On the following day, the travellers began to move onwards, but they did not leave behind (as they had hoped) their troublesome neighbours. The natives rushed forth from the woods in greater numbers than ever, _being painted white_, and many of them carrying spears, and shouting. A horse belonging to one of the party was so startled at this, that he galloped away, and was with some little difficulty recovered. The threats and defiance of the savages were again repeated; and when the party of explorers began to proceed onwards, the whole of the woods appeared to be in flames. Various annoyances and hindrances were experienced from these disagreeable inhabitants of the Bush, during the next ten or twelve days; after which an event happened, which, though sad and unfortunate in itself, was yet calculated to fill the minds of these impudent savages with some respect and awe for the power of the Europeans. Joseph Jones,--the man who attended the flock of sheep, which accompanied Major Mitchell's party in their wanderings in the interior of New Holland,--had been sent for some water; and the tea-kettle he carried with him was the sole cause of the quarrel that ensued. As he was getting up the river bank with the water, another man being stationed (as usual) at the top to protect him with his pistol, one of the natives, with others in his company, met him half way up, and with a smile took hold of the pot which he was carrying, together with the kettle. This was done under pretence of helping Jones, but, on reaching the top of the bank, the savage, in the same jocose way, held it fast, until a woman said something to him; and then, letting the pot go, he seized the kettle with his left hand, and at the same time struck Jones senseless to the ground by a violent blow on the forehead, inflicted with a club which he held in his right. On seeing this the other man, who was stationed by way of protection, fired, and wounded the savage, who swam across the river, and made off as well as he could; but the rest of the tribe were now advancing. The Englishman fired twice at them, and the second time, unfortunately, he shot the woman already mentioned, who, with her child fastened to her back, slid down the bank, and lay, apparently dying, in the water. At this moment three other Englishmen arrived, who had been sent off from the camp when the noise of fire-arms was heard, and one man among the natives was shot in the breast, but little more mischief was done, for the tribe speedily dispersed, having dragged away the dead body of the woman; while Joseph Jones returned, wounded and bleeding, to the camp of the explorers. When night arrived, "a death-like silence," says Major Mitchell, "prevailed along the banks of the river; no far-heard voices of natives at their fires broke, as before, the stillness of the night, while a painful sympathy for the child bereft of its parent, and anticipations of the