108 FISHING GOSSIP. 
trees and creepers; and as for birds, especially in 
waders and waterfowl, the variety is inexhaustible. 
But it is the creel and not the game-bag that is 
now in question, and I am going forth for an after- 
noon’s fishing on the Clarence. One of my com- 
panions is, in Australian phrase, “a new chum,” the 
other a stately old aboriginal, rejoicing in the name 
of “Billy.” “New chum” landed at Sydney from - 
England but a month ago, and left it but five days 
since by a Grafton steamer. He thus knows no more 
of the country than he could learn in a forty miles’ 
ride to the scene of our fishing excursion. “Billy” 
knows every ford and pool of the river, on whose 
banks he has hunted and fished ever since the days 
when he was the acknowledged head of a strong 
tribe, and the most redoubtable warrior among the 
northern blacks. 
ScENE—Ovpen scrub, sloping down to the Clarence. 
TIME—3 p.m., in early Autumn. 
VETERAN, NEw CuuM, and BILty. 
New Chum. This is a noble river. Are we still 
upon the estuary ? 
Veteran. Oh, no. There lie 120 miles of river 
between us and the Heads, and 50, as near as I can 
guess, between these pools and the highest reach of 
the tide. But even here the river is, as you say, a 
noble one, and when flooded absolutely terrific. You 
