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At the moment a tall, deeply-bronzed man of about thirty years of age walked up and greeted Captain Ogilvy familiarly as his "buck", enquiring, at the same time, how his "old timbers" were, and where the "bit of baggage" was.
One of them, a grey-haired, deeply-bronzed man of sixty, with his neck and hands tatooed in strange markings, imprinted thereon by the hands of the wild natives of Tucopia, in the South Seas, with whom he has lived forty years before as one of themselves, is mine own particular friend and crony, for his two sons have been playmates with my brothers and myself, who were all born in this quaint old-time seaport of the first colony in Australia; this forgotten remnant of the dread days of the awful convict system, when the clank of horrible gyves sounded on the now deserted and grass-grown streets, and the swish of the hateful and ever active "cat" was heard within the walls of the huge red-brick prison on the bluff facing the sea.
"White men of my stamp!" remarked Bumpus, surveying complacently his deeply-bronzed hands, which were only a shade darker than his visage; "well, I would like to know what ye call black if I'm a white man." "Blood, and not skin, is what stamps the color of the man, Jo.
"Who is going with you, boys?" asked Flemming, looking at their deeply-bronzed, healthy faces so like his own, though his hair had now begun to grizzle about his sunburnt temples. "Jack and Tom, and two Anaa men," they replied, "they sent us to ask you if they could come. They have finished the new roof for the oil-shed, and want to go very badly. Say 'yes, father." "All right boys. You may go.
At the moment a tall, deeply-bronzed man of about thirty years of age walked up and greeted Captain Ogilvy familiarly as his "buck", enquiring, at the same time, how his "old timbers" were, and where the "bit of baggage" was.
"White men of my stamp!" remarked Bumpus, surveying complacently his deeply-bronzed hands, which were only a shade darker than his visage; "well, I would like to know what ye call black if I'm a white man." "Blood, and not skin, is what stamps the colour of the man, Jo.
Of some years less than thirty, he was, perhaps, neither as tall nor as heavy as the stranger; but in spite of a certain boyish look on his smooth-shaven, deeply-bronzed face, he bore himself with the unmistakable air of a matured and self-reliant man. Every nerve and fiber of him seemed alive with that vital energy which is the true beauty and the glory of life.
For I heard loud voices, and saw our nearest neighbour close to the side, talking to a hard-looking, deeply-bronzed man. Then one of the sailors threw us a rope; we made fast, my father stepped on board, and I followed. "Better take the other two I've got, colonel, and clear me out," said the bronzed man.
His companion, too, was standing in a listening attitude a few feet away. His keen ears had also caught a sound, and he knew its meaning. He was a white man, much younger than the Indian, although from his deeply-bronzed face he might have been mistaken for a native. He measured up nobly to the other in size and bearing, as well as in strength, woodland skill, and endurance on the trail.
Seated cross-legged beside him was a native boy, about fifteen years of age, who kept fanning his master's face, and driving away the pestering flies. It was easy to see that the man was suffering from fever. His deeply-bronzed cheeks had yellowed and were thin and hollow, and his eyes dull and apathetic. He looked like a man of fifty, though he was in reality not more than thirty-two.
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