The boocolo of the Cawndilla tribe was an old man with grey hairs and rather sharp features, below the ordinary stature, but well made and active.

Of all the race with whom I have communicated, his manners were the most pleasing.

There was a polish in them, a freedom and grace that would have befitted a drawing-room.

It was his wont to visit my tent every day at noon, and to sleep during the heat; but he invariably asked permission to do this before he composed himself to rest, and generally laid down at my feet.

Differing from the majority of the natives, he never asked for anything, and although present during our meals kept away from the table.