The incident I am about to relate concerned me very nearly, and might have cost me my life as well as my wife.

Well, it happened that Yamba and I were one day returning from one of the many "walkabouts" which we were constantly undertaking alone and with natives, and which sometimes extended over several weeks and even months.

We had pitched our camp for the afternoon, and Yamba went off, as usual, in search of roots and game for the evening meal.

She had been gone some little time when I suddenly heard her well-known "coo-eey" and knowing that she must be in trouble of some kind, I immediately grasped my weapons and went off to her rescue, guiding myself by her tracks.
A quarter of a mile away I came upon a scene that filled me with amazement.

There was Yamba--surely the most devoted wife a man, civilised or savage, ever had--struggling in the midst of quite a crowd of blacks, who were yelling and trying forcibly to drag her away.