most snatched them from our hands when we
offered them, and, without any gesture of thankfulness, hurried off to
where the woman and children were sitting.

"Arrah, Mr Pullingo, do you call that good manners?" exclaimed Paddy.
"However, it's the way of the country, I suppose; though I can't say
it's a good way. Just give the little ones their share, though, and
I'll not be after finding fault with you."

As we watched the natives, we observed that they at once tore the birds
to pieces, and before they themselves had eaten they gave each of the
children a joint.

"Come, I have hopes of you, since you look after the childher," cried
Paddy, when he saw this. "We shall find that Mr Pullingo is a decent
sort of fellow when he learns some more of our ways."

It appeared that Pullingo was as pleased with us as Paddy was with him,
for we saw him shortly afterwards employed, with his wife and son, in
building a hut, at a spot some way up the river, under the cliff. It
was not a very dignified structure: it consisted simply of a number of
long thin sticks stuck in a circle in the ground, their tops being bent
over and secured together by grass rope; the whole was then covered with
sheets of rough bark, fastened on by the same sort of rope. The first
hut was intended for Pullingo and his wife; they afterwards put up a
smaller one for their big son and the younger children.

These structures, rude as they were, were superior to those we
afterwards met with built by the natives, and showed us that Pullingo
was more advanced in civilisation than the generality of his countrymen.
Whether or not the rest of his tribe were in the neighbourhood, we
could not ascertain; at all events, it was satisfactory to have gained
his friendship, as he would give a favourable report of us to other
natives, and prevent them, we hoped, from molesting us.

I forgot to say that Tommy Peck, though a harum-scarum fellow, possessed
considerable artistic talent; superior, at all events, to any of the
rest of us. He used to amuse Edith by making drawings and figures in
her sketch-book--which had, with her small library, been brought on
shore--she herself being only able to draw landscapes.

"Shouldn't you like, Miss Edith, to have a portrait of Prince Pullingo
and his beautiful bride?" he asked. "I don't think I can do it from
memory, but perhaps I can get them to sit for their likeness."

"By all means," answered Edith; "though I very much doub