‘“Marmy! mine think it weja now; you make alight that one mountain, nerangi good way like it, ugh” (the guttural accompanied by the usual black’s point, the protrusion of the under lip)―“that one Boolooloo water sit down. Blackfellow big one tired weja long a Boolooloo. To-night yan longa camp; boomalli (shoot, slay) Hutkeeper.” ‘Boolooloo was a turreted hill, rising abruptly from the crown of the range, and towering far above it. ‘At its foot was a native well―a natural tank―scooped out of solid rock, gourd-shaped, with a small man-hole at the top. Its depth was, perhaps, twelve feet, with a diameter of double the extent. Its shaded position, under a ledge of overhanging rock, enabled it to contain water through any ordinary summer. ‘The rugged plateau of the summit of Boolooloo had been hollowed into caves from immemorial time, favoured retreats of the wild tribes in its vicinity. It wanted now an hour to sundown; the hill was then three miles distant. ‘Bothwell’s order was to wait until nightfall, then to surprise the camp and to arrest Hutkeeper, with the usual alternative if he evaded or resisted the capture. He promised me that, if possible, he should be taken alive. Sudden vengeance having been denied me, I was far from keen for the old pagan’s blood. Bothwell could have told me that Hutkeeper’s last sun was setting. ‘The troopers, deciding to stalk the bush on foot, took off their superfluous clothing, also their boots, slinging their ammunition pouches over their shoulders. The horses, unsaddled and close hobbled, were turned loose. Then all awaited the close of day. Supper was postponed till after the invasion of the camp, as a fire would have betrayed our vicinity. The troopers, light-hearted and free from anxiety, a complaint chiefly confined to the white man, passed away the time card-playing. Their officer and I sat silently on the short turf, watching the shadows of the gydya trees lengthen, ah! so slowly. The sun was fading over the northern turrets of Boolooloo, lighting them into elfin splendour, as might gleam the battlements of a ruined castle. A fast-glooming shadow crept around the mountain, until at length its huge mass was hidden from the watchers. ‘The light of day had departed. The hour was come. The last act of the tragedy was about to commence. ‘The troopers put up their cards, lifted their carbines, and passed shadow-like and silently through the trees. We followed. In an hour we reached the base of Boolooloo.