iety of viands. They were all
particularly impressed with the toothsomeness of the meat which the
maid served, so much so that Paul could not refrain from remarking:
"Mr. Bailey, I never ate sweeter chicken than that."

"No, I don't believe you ever did," laughed the mayor. "The fact is,
young man, that is not domestic chicken at all. It is the flesh of the
brush-turkey, a wild fowl which the bushmen or blackfellows bring in
here to market. It is a great delicacy."

"I have read of these bushmen," said Bob. "Are they quite wild?"

"Indeed they are," the mayor replied. "The blackfellow is, I believe,
on the lowest rung of civilization. He is unlike the negro, the Malay,
the Mongolian, and the American Indian, in many ways. If you could
stay a few days, I would be glad to take you back in the bush and show
you a few specimens in their native state. They have a long skull,
with a low, flat forehead, Their brows overhang deep-set, keen eyes,
and they have a heavy lower jaw, with teeth as strong as a dog's.
Their hair is generally wavy or curly, being usually auburn or black in
color. As a rule their faces are almost hidden by beards and whiskers,
which they never comb and which, like the hair on top of their heads,
are always in a beautiful tangle."

"How do they dress, sir?" asked Paul.

This brought another laugh from Mr. Bailey. "That doesn't worry them
in the least!" he declared. "Most bushmen are covered from head to
foot with hair, and I imagine they think this is a good enough uniform,
for they wear nothing except what nature gave them. In bad weather,
however, they do add some artificial protection to their tough bodies
by making a rough wrap out of the skin of a kangaroo or a piece of
flexible bark. Some tribes use rushes and seaweed for this purpose,
while others make a blanket from the dried frog scum of the swamps and
ponds. For boats, pieces of eucalyptus bark, folded and tied at the
ends and daubed with clay, suit them very well. They are too lazy to
dig out the trunk of a tree for a canoe, like the natives of most other
countries."

"Do these blackfellows live in huts?" asked John.

"That's where their laziness manifests itself again," said the mayor,
smiling. "The blackfellow has no permanent dwelling. His shelter is a
cave or overhanging rock, as an animal might select one; sometimes it
is only a large section of bark which he tears from a tree, and under
which he walks or squats i