IIO 
BLOOMFIELD RIVER 
CHAP. 
days. My laundry work, however, had all been to no 
purpose, for a little later I heard shouts of laughter 
coming from the natives, and I found them walking 
about in great pride in my dried garments, quite 
irrespective of fit or order. For a moment I felt very 
cross, but they looked such grotesque figures that it 
was impossible not to laugh. I could have forgiven 
them more readily had they not been so horribly lazy ; 
they would not be bribed to do anything. 
A brilliant red mistletoe was growing in a tall tree 
close to the house, and it I longed to have. In tempting 
accents (“ mine give budgery plenty tobacco,”) I tried 
to persuade a black gin to climb up for it, but she only 
laughed and shook her head. Then a sudden inspiration 
struck her and she made the modest demand for all the 
clothes I had on me, particularly the hat and boots ! 
They will often be quite content with one boot, and in 
the north of Western Australia will look upon them- 
selves as fully clothed when they are wearing a battered 
old hat and nothing else. 
I went into their camp to see if I could find anything 
more palatable to eat than in our own. Something 
with an unwholesome look crackled and sputtered on 
the red ashes, and some fur suggested native cat. Then 
a happy thought struck me, I would fish ; and, propor- 
tionately delighted with my line, which I found— an old 
native one with an oyster fish-hook — I set off for the 
river. Here, from a most fascinating seat on a rock, I 
had no sooner cast my line than I found it anchored to 
a log. With a little skilful manipulation I freed it 
again — another throw, a short expectant silence, and 
with a sudden jerk that nearly unseated me, my rod for 
a moment was bent double, then snapped at the point, 
and under my very nose I saw the fish go by. Now up, 
now under the water, the line went down, and I after it, 
