The
morning was hot and oppressive, we sat as comfortably as we could in
the shade of our awning; by twelve o'clock no signs of black boys or
horses had made their appearance. At one o'clock we had dinner, and
gave old Jimmy and his mate theirs. I noticed that the younger black
left the camp with a bit of a bundle under his shirt and a canvas
water-bag; I and some of the others watched whither he went, and to
our surprise we found that he was taking food and water to the other
two boys, who should have been away after the horses, but were quietly
encamped under a big bush within a quarter of a mile of us and had
never been after the horses at all. Of course we were very indignant,
and were going to punish them with a good thrashing, when one of them
informed us that it was no use our hammering them, for they could not
go for the horses because they were too much afraid of the Cockata
blacks, and unless we sent old Jimmy or a white man they would not go
out of sight of the camp. This showed the state of superstition and
fear in which these people live. Indeed, I believe if the whole
Fowler's Bay tribes were all encamped together in one mob round their
own fires, in their own country, and any one ran into the camp and
shouted "Cockata," it would cause a stampede among them immediately.
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