reating my father not to remain.

The crew quickly unloaded the boats, and piled up their cargoes, with
the other things before landed, in the centre of the camp.

I observed that Paddy Doyle, instead of working with us, was employed in
watching the natives; though he pretended all the time not to be taking
any notice of them, but to be amusing himself by playing a number of
strange antics calculated to excite their curiosity. This, after a
time, he succeeded in doing. The man, having directed his companions to
retire to a distance,--for the purpose, as we supposed, of placing them
out of danger,--advanced several paces nearer, and stood regarding us
with fixed attention. Though he was no beauty according to our notions,
he was, as he stood motionless as a statue, with his bundle of five
lances, their sharp points polished and serrated, in his left hand,
really a fine-looking savage. Stuck in his bushy hair, and fixed in his
ear, he wore a heron's feather; and round his waist was a broad belt
which served to keep up his very tight kilt, composed of opossum skins.
In this belt was stuck a knife or dagger of bone or stone; while at his
back was slung a small stone axe. His right hand was, however, kept in
readiness at any moment to hurl one of his lances at us. His figure was
tall; and his limbs, though covered with dirt, remarkably clean, as far
as form was concerned--showing that he was capable of great activity.

Paddy now pretended to have discovered him for the first time, and
advancing a few paces, took off his hat and made him a profound bow.
Though in all likelihood the savage had never before been so saluted, he
seemed to understand that the white stranger wished to become better
acquainted with him, and pointing to himself, he uttered the word
"Pullingo."

"The top of the morning to ye, Mr Pullingo! I'm after hoping you're
pretty well. And how's Mistress Pullingo, and Master Pullingo, and any
other pledges of mutual affection you happen to possess?" cried Paddy.

The savage uttered some words in a not unmusical tone, but what they
were intended to express it was impossible to say, nor could we be
certain that he had mentioned his own name; but, as may be supposed,
Paddy at once dubbed him Pullingo, which cognomen he was likely to
retain ever afterwards.

"Exactly so," said Paddy, as if he had understood every word that had
been uttered. "And my name's Patrick Doyle, at your service; and it's
mysel