t all you can and keep what you get,' with them," said Smith,
as he watched the native enter his hut.

The water in the sauce pan at this moment gave indications of boiling,
and as we all felt hungry, we determined to have supper before
stretching our forms under the shelter of the cart. Our stock of coffee
was produced, the pork and bread unpacked, and while the convict busied
himself frying slices of the former, we soaked cakes of the latter in a
pan of water, and sliced a few potatoes to add a relish to our meal.

At length our supper was cooked; when seated within the light of the
blazing fire, we prepared to enjoy ourselves and perhaps emulate the
natives in their feasts.

"How do you like your coffee?" asked Smith, as I raised my tin pot to my
mouth.

Before I could reply, my attention was directed to a blaze that suddenly
enveloped one of the huts, and which threatened to extend to the others.
As the materials of which it was built were light and dry, but few
minutes' time would be necessary to consume it; so I started up,
intending to assist in extinguishing the flames.

"Let it burn," exclaimed Smith, leisurely sipping his coffee, and
watching the progress of the fire; and even the natives kept their
places, and appeared unmoved at the sight.

"There may be somebody in the hut," cried Fred, rising.

"Then let them get out the best way they can," answered Smith. "If these
dirty scamps can't assist a comrade, I don't see why we should bother
our heads."

We waited to hear no more, but rushed towards the flames; and our steps
were quickened by hearing what we thought was the cry of a child.

We seized the dry branches, of which the hut was built, and tore them
from their fastenings, scattering the leaves that formed the roof, and,
regardless of the heat, continued to work; the flames were too powerful
for us, and we were obliged to beat a retreat.

We were about to return to our supper, when we heard a shrill cry issue
from the hut--not aloud, prolonged sound, such as a man would utter when
in agony, but a sharp, short yell, like the wail of an infant.

"Smith," I shouted, turning to the convict, who was still eating his
supper, "there is a child burning to death."

"The deuce!" he cried, springing to his feet, and rushing quickly in the
direction of the fire. "Let us save the young 'un at any rate."

Upon the ground in front of the hut were half a dozen long,
sharp-pointed spears, belonging to the