He looked up and nodded, when Reuben entered.
"Well, Jim, I am glad to see you back," Reuben said heartily.

"I was beginning to be afraid about you.

I hope you are not hurt ?"--for the black had a handkerchief tied round his head.
Jim gave a grunt, but continued stuffing great lumps of meat into his mouth.

Reuben saw that he must wait till the black's hunger was satisfied, and stood quietly looking on until, having devoured some five pounds of meat, he gave a sigh of contentment, and then took a long draught of rum and water, which Constable Jones handed to him.
"Jim better now," he said.
"That's right, Jim; now tell us all about it." Jim's story was a long one, and it took more than an hour in the telling; for his English was not always distinct, and it often required much questioning, on Reuben's part, before he could quite make out its meaning.

The substance was as follows: On leaving, some ten days before, on the mission of discovering the haunt of the bush rangers, he knew that it was of no use to go among the wild blacks, their allies; as the hostility against their semi-civilized fellows was so great that he would, at once, have been killed.