A native arrived early in the morning with the intelligence that a herd of wild cattle was now grazing in a ravine of the hills about four miles distant. As we could not well follow them on horseback in that locality, we started off on foot armed with our rifles. The morning as usual was brilliant, but not too warm, and we walked along in high spirits. We had not proceeded far through the woods when one of the natives, who was in advance, stopped short on a sudden, and we all instinctively did the same. Stealing back to us, he took my rifle out of my hands without any ceremony, and telling us to remain perfectly still, crept slowly forward, stooping nearly to the ground. We now perceived a small plain about two hundred yards a-head of us, on which were six wild turkeys leisurely feeding and walking about. The native had dived among the scrub, and we lost all signs of him. It soon, however, became evident that the turkeys suspected danger; they erected their tall brown and grey necks, and looked about them like alarmed sentinels. "They're off!" cried we -- but just as they were preparing to run, which they do with great rapidity, one of them was seen to flutter his wings and tumble over, whilst the crack of the rifle proclaimed the triumph of Migo. We rushed through the brush-wood, elated as schoolboys who have shot their first throstle with a horse-pistol, and found the bustard flapping out its last breath in the hands of the native, whose dark visage gleamed with triumphant pride. Resuming our march, we passed over the side of a hill covered with inferior Jarra trees, and soon entered the ravine in which we expected to find the cattle. They were not visible; so we crossed the valley, and passed up the other side for about half-a-mile, when we entered another valley, some distance up which we perceived a herd of cattle quietly grazing, or lying ruminating in the confidence of perfect security. We endeavoured to creep towards them as quietly as possible, but their senses of smelling and hearing were so acute that they became acquainted with their danger too soon for us, and trotted gently up the valley before we could reach them. We now dispersed in the hope of heading them. Attaching myself to Migo, who considered my rifle the most likely to prove successful, as he had killed the bustard with it, we walked for half an hour across the hill-side without seeing anything of our game. A rifle-shot and a loud shout prepared us for something, and in another minute we heard the crashing of branches and the tread of feet, and soon beheld half-a-dozen cows and two or three calves making their way up the hill at a short distance from us. "What for you no get behind tree?" said the native in an angry whisper, and giving me a push that prevented my staring idly any longer, and sent me into a proper position.