136 TROPIC DAYS 



so-called civilised peoples to blend in the individual, 

 Maria's demeanour called for no comment. It was not 

 her fault, but the flightiness and whimsicality of Nature 

 which had contrived to make her the belle of the camp . 

 And why not enjoy the obvious admiration of the 

 stalwart youths as well as the discomfort of the sisters 

 who had not an ounce of irresistible fascination of which 

 to boast. 



For some years the form of Maria had not waddled 

 across accustomed scenes. Quite unexpectedly it loomed 

 up as large and buoyant as ever. The light-hearted 

 denizens of the camp had arranged an evening's enter- 

 tainment. The fires burned low, the sea babbled, 

 making white-skirted frolic on the hard level sand, and 

 the piping voices of the honey-seeking flying foxes 

 among the tea-trees seemed to chide the parrots of the 

 day for having left so little refreshment in the blossoms. 

 Behind a screen of faded blankets the warriors of the 

 camp were adorning themselves with white clay and 

 feathers and long, shaggy beards of bark, while the 

 leader of the orchestra began to tune his boomerang 

 and fire-hardened sticks, and his attendants to squat 

 ready to drum on thighs and lap with hollowed hand in 

 time with his refrain and clicking music. The fires 

 flared up, and the band emerged with thumping step 

 and emphatic grunts to illustrate the ceremonious visit 

 of strangers to a camp at which the nature of the 

 reception was in doubt. One individual, in chalk for 

 the most part, advanced, half nervously, half anxiously, 

 to the musician, and modestly retired, and advanced 

 again and retired, until reassured, and then the crowd 

 came forward whirling and grunting, and, with high- 

 waving arms in unison and swaying bodies, gave token 

 of happiness. 



ACT II. The master of ceremonies carried to the 



