The wallaby-hunters are to come in this afternoon with great supplies. When sitting round the fire with our old chief, we asked him if he knew of any tailed folks about inland. "Oh dear, yes." And then he gave us a perfect and laughable description of what must be some creature of the monkey tribe. It climbs, laughs, and talks a peculiar language of its own; it scratches the head, slaps the thigh, and sits down to eat like a man. I then said, "But they are not really men?" "Well, not exactly, but very near it; they are hairy all over, and some are perfectly black." The tail, according to his description, must be about a fathom long. We are to see them, and must, he says, secure one or two, dead or alive. Our spirit is out in his prognostications, the wallaby-hunters have not returned, and we cannot leave to-morrow. 21_st_.--Our spirit friend is quite out as yet, for here we are nursing Patience, and trying to make her a dear friend. We are promised a start to-morrow. In the evening, the hunters came in with large supplies of wallaby. They report innumerable horses and foreigners as having gone to Kupele; we suppose it to be Goldie's party. From to-day's shooting, the old man got a green parrot, and devoured it raw. Oriope dressed himself in his fighting gear, and went through a few antics; he looked a perfect fiend. He is very proud of a stone club he possesses with a piece broken off; he says it was broken in felling a tremendous fellow in a neighbouring village. He killed him. "What, stand before me!"