From this time forward I seldom visited Herbert Vale. It was easy to understand that the old overseer was anxious to get rid of me, though I had not troubled him much with my presence. He was one of those Australian hermits who had lived so long by himself that he could not brook others near him. I did all in my power to avoid any change in his old habits. But he got tired of my skins and was annoyed by my skeletons, the smell of which he could not bear, though I kept them in another building. At last I hardly knew what to do with them. He was peevish and unsociable. We never conversed unless it was absolutely necessary.

My relations with Nelly and the Kanaka had hitherto been pleasant; but things came to pass which made a change in their conduct. Nelly had an old one-eyed cur that it was dangerous to approach. When I returned from the expedition to Cardwell it was determined to hinder me from entering my room, barking the whole time and showing its angry teeth. I took a stick and gave it a severe blow, but as I was too angry to calculate the weight of the blow, the dog fell to the ground unconscious. Nelly, who meanwhile had come to the rescue, at once uttered a shriek so terrible that I could hardly conceive it as coming from a human being. It was impossible to get her to stop. She threw herself upon the dog and did not cease shrieking until it became conscious again.