Beside him lay bow and arrows and spear, while an ugly knife was fastened to his girdle of rope.
Our heroes had been a good ten miles into the interior that day, and were now returning, Kep carrying specimens of flora and fauna, Stormalong with a wild pig slung over his back.
Fishing is so civil a pastime that they at once threw down their burdens and squatted near the fellow.
A more hideous savage Kep had not yet beheld. Tattooed all over the body, peleles in his ears, a ring of gold attached to one nostril, and the upper lip slit in two to show his terrible red-stained triangular teeth.
One glance at that mouth, and his black hide spotted with red paint, proclaimed him a cannibal.
He clutched his bunch of poisoned arrows, and started to his feet.
"Sit down, my friend," said McTavish coolly. "I could lift you by the neck, man, and throw you across the boulders into the centre stream. Sit down, friend, and tell me all about yourself."
He had in his youth been kidnapped to Queensland and knew the white man's speech.
Strangely enough this fellow, like all who have come back from civilization to their native fastnesses, are the fiercest and most wily savages of all.
"What fob you callee me 'fliend'? I not lub de Engleese.
McTavish wore a plain grey kilt and badger-head sporran.
"By gum!" said Stormalong, laughing, "there is enough of you, sir, to make two women instead of one."
"You big bigee woman, and lub ebery man. Dat is how. But," he went on, "Fadder-landee[1] much more goodee as Bleetish man. Bleetish man wuff--wuff (rough and unkind), he call me, Gobolohlo, one dam niggah. All same Gobolohlo chief from far ober de mountain."
He struck his painted chest with his fist, to show that he was Gobolohlo, and that he wasn't to be scorned.
But McTavish appeased him with tobacco, which he began to tear and chew.
"Fadder-landee," he continued, "he come on soh (shore) in he boat. He seek for Gobolohlo in de fah inteliol (far interior). He touch Gobolohlo, he gibee me mooch dlink to dlink, mooch fine baccy, and so I lub he.
"Den he say to me, Gobolohlo, he say, 'Fadder-landee not make goodee meat. Engleese man mooch fine long-pig. Fadder-landee no goodee eat. Taste.' Den I take he hand and lick. Foo--foo. Bad, bad.[2] But, 'poh chief,' he tellee me now. You lookee pale. All you fightee men lookee sick. Go to de Bleetish side, and get flesh (fresh) air, you soon be bettah after dat.