What particularly attracted my attention in Nilgora’s looks were his tall powerful figure and his almost Roman nose, another proof to me that the natives here are mixed with the Papuans.
On the descent to Herbert Vale, Yokkai had the important task of carrying the skins in a bag. They had to be handled with great care, a fact that my black friend did not understand. Fortunately, he was afraid of the poison with which the skins were prepared, and this made him very circumspect.
In a cheerful frame of mind I proceeded down to the grassy plain. The dark claws of the boongary protruding out of the bag reminded me of what had been accomplished during the past few days, and besides it was a source of gratification to me that Yokkai did not, on a nearer acquaintance, disappoint the good hopes I had formed in regard to him on our first meeting. I felt that I could look the future cheerfully in the face, and I had reason to hope for good results so long as he was my companion. Yokkai was well acquainted with several of the most savage tribes in the neighbourhood, and with his help it would be more easy for me to secure companions on my expeditions. By reason of his naïveté and good humour, I might count on having in him a lively and entertaining companion. Nor was he so savage and greedy as the other blacks. A circumstance which made him particularly devoted to me was his decided eagerness to become a “white man.” His ambition was to eat the food of a white man, to smoke tobacco, to make damper, to shoot, to take care of horses, to wear clothes, and to talk English.
He told me a number of stories in regard to himself, and gave me much interesting information about the life and customs of the natives. Among other things, he said that he once had stolen from a white man, but it seems that in connection with that he acquired a great dread of the white men and their dangerous weapons. The whites were too angry, he said, and he assured me that he never more would gramma—that is, steal. Together with his comrades, he had ventured to go down to a farm near the coast, where he had been tempted by the sight of a wash-tub containing some clothes. On one of his shoulders he still bore the mark of a rifle ball, by which he had been greeted on his visit to the white man.
My plan now was to go to the table-land seventy miles to the west, where Mr. Scott, the owner of Herbert Vale, had his head station, the Valley of Lagoons. Up there it rains less in the rainy season than it does at Herbert Vale, and for this reason I decided to change my headquarters. When I came to the station, I met a white man who was going the same way as I, and we decided to travel together. Yokkai remained at Herbert Vale. The next day, January 30, we proceeded toward Sea-View Range, where we arrived the first afternoon. Here my companion wanted to encamp for the night.
I looked back upon the scrub-clad mountains on the other side of the valley. The air was clear, and the setting sun caused long shadows to fall in the mountain declivities. Far away, on the summit of a mountain, smoke was ascending. The blacks were burning the grass and were hunting the wallaby, free from every care and anxiety. The palms, the ferns, the rays of the sun glistening in the waterfalls, all this charming scenery I was now to abandon, and I was to live at a station with the white men on the prosy plains. No, this was not possible; I longed to get back to my black friends! When I saw the sun setting amid an effulgence of crimson, and thus indicating fine weather for the morrow, my mind was made up. I decided to wait for the rain as long as possible, and this year the rainy season set in unusually late.
I bade farewell to my travelling companion, and started back for Herbert Vale.
Early the next morning I went in search of Yokkai, whom I soon found. He and I started up the mountains to procure, if possible, more people to assist us.
In a small tribe which we came to, some of the natives were found willing to go with us, and soon afterwards we had the good fortune to meet Nilgora and “Balnglan.” We made our camp in the same place as before—on the old dancing-ground. Nilgora was now very accommodating. He had employed his time since we parted in eating tobola, and was now longing for the white man’s food, which he had learned to like when he was with me before. During the four days we spent here we succeeded in securing a small female boongary and a young one. Thus I now had in all five males and one female, though none of them were full grown. The female (represented on the coloured plate) had a little young one in her pouch, but the black had already given it to “Balnglan,” thinking it was worthless.
One day, when Yokkai and I were left alone in the camp, he suddenly broke out, “Poor fellow,—white-fellow!” Thinking that he referred to me, I, half angry, asked him what was the matter. “Poor fellow, white-fellow—Jimmy,” said he, beating the back of his head, “Jimmy, white-fellow ngallogo”—that is, “in the water.” I now understood that something was the matter, and on inquiry at last found out that the same Jimmy who had been with me before had killed a white man and thrown him into the water. The white man had been camping near a river in the middle of the day, “while the sun was big,” not far from Herbert Vale. Jimmy had gone to him and offered to find fuel and build a fire, services which were accepted. The white man made his tea and sat down to eat, but Jimmy did not get any of the food, and at once became angry, and struck the white man on the back of the head with his tomahawk as he brought his tin cup to his lips to drink, so that he fell down dead. Then Jimmy robbed all that the white man had and threw his body into the water.