, as she knew him best. To
transcribe her words would be impossible, for she put in a native
sentence whenever she found herself at a loss for an English one, but
the burden of her plaint was this:--

"Plenty d--d fooly fellow, white fellow"--a string of Hinchinbrook
vernacular--"Baal you been shoot 'em like 'it dingo"--more
Hinchinbrook, but evidently, from the accompanying gestures, indicative
of intense disgust--"Baal mine take any more along of black fellow
camp"--half sobs--"Baal mine care suppose you fellow all go like 'it--"

And she summarily consigned us to the bottomless pit, as the only place
at all suited for such stupid idiots who could refrain from shooting
blacks when so grand an opportunity presented itself. Her eyes flashed
fire as she delivered herself of her woes, and at the concluding
sentence she stamped her little foot, and flinging a short waddy she
held, with remarkable dexterity and no mean force, into the midst of
the sable mass, she turned round to depart with the dignity of a
tragedy queen, when Dunmore jumped up, caught her, and holding her
wrist, walked off a little way from us.

"You like 'it one fine fellow red shirt, Lizzie? Mine give you one
with 'plenty long tail'. Baal any other gin along of camp have shirt
like 'it you; and when piccaninny sit down" (for there was a prospect
of her presenting Ferdinand with a little pledge of affection), "mine
give that fellow two budgeree flour-bag shirts, suppose only you good
fellow girl Lizzie."

Evidently, Dunmore knew the way to the young lady's heart--we nicknamed
him "Faust" afterwards--for at the mention of the red shirt, with the
lengthy tails, her eyes lost their fierceness, and the allusion to the
piccaninny completed his victory, and changing at once from one extreme
to the other, as only a black or a child can, Miss Lizz