{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_56699/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_56699","id":"gutenberg_56699","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/56699","summary":null,"tags":["Aboriginal Australians -- Folklore","Category: Adventure","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Novels","Folklore -- Australia","Tales -- Australia"],"text":"Produced by Al Haines\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Cover art]\n\n\n\n[Frontispiece: \"'No small beast did that,' he said. 'You are lucky to\nbe alive, Tullum.'\" (Page 15.)]\n\n\n\n\n  THE STONE AXE OF\n  BURKAMUKK\n\n\n\n  BY\n\n  MARY GRANT BRUCE\n\n\n\n  ILLUSTRATED BY J. MACFARLANE\n\n\n\n  WARD, LOCK & CO., LTD.\n  LONDON AND MELBOURNE\n  1922\n\n\n\n\nFOREWORD\n\nYear by year the old black tribes are dying out, and many of their\nlegends and beliefs are dying with them.  These legends deal with the\nworld as the blacks knew it; with the Bush animals and birds; the\npowers of storm, flood, fire, thunder, and magic, and the beings who\nthey thought controlled these powers; with the sun, moon and stars; and\nwith the life and death of men and women.\n\nMany of the old tales are savage enough, but through them runs a thread\nof feeling for the nobler side of life, so far as these wild people\ncould grasp it.  The spirit of self-sacrifice is seen in them, and\ngreed, selfishness and cruelty are often punished as they deserve.  We\nare apt to look on the blacks as utter barbarians, but, as we read\ntheir own old stories, we see that they were boys and girls, men and\nwomen, not so unlike us in many ways, and that they could admire what\nwe admire in each other, and condemn what we would condemn.  The\nfolk-tales of a people are the story of its soul, and it would be a\npity if the native races of our country were to vanish altogether\nbefore we had collected enough of their legends to let their successors\nknow what manner of people lived in Australia for thousands of years\nbefore the white man came.  Some valuable collections have indeed been\nmade, but they are all too few; and there must even to-day be many\npeople, especially in the wilder parts of Australia, who are in touch\nwith the aborigines, and could, if they would, get the old men and\nwomen to tell them the stories which were handed down to them when they\nwere children.\n\nIn the hope of persuading all young Australians who have the\nopportunity to collect and preserve what they can of the ancient life\nand legends of Australia, I have put into modern English a few of the\ntales which may still be had from some old blackfellow or gin.\n\nM.G.B.\n\n\n\n\n  CONTENTS\n\n  I  The Stone Axe of Burkamukk\n  II  Waung, the Crow\n  III  The Emu who would Dance\n  IV  Booran, the Pelican\n  V  The Story of the Stars\n  VI  How Light Came\n  VII  The Frog that Laughed\n  VIII  The Maiden who found the Moon\n  IX  Mirran and Warreen\n  X  The Daughters of Wonkawala\n  XI  The Burning of the Crows\n  XII  Kur-bo-roo, the Bear\n  XIII  Wurip, the Fire-Bringer\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nTHE STONE AXE OF BURKAMUKK\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nThe camp lay calm and peaceful under the spring sunlight.  Burkamukk,\nthe chief, had chosen its place well: the wurleys were built in a green\nglade well shaded with blackwood and boobyalla trees, and with a soft\nthick carpet of grass, on which the black babies loved to roll.  Not a\nhundred yards away flowed a wide creek; a creek so excellent that it\nfed a swamp a little farther on.  The blacks loved to be near a swamp,\nfor it was as good as a storehouse of food: the women used to go there\nfor lily-pads and sedge-roots, and the men would spear eels in its\nmuddy waters, while at times big flocks of duck settled on it, besides\nother water-fowl.  Burkamukk was a very wise chief, and all his people\nwere fat, and therefore contented.\n\nAs blacks count wealth, the people of Burkamukk were very well off.\nThey had plenty of skin rugs, so that no one went cold, even in the\nwinter nights; and the women had made them well, sewing them together\nwith the sinews of animals, using for their needles the small bone of a\nkangaroo's hind-leg, ground to a fine point.  It was hard work to sew\nthese well, but the men used to take pains to get good skins, pegging\nthem out with tea-tree spikes and dressing them with wood-ashes and\nfat, which they rubbed in until the skins were soft and supple; and so\nthe women thought that the least they could do was to sew them in the\nvery best way.  Being particular about the rugs made the women\nparticular about other things as well, and they had a far better outfit\nthan could be found in most camps.  Each woman had a good pitchi, a\nsmall wooden trough hollowed out of the soft wood of the bean-tree, in\nwhich food was kept.  When the tribe went travelling the pitchi was as\nuseful as a suit-case is to a white Australian girl; the lubras packed\nthem with food, and carried them balanced on their heads, or slung to\none hip by a plait of human hair, or a fur band; and sometimes a big\npitchi was made by a proud father and beautifully carved with a stone\nknife, and used as a cradle for a fat black baby.  Then the women used\nto weave baskets made of a strong kind of rush, ornamented with\ncoloured patterns and fancy stitches, and each one had, as well, a bag\nmade of the tough inner bark of the acacia tree, or sometimes of a\nmessmate or stringy bark, in which she kept food, sticks and tinder for\nstarting a fire, wattle-gum for cement, shells, tools, and all sorts of\ncharms to keep off evil spirits.  They had a queer kind of cooking-pot,\nin which they used to dissolve gum and manna.  These pots were made out\nof the big rough lumps that grow out of old gum-trees, hollowed out by\na chisel made of a kangaroo's thighbone.  The women used to put gum and\nmanna in these and place them near the fire, so that the water\ngradually heated without burning the wood.  There was no pottery among\nthe blacks, and so they could never boil food, but they contrived to\nmake pleasant warm drinks in these wooden pots.\n\nWhen it came to baking, however, the women of the tribe were well able\nto turn out toothsome roasts.  Their ovens were holes in the ground,\nplastered with mud, and then filled with fire until the clay was very\nhot.  When the temperature was right the embers were taken out, and the\nholes lined with wet grass.  The food--flesh, fish, or roots--was\npacked in rough rush baskets and placed in the ovens, and covered with\nmore wet grass, hot stones, gravel, and earth, until the holes were\nquite air-tight.  The women liked to do this in the evening, so that\nthe food cooked slowly all night; and often all the cooking was done in\na few big ovens, and next morning each family came to remove its basket\nof food.  And if you had come along breakfastless just as the steaming\nbaskets were taken out, and had been asked to join in eating a plump\nyoung bandicoot or wallaby or a fat black fish--well, even though there\nwere no plates or knives or forks, I do not think you would have\ngrumbled at your meal.\n\nThe men of Burkamukk's tribe were well armed.  Their boomerangs, spears\nand throwing-sticks were all of the best, and they had, in addition,\nknives made of splinters of flint or sharpened mussel-shell, lashed\ninto handles.  Some had skinning knives made of the long front teeth of\nthe bandicoot, with the jaw left on for a handle; and they worked\nkangaroo bones into all kinds of tools.  But Burkamukk himself had a\nwonderful weapon, the only one in all that district--a mighty axe.  It\nwas made of green stone, wedge-shaped, and sharply ground at one edge.\nThis was grasped in the bend of a doubled piece of split sapling, and\ntightly bound round with kangaroo sinews; and the handle thus formed\nwas additionally strengthened by being cemented to the head by a\nmixture of gum and shell lime.  It was not a very easy matter to make\nthat cement.  First, mussel shells were burned to make the lime, and\npounded in a hollow stone.  Then wattle-gum was chewed for a long time\nand placed between sheets of green bark, which were laid in a shallow\nhole in the ground and covered with hot ashes until the gum was\ndissolved, when it was kneaded with the lime into a tough paste.  The\nblacks would have been badly off without that cement, but not all of\nthem would go to the trouble of making it as thoroughly as did the men\nof Burkamukk's tribe.  All the best workmanship had gone to the\nmanufacture of Burkamukk's axe, and the whole tribe was proud of it.\nSometimes the chief would lend it to the best climbers among his young\nmen, who used it to cut steps in the bark of trees when they wanted to\nclimb in search of monkey-bears or 'possums; or he would let them use\nit to strip sheets of bark from the trees, to make their wurleys.\nThose to whom the axe was lent always showed their sense of the honour\ndone them by making payment in kind--the fattest of the game caught, or\na finely-woven rush mat, would be laid at the chief's door.  If this\nhad not been done Burkamukk would probably have looked wise next time\nsome one had wished to borrow his axe, and would have remarked that he\nhad work for it himself.\n\nEven though he occasionally lent the axe, Burkamukk never let it go out\nof his sight.  It was far too precious a possession for that.  He, too,\nwent hunting when the axe went, or watched it used to prise great\nstrips of thick bark off the trees, and he probably worried the\nborrower very much by continually directing how it should be handled.\nNot that the young men would have taken any risks with it.  It was the\nchief's axe, but its possession brought dignity upon the whole tribe.\nOther chiefs had axes, more or less excellent, but there was no weapon\nin all the countryside so famous as the axe of Burkamukk.  I doubt\nwhether the Kings of England have valued their Crown Jewels so highly\nas Burkamukk valued his stone treasure with the sapling handle.\nCertainly they cannot have found them half so useful.\n\nOn this spring afternoon Burkamukk was coming up from the swamp where\nhe had been spearing eels.  He had been very successful: Koronn, his\nwife, walked behind him carrying a dozen fine specimens, and thinking\nhow good a supper she would be able to cook, and how delighted her\nlittle boy Tumbo would be; for of all things Tumbo loved to eat eel.\nJust at the edge of the camp Burkamukk stopped, frowning.\n\nA hunting-party of young men had evidently just returned; they were the\ncentre of a group in the middle of the camp, and still they were\ncarrying their spears and throwing-sticks.  They were talking loudly\nand gesticulating, and it was clear that those who listened to them\nwere excited and distressed; there were anxious faces and the women\nwere crying \"Yakai!\" (Alas!).  The chief strode up to the group.\n\n\"What is the matter?\" he asked.\n\nThe men turned, saluting him respectfully.\n\n\"We have fallen upon evil times, Chief,\" their leader answered.\n\"Little game have we caught, and we have lost Kon-garn.\"\n\n\"Lost him!  How?\"\n\n\"There is a great and terrible beast in the country to which we went,\"\nanswered Tullum, the young warrior.  \"The men of the friendly tribe we\npassed told us of him, but we thought they were joking with us, for it\nseemed a foolish tale, only fit to make women afraid.  They told us of\na great kangaroo they call Kuperee, larger than a dozen kangaroos and\nfiercer than any animal that walks on the earth; and they warned us not\nto go near his country.\"\n\n\"A kangaroo as large as a dozen!\" said Burkamukk.  \"Ky! but I would\nlike to see such a beast The whole tribe could feed on him.\"\n\n\"Ay, they might, if one had the luck to be able to kill him,\" said\nTullum sorrowfully.  \"But a kangaroo of that size is no joke to\nencounter.\"\n\n\"What!\" said Burkamukk.  \"Do you mean me to believe that there is truly\nsuch a kangaroo?\"\n\n\"There is indeed,\" Tullum answered.  \"We also did not believe.  We went\non, thinking that the other tribe merely wished to keep us away from a\ngood hunting-ground.  We took no precautions, and we came upon him\nsuddenly.\"\n\n\"And he was a big kangaroo, do you say?\"\n\nTullum flung out his hands.\n\n\"There are no words to tell you of his bigness, O, Chief!\" he said--and\nhis voice shook with terror.  \"Never has such an animal been seen\nbefore.  Black is he, and huge, and fierce; and when he saw us he\nroared and rushed upon us.  There was no time to do battle: he was on\nus almost before one could fling a spear.  Kon-garn was nearest, and he\nwent down with one blow of the monster's foot, his head crushed.  Me he\nstruck at, but luckily for me I was almost out of his reach.  Still, he\ntouched me--see!\"  He moved aside his 'possum-skins, and showed long\nwounds, running from his shoulder to his wrist--wounds that looked as\nthough they had been made by great claws.\n\nBurkamukk looked at them closely.\n\n\"No small beast did that,\" he said.  \"You are lucky to be alive,\nTullum.\"\n\n\"Ay,\" said Tullum briefly.  \"Indeed, I thought for a while that I was\nas dead as Kon-garn.  But I managed to dodge behind a tree, and the\nbush was thick, so that by great good fortune I got away.  Kuperee gave\nchase, but we all scattered, and luckily the one he chose to follow was\nWoma, who is the swiftest of us all; and Woma gave him the slip without\nmuch trouble, for Kuperee is so great that he cannot get through the\ntrees quickly.  So we came together again after a day and a night, and\ntravelled home swiftly.\"\n\n\"And none of you went back to avenge Kon-garn?\" the chief asked,\nsternly.\n\nTullum looked at him with a curious mixture of shame and defiance.\n\n\"Nay,\" he said.  \"None of us have ever been reckoned cowards--and yet\nwe did not go back.  An ordinary enemy would not have made us afraid,\nbut there is something about Kuperee that turns the very heart to\nwater.  We hated ourselves--we hate ourselves still--for not going\nback.  The blood of Kon-garn cries out to us for vengeance on his\nslayer, and in our sleep we see our comrade, with his head crushed by\nthat terrible foot.  And yet we could not turn.  We have come home to\nyou like frightened children, and shame is on our heads.  We know not\nhow to face Kon-garn's wife, who sits there and cries 'Yakai!' before\nher wurley.\"\n\nAnother of the warriors, Woma the Swift-footed, spoke up, with sullen\nanger in his voice.\n\n\"We are shamed,\" he said, \"but there is Magic in it.  No true animal is\nKuperee, but an evil spirit.  No man could possibly stand before him.\"\n\nTo put anything they could not understand down to the score of Magic\nand evil spirits was the usual custom of the blacks; but this time it\nseemed more than usually likely to be true.  The Meki-gar, or\nmedicine-men, nodded wisely, and the women all shuddered and wailed\nafresh, while the men looked anxious and afraid.  Burkamukk thought for\na moment before replying.  He was a very wise chief, and while he was\njust as afraid of Magic as any other blackfellow, still he had the\nsafety of his tribe to consider.\n\n\"That is all very well,\" he said, at length.  \"Very likely it is true.\nBut it may not be true after all: Kuperee may be no more than a very\nwonderful kangaroo who has managed to grow to an enormous size.  If\nthat is so, he will want much food, and gradually he will hunt farther\nand farther, all over the country, until at last he will come here.\nThen we shall all suffer.\"\n\n\"Ay,\" said the men.  \"That is true.  But what can we do?\"\n\n\"I will not sit down quietly until I know for certain that Kuperee is\nMagic,\" said Burkamukk, striking the ground with the butt of his\neel-spear.  \"If indeed he be Magic, then it will be the part of the\nMeki-gar to deal with him.  But first I would have my young men prove\nwhether they cannot avenge Kon-garn.  It is in my mind that this\nKuperee is no more than a huge animal; and I want his blood.  Who will\nshed it for me?\"\n\nThere was no lack of brave warriors among the men of Burkamukk.  A\nshout went up from them, and immediately forty or fifty sprang before\nhim, waking all the Bush echoes with their yells of defiance against\nKuperee or any other giant animal, whether kangaroo or anything else.\nOnly Tullum and the hunters who had been with him hung back; and they\nwere unnoticed in the general excitement.\n\n\"Ye are too many,\" Burkamukk said, surveying them proudly.  \"Ten such\nmen should be a match for any kangaroo.\"  He ran his eye over them\nrapidly and counted out half a score by name.  Then he bade the other\nvolunteers fall back, so that the chosen warriors were left standing\nalone.\n\n\"It is well,\" he said.  \"Namba shall be your leader, and you will obey\nhim in all things.  Find out from Tullum where to look for this\nKuperee, and see that you go warily, and that your weapons are always\nready.  Go; seek Kuperee, and ere seven sleeps have gone, bring me his\ntail to eat!\"  He stalked towards his wurley.  The young men, shouting\nyells of battle, rushed for their weapons.  In ten minutes they had\ngone, running swiftly over the plain, and the camp was quiet again,\nsave for the cries of Kon-garn's wife as she mourned for her husband.\n\nBut alas! within a few days the wife of Kon-garn was not the only woman\nto bewail her dead.  In less than a week the hunting-party was back,\nand without three of its bravest warriors.  The survivors told the same\nstory as Tullum and his men.  They had found Kuperee, this time roaming\nthrough the Bush in search of food; and he had uttered a roar and\nrushed upon them.  They had fought, they said, but unavailingly: spears\nand throwing-sticks seemed to fall back blunted from the monster's\nhide, and two of the men had been seized and devoured, while the third,\nNamba, who rushed wildly in, frantically endeavouring to save them, had\nbeen crushed to earth with one sweeping blow.  Then terror,\noverwhelming and unconquerable, had fallen on the seven men who\nremained, and they had fled, never stopping until they were far away.\nWeaponless and ashamed, they crept back to the camp with their\nmiserable story.\n\nBurkamukk heard them in silence.  Other chiefs might have been angry,\nand inflicted fierce punishments, but he knew that to such men there\ncould be no heavier penalty than to return beaten and afraid.  He\nnodded, when they had finished.\n\n\"Then it would surely seem that Kuperee is Magic,\" he said.  \"Therefore\nno man can deal with him, save only the medicine-men.  Go to your\nwurleys and rest.\"\n\nThe Meki-gar were not at all anxious for the task of ridding the earth\nof Kuperee, but since their art, like that of all medicine-men,\nconsisted in saying as little as possible, they dared not show their\ndisinclination.  Instead, they accepted Burkamukk's instructions in\nowl-like silence, making themselves look as wise as possible, and\nnodding as though giant kangaroos came their way--and were swept out of\nit--every day in the week.  Then they withdrew to a lonely place\noutside their camp and began their spells.  They lit tiny fires and\nburned scraps of kangaroo-hide, throwing the ashes in the air and\nuttering terrible curses against Kuperee.  Also they secretly weaved\nmany magic spells, sitting by their little fires and keeping a sharp\nlook-out lest any of the tribe should see what they were doing--an\nunnecessary precaution, since the tribe was far too terrified of Magic\nto go anywhere near them.  When they had been at work for what they\nconsidered a sufficient length of time, they packed up all their charms\nin skin bags, and returned to the camp, where they told Burkamukk that\nKuperee was probably dead, as a result of their incantations.  \"But if\nhe is not,\" said their head man, \"then it is because we have nothing\nbelonging to Kuperee himself to make spells with.  If we had so much of\na hair of his tail, or even one of the bones that he has gnawed, then\nwe could make such a spell that nothing in the world could stand\nagainst it.  As it is, we have done wonderful things, and he is very\nlikely dead.  Certainly no other Meki-gar could have done as much.\"\n\nBurkamukk thanked the Meki-gar very respectfully.  He did not\nunderstand their Magic at all, and he was badly afraid of all Magic;\nstill, he knew that the Meki-gar did not always succeed in their\nundertakings, and he felt that though their spells were, no doubt,\nstrong, there was quite a chance that Kuperee was stronger.  He would\nhave felt much happier had the Meki-gar been able to prove that the\nenemy was dead.  \"If I could give them a hair of his tail,\" thought he,\n\"there would be no need for spells, since Kuperee will certainly be\ndead before he allows anyone to meddle with his tail.\"  It was with\nsome bitterness that he dismissed the wise men, giving them a present\nof roasted wallaby.\n\nIt was not long before proof came that the Magic of the Meki-gar had\nbeen at fault.  Burkamukk's young men, out hunting, met a hunting-party\nof a friendly tribe, from whom they learned that the great kangaroo was\nfiercer and more powerful than ever, and had slain many men in the\ncountry to the north.  As Burkamukk had foreseen, he was ranging\nfarther and farther afield, so that no district could feel safe from\nhim.  It could be only a question of time before Kuperee would wander\ndown to his country.\n\nBurkamukk held a council of war that night, at which all the warriors\nand the Meki-gar were present.  The chief wanted to lead his best men\nagainst the monster, but the Meki-gar opposed the suggestion\nvigorously, saying that it was not right for the head of the tribe to\nrun into a danger such as this.  An ordinary battle was all very well,\nbut this was Magic, and against it chiefs were just as ordinary men:\nand where would the tribe be without its mighty head?  The warriors\nsupported the Meki-gar, and they all argued about it until Burkamukk\nwas ready to lose his temper.  He had no wish to see his best hunters\ngrow fewer and fewer--already two expeditions had ended in disaster and\nloss.  The discussion was becoming an angry one when suddenly the\nchief's two eldest sons, Inda and Pilla, rose and spoke.  They were\nyoung men, but already they were renowned hunters, famous at tracking\nand killing game: and besides their skill with weapons, it was said\nthat they had learned from the Meki-gar much wisdom beyond the\nknowledge of ordinary men.  Straight and tall as young rushes, they\nfaced their father.\n\n\"Let us go,\" Inda said--\"Pilla and I.  Numbers are useless against\nKuperee; it is only cunning that will slay him, and for that two men\nare better than a score.  Give us a trial, and if we fail, then will be\ntime enough to talk of a great expedition.\"\n\nThe chief looked at them with angry unhappiness.\n\n\"And if you fail?\" he said.  \"Then I shall have lost my sons.\"\n\n\"What of that?\" asked Pilla.  \"You have other sons, and we will have\ndied for the tribe.  That is the right of a chief's son.  Other men's\nsons have tried, and some of them have died.  Now it is our turn.\"\n\nA murmur of dissent ran round the circle, for Pilla and Inda were much\nloved; and they were very young.  But Burkamukk looked at them proudly,\nthough his face was very sad.\n\n\"They say rightly,\" he said.  \"They are the chief's sons, and it is\ntheir privilege, if need be, to die for the tribe.  Go, then, my sons,\nand may Pund-jel make your hearts cunning and your aim steady when you\nmeet Kuperee.\"\n\n\"There is one thing we desire,\" Inda said.  \"Will you lend us your\nstone axe, my father?  It seems to us that Kuperee will fall to no\nordinary weapon, and a dream has come to us that bids us take the axe.\nBut that is for you to say.  It is a great thing to ask; but if we live\nwe will bring it back to you in safety.\"\n\nBurkamukk signed to a young man who stood near him, and bade him fetch\nthe axe from his wurley.  When it came, he handed it to his sons.\n\n\"It is a great treasure, but you are my sons, and you are worthy to\nbear it,\" he said.  \"Never before has it left my sight in the hands of\nany warrior, and I would that I were the one to wield it against\nKuperee.  Good luck go with it and with you, my sons!\"\n\nSo Inda and Pilla made themselves ready to go, preparing as if they\nwere to take part in a splendid corroboree.  They painted themselves\nwith white stripes, and over and under their eyes and on their cheeks\ndrew streaks of red ochre.  Round their heads they wore twisted bands\nof fur, and in these bands they stuck plumes, made of the white quill\nfeathers of a black swan's wing.  Kangaroo teeth were fastened in their\nhair, and necklaces of the same teeth hung down upon their breasts.\nFrom their shoulders hung the tails of yellow dingos.  They wore belts\nand aprons of wallaby skin, and, fastened behind to these belts, stiff\nupright tufts of the neck feathers of the emu, like the tail of a cock.\nThey bore many weapons, and each took it in turn to carry the stone axe\nof Burkamukk.  The whole tribe came out to watch them go, and while the\nmen were envious, the women wailed sadly, for they were young, and it\nseemed that they were going forth to die.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nPilla and Inda travelled swiftly through the Bush for the first two\ndays of their journey.  They passed through good hunting country, where\nthey were tempted by the sign of much game, but they would not allow\nthemselves to turn aside, greatly as they longed for fresh meat.  They\ncarried a little food with them, and were fortunate in finding much\nboombul, which the white people afterwards called manna--a sweet white\nsubstance rather like small pieces of loaf-sugar, with a very delicate\nflavour.  Boombul drops from the leaves and small branches of some\nkinds of gum-trees, and the blacks loved to eat it, so Pilla and Inda\nthought themselves very lucky.\n\nThey met friendly blacks now and then, as they travelled, and heard\nmany stories of the ferocity of Kuperee.  Some of the reports were very\nterrifying.  It was difficult to find out how huge he was, for he\nseemed to grow in size according to the terror of the men who had seen\nhim: some of whom said he was as large as any gum-tree.  But all were\nagreed as to his fierceness.  He devoured men in a single gulp: he\nstruck them down as one might strike a yurkurn, or lizard: his\nswiftness in pursuit was terrible to see.  The man he chased had no\nchance whatever, unless he managed to reach thick timber, where\nKuperee's size prevented his taking the gigantic leaps which so quickly\nended a chase on open ground.  And about all the tales hung the sense\nof blind fear which the great beast seemed to inspire.  No matter how\nbrave a fighting-man might be, the sight of Kuperee seemed to turn his\nheart to water, making him long only to flee like a frightened child.\nTheir voices shook with terror as they spoke of him.\n\n\"It seems to me,\" said Inda, as they journeyed on, after having talked\nto some of these hunters, \"that our first thought should be for\nourselves.  All these men have thought themselves very brave, and have\ngone out to meet Kuperee, never doubting that they would not be afraid:\nand they have become very afraid indeed.  Now you and I are no cowards\nin ordinary fighting, and we have had no fear of ourselves.  But I\nthink we had better make up our minds that we certainly shall become\nafraid, and decide what to do.  I do not wish to lose my senses and run\naway like a beaten pickaninny.\"\n\n\"That is good sense,\" said Pilla.  \"Perhaps if we managed to keep our\nheads during our first terror it might pass after a time, so that we\nshould again be as men.\"\n\n\"That is my idea,\" Inda answered.  \"And if Kuperee did not happen to\nsee us while we were afraid, so much the better for us.  I do not\nbelieve that fear will be with us always, but still, we are no better\nthan all these other men.  I believe we will get an attack of it, and\nthen it will pass off, like an attack of sickness, if we treat it\nproperly.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Pilla, nodding.  \"But if we run away we shall be afraid for\never--always supposing we are not dead.\"\n\n\"If we run away, the one that Kuperee runs after will certainly be\ndead,\" Inda said.  \"Therefore, let us go very warily, and perhaps we\ncan manage so that he does not see us during our first fear.\"\n\n\"It is a queer thing,\" Pilla said, laughing, \"for hunters to go out\nmaking certain of being afraid.\"\n\n\"I think it is a safe thing just now,\" said Inda shortly.  \"This\nhunting is not like other hunting.\"\n\nSo they went on, keeping a very sharp look-out, and having their\nweapons always ready.  The stone axe of Burkamukk was rather\ntroublesome to them, for their hands were encumbered with spears and\nthrowing-sticks, and they were not used to carrying an axe: so, at\nlast, Inda twisted strings of bark and slung it across his shoulders,\nwhere it felt much more comfortable.  Soon they came upon traces of the\ngreat beast they sought.  The forest began to be full of his tracks,\nand the saplings had been pulled about and gnawed by some creature\nlarger than anything they had ever seen.  And then, one evening, they\nheard running feet, and, leaping to one side, spear in hand, they saw\nhalf a dozen men, racing through the Bush, blind with terror.  One\nslipped and fell near where they were standing, and rolled almost to\ntheir feet.  Pilla and Inda drew him into a thicket.\n\n\"Is Kuperee after you?\" they asked.\n\nThe man rolled his eyes upwards.\n\n\"He has slain two of us, and is now in pursuit of us all,\" he panted.\n\"Let me go!\"  He scrambled to his feet and dashed away.\n\nPilla and Inda crouched low in the thicket, seeing nothing.  But\npresently they heard a mighty pounding through the trees fifty yards\naway: and though nothing was visible, the sound of those great leaps\nwas so terrifying in itself that they found themselves trembling.  The\npounding died away in the direction in which the blacks had gone.\n\n\"Ky! what a tail he must have, that makes the earth shake as he goes!\"\nInda muttered.  \"Never have I heard anything like it!  Art afraid,\nPilla?\"\n\n\"Very much, I believe,\" said Pilla.  \"But it will pass, I feel sure.\nBrother, it seems to me that Kuperee's den must be not far off, and it\nwould be safe to try to find it, since he has gone southward for his\nhunting: and most likely he will return slowly.  Let us push on, while\nwe can go quickly.\"\n\n\"That is good talk,\" Inda answered.  \"Perhaps we can hide ourselves\nnear his den, and watch him without being seen.  I should like to get\nmy terror over in a high tree.\"\n\n\"I, too,\" said Pilla.  \"I fancy the attack might pass more quickly.\nLet us hurry.\"\n\nThey pushed onward as fast as possible.  It was not hard to find the\nway, for the blacks had fled too madly to trouble about leaving tracks,\nand the marks of their running made a clear path, to native eyes.\nSoon, too, they came upon Kuperee's tracks--great footprints and deep\ndepressions in the earth where his enormous tail had hit the ground at\nevery bound.  Then the Bush became more and more beaten down, as though\nsome great animal roamed through it constantly; and at last they found\nthe body of a hunter, struck down from behind as he ran.\n\n\"It was no playful tap that killed him,\" said Pilla, with a shudder.\n\"The other, I suppose, was eaten as Kuperee loves to eat men, in one\ngulp.  See, Inda--is not that where he sleeps?\"\n\nThey were near a cleared space, where the ground was much trampled.\nBones lay here and there, and in the shadow of a dense lightwood tree\nin the middle the grass showed clearly where a great body had often\nlain.  No kangaroo has any kind of hole, for they love the Bush to\nsleep in, and Kuperee was evidently like other kangaroos in this.\nProbably he changed his home often; but this was a good place, ringed\nabout with bushes that made it quiet and hard to find, so that no enemy\nwas likely to come upon him too suddenly; while, from his lair under\nthe lightwood, he could see anything approach.\n\n\"Men, or animals, or leaves--it does not seem to matter to him what he\neats,\" said Inda, looking at the lair.  \"No wonder he grows huge.\nPilla, I am very afraid, but I feel I will not always be afraid.  Let\nus climb up into the lightwood tree; he will never see us among its\nthick leaves.  Then he will come home tired, and perhaps we can spear\nhim as he sleeps.\"\n\nThey climbed up into the dense branches, mounting high, and choosing\nstout limbs to lie on where they could peer down below; and they fixed\ntheir spears and other weapons so that they could use them easily.  The\nstone axe of Burkamukk was much in Inda's way in climbing, and finally\nhe untied it from his shoulders.\n\n\"I do not see how I can use this in the tree,\" he said.  \"See, I will\nstrike it into the trunk, so that we can get at it handily if we need\nit.\"\n\nHe smote it against the trunk, and the wood held it fast.  Then he and\nPilla took their places, and watched for the coming of Kuperee.\n\nThey had not long to wait.  Presently came, far off, the sound of great\nbounds and breaking saplings; not, as they had heard it last, in the\nfierceness of pursuit, but slowly, as a man may return home after\nsuccessful hunting.  The brothers felt their hearts thumping as they\nwaited.  Nearer and nearer came the sound, and soon the bushes parted\nand a mighty kangaroo hopped into the clearing.\n\nSo huge was he, so black and fierce, that they caught at each other in\nterror.  Never had they dreamed of any kangaroo like this.  His fur was\nthick and long, and of a glossy black; his head carried proudly aloft,\nhis great tail like the limb of a tree.  And in his gleaming eyes, and\non his fierce face, was an expression of cunning and ferocity that,\neven more than his size, made him unlike any animal the Bush had ever\nknown.  Something of mystery and terror seemed to surround him; it was\nindeed clear that he was Magic.  Pilla and Inda trembled so that they\nfeared that the lightwood would shake and reveal them to the monster.\n\nHe sat down, out on the clear space, and rubbed his mouth with his\nforepaws, sniffing at the air so that they fell into a further terror,\nthinking he had smelt them out.  But one blackfellow smells much like\nanother, and Kuperee had recently dealt with three blacks: if he\nnoticed any unusual odour he put it down to his late meal.  He felt\nsleepy and well-fed; he had enjoyed both his run and his meal.  Now, he\nonly wanted sleep.\n\nHe hopped towards the lightwood, and at his coming Pilla and Inda felt\nthemselves gripped by overmastering fear.  Their teeth chattered; their\ndry tongues seemed to choke them.  They clung to their boughs, dreading\nlest their trembling hold should loosen, bringing them tumbling at his\nfeet.  So, gripping with toes and fingers, with sweating cheeks pressed\nclosely to the limbs, with staring eyes that peered downwards, they\nwatched the dreadful beast come.\n\nHe came in under the tree and lay down, stretching himself out to\nsleep; and in a few moments his heavy breathing showed that he had\npassed quietly into slumber.  As they watched, something of their\nterror left the brothers.  Asleep, Kuperee was not so horrible; he\nlooked, indeed, not so unlike any other kangaroo, with his fierce eyes\nveiled and the strength of his great body relaxed.\n\n\"I believe my time of fear is passing,\" Inda whispered.  \"He is but a\nkangaroo, after all.\"\n\n\"Yes, but what a terrible one!\" murmured Pilla, as well as his\nchattering teeth would let him.  \"Still, we are mighty hunters, and no\nfools: unless he is really Magic we should be able to subdue him.  I am\nbeginning to feel a man again.\"\n\n\"We do not know for certain that he is Magic.  Let us believe, then,\nthat he is not, and that will help us,\" Inda whispered.  \"Why should we\nnot spear him as he lies?\"\n\n\"We might easily do it.  Let us creep to the lower boughs, where we\nshall have more room to move our arms.  Art afraid any longer, Inda?\"\n\n\"Not as I was,\" Inda replied.  \"At least, not while he sleeps.\"\n\n\"Then let us try to arrange that he shall never wake,\" Pilla murmured.\n\nVery softly, with infinite caution, they crept down the tree, until\nthey came to the great lower limbs.  Here they had space to swing their\narms, and they made their weapons ready.  Below, the huge kangaroo\nnever stirred.  His deep breathing, telling of sound slumber, was music\nin the ears of the brothers.  They nodded a signal to each other as\nthey poised their first spears.\n\nSo swiftly did they throw that before Kuperee was aroused from his\nsleep a shower of throwing-sticks and spears had hurtled through the\nair.  Not one missed; the mark was easy, and the brothers were proved\nhunters.  The weapons sped fast and true.  But a terrible thing\nhappened.  Each point, as it struck Kuperee's fur, became blunt, and,\ninstead of piercing him in fifty places, the weapons fell back from\nhim, spent and useless.\n\nWith a groan of fear, the brothers grasped at the branches and swung\nthemselves aloft.  Below, Kuperee's roar of fury drowned all other\nsounds.  He sprang to his feet, his eyes blazing.  He had received no\ninjury, but he had been touched--that in itself was an indignity he had\nnever suffered before.  With another earth-shaking roar he looked about\nfor his foes.\n\nTo be attacked from the air was a new experience for Kuperee.  All his\nother enemies had come upon him out of the Bush, and it never occurred\nto him, in his rage, to look upward, where the shaking of the branches\nwould certainly have revealed the terrified Pilla and Inda.  Instead,\nseeing nothing, Kuperee made sure that the trees concealed the\nattackers.  He roared again, dreadfully, and bounded across the\nclearing.  The Bush closed behind him, but the sky rang with the echo\nof his terrible voice and the thud of the leaps that carried him\nrapidly away.\n\nKuperee sleeping and Kuperee awake and angry were two very different\nbeings, and with the first movement of the monster all their fear had\ncome back to Pilla and Inda.  As roar succeeded roar they became more\nand more weak with terror.  Their grip on the boughs relaxed with the\ntrembling of their hands, and even as Kuperee bounded away they lost\ntheir hold and tumbled bodily out of the tree.\n\nIt was not far to the ground, but Pilla happened to fall first, and\nInda fell on top of him, and they managed to hurt each other a good\ndeal.  They were in that excited and over-wrought state when anything\nseems an injury, and each lost his temper.\n\n\"You did that on purpose!\" Pilla said, striking at his brother.  \"Take\nthat!\"\n\n\"Would you!\" said Inda, between his teeth.  \"I'll teach you to hit me!\"\n\nHe stooped and picked up one of the throwing-sticks and flung it at his\nbrother.  It hit Pilla violently on the nose, and made him furiously\nangry.  He gathered an armful of the fallen spears, and, running back,\nthrew them at Inda so swiftly that there was no time to dodge.  They\nhit him all over his body, and though they had all become blunt, they\nhurt very badly.  The blood was streaming from Pilla's nose, and when\nhe had thrown all his spears he stopped to wipe it off with a tuft of\ngrass.  The pause gave them time to think, and they stared at each\nother.  Suddenly they burst out laughing.\n\n\"What fools we are!\" they said.\n\n\"Yes, we are indeed fools,\" said Inda, rubbing his bruises.  \"Kuperee\nmay be back at any moment, and here we will be found, fighting each\nother like a couple of stupid boys.  I am sorry I hurt you, brother.\"\n\n\"You have certainly done that,\" said Pilla, caressing his nose gently.\n\"There will be a dint down my nose for ever--the bone is broken, I\nthink.  Why don't you hit Kuperee as hard as that?\"\n\n\"I will, if I get the chance,\" Inda said.  \"And you yourself are no\nchild when it comes to throwing spears--a good thing for me that they\nwere blunt.  Yes, brother, we are the biggest fools in the Bush.  Now\nwhat are we to do?\"\n\n\"Save yourself!\" screamed Pilla.  \"Here comes Kuperee!\"\n\nThe great kangaroo came bounding back through the bushes, and the\nbrothers, wild with terror, flung themselves at the lightwood tree.  Up\nthey went, but only just in time.  Inda's heel was grazed by Kuperee's\nclaw as he gained the safety of the lower branches.  He climbed up\nswiftly, and, clinging together, they looked down at their foe.\n\n\"He cannot climb!\" gasped Pilla.\n\n\"No, but he will have the tree down!\" cried his brother.\n\nKuperee was flinging himself against the tree, until it rocked beneath\nthe blows of his great body.  Again and again came the dull thud as he\ndrew himself back and came dashing against the trunk.  Gradually it\nyielded, beginning to lean sidewards.  Lower and lower it came, and\nKuperee, rising high on his hind-legs and tail, clawed upward at Inda.\n\nAs the hunter, with a cry of despair, tried to pull himself higher,\nPilla, leaning from an upper branch, thrust something into his hand.\n\n\"It is the stone axe of our father,\" he gasped.  \"Strike with it,\nbrother!\"\n\nInda grasped the handle, and smote downward with all his might.  The\nkeen edge of the stone caught Kuperee in the forehead, and sank into\nhis head.  He fell back, wrenching the axe from Inda's hand.  One more\nterrific roar rent the air--a cry of pain and anger fearful to hear.\nThen, with a dull groan the monster sank sidewards to the grass.  He\nwas dead.\n\nIt was long before Pilla and Inda dared to quit the shelter of the\nleaning tree.  They could scarcely believe that their enemy was dead,\nuntil they saw the mighty limbs stiffen, and beheld a crow perch,\nunmolested, on Kuperee's head.  Then the brothers came down from the\ntree and clasped each other's hands.\n\n\"That was a good blow of yours,\" said Pilla.\n\n\"Ay, but it would never have been struck had you not put the axe into\nmy hands,\" said Inda.  \"I had forgotten all about it.  Our names will\nlive long, brother.\"\n\n\"That will be agreeable, but I wish my nose were not so sore,\" said\nPilla.  \"And your bruises--how are they?\"\n\n\"Sore enough--but I had almost forgotten them.  Ky, but I am hungry,\nPilla!\"\n\n\"I, too,\" said Pilla, looking with interest at the great dead body.\n\"Well, at least we have plenty of food--Burkamukk said long ago that\nKuperee should be enough for the whole tribe.  Let us skin him\ncarefully, for his hide will be a proud trophy to take back to our\nfather--if we can but carry it.\"\n\n\"We shall eat him while it is drying,\" Inda said.  \"Then the skin will\nbe lighter, and we shall be exceedingly strong.  Come, brother--my\nhunger grows worse.\"\n\nThey fell to work on the huge carcass with their sharp skinning-knives,\nmade of the thigh-bones of kangaroos.  And then befel the most\nwonderful thing of all.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nInda and Pilla took off the black hide of Kuperee, and pegged it out\ncarefully with sharp sticks.  Then they came back to the body, and\ntheir eyes glistened with satisfaction.  Meat is the best thing in the\nworld to a blackfellow, and never before had either seen so much meat.\nIt was almost staggering to think that it was theirs, and to be eaten.\nAll they had feared and suffered became as nothing in the prospect of\nthat tremendous feast.\n\n\"Yakai!\" mourned Pilla.  \"We shall never finish it all before it goes\nbad, not though we eat day and night without ceasing--as I mean to do.\"\n\n\"And I also,\" agreed Inda.  \"Let us make ovens before we begin to cut\nhim up--we shall waste less time that way.  Some of him will certainly\ngo bad, but we will do our best.\"\n\nThey were turning aside to gather sticks when Pilla suddenly caught at\nhis brother's arm.  He happened to seize a bruised part, and Inda was\njustly annoyed.\n\n\"Take care, blockhead!\" he said, shaking him off roughly.  \"I ache all\nover--is it not enough for you?\"\n\nPilla took no notice.  He was staring at the skinned body of Kuperee,\nwith eyes that were almost starting from his head.\n\n\"Look!\" he gasped.  \"Look!  He moves!\"\n\nInda leaped to one side.\n\n\"Moves!\" he uttered.  \"Are you mad?\"\n\n\"I saw his side move,\" Pilla repeated.  \"See--there it is again!\"\n\nSomething bulged under the stripped skin of the monster.  The brothers\nleaped backward.\n\n\"But he is certainly dead,\" gasped Inda.  \"Have we not skinned him?\nCan a skinned animal move--even if he be Kuperee?\"\n\n\"Let us leave him and go home,\" muttered Pilla.  \"He is very bad Magic.\"\n\nBut that was more than Inda could bring himself to do.\n\n\"Leave him!\" he exclaimed.  \"Leave the most wonderful feast ever heard\nof in all the Bush!  No, I will not.  Magic or no Magic, he is dead,\nand I will see what moves.\"\n\nHe sprang forward, knife in hand, and with a quick movement slit open\nthe body.  Out popped a head--a black head, with fear and pain and\nbewilderment on its features.  Inda sprang back, raising his knife to\ndefend himself.\n\n\"Let me out!\" begged the head.  \"It is horrible in here--no air, no\nlight, nothing but dead men!  Let me out, I say!\"\n\n\"Are you Magic?\" gasped Inda.\n\n\"Magic?  I?\"  The wild eyes rolled in astonishment.  \"I am Kanalka, of\nthe Crow Tribe, But an hour ago Kuperee swallowed me at a gulp, when he\ncame upon me in the forest.  I do not know why I am not dead--but I\nlive yet, though I was wishing to die when suddenly you let the light\nin to my prison.  Make your hole larger, friend, and let me out.\"\n\n\"Do you say there are dead men there?\" demanded Pilla.\n\n\"He is full of them.  I only am alive, I suppose because I was the last\neaten.  Be quick! be quick!\"\n\nHalf doubting, half afraid, Inda opened the great body, and helped\nKanalka out.  He staggered and fell helplessly to the ground.  Pilla\nand Inda did not trouble about him.  One after another, they took from\nKuperee ten black hunters, laying them in a row upon the grass.  Last\nof all they took out Kon-garn and three others of their own tribe, and\nthey wailed over them.\n\nKanalka, who had somewhat recovered, came and looked curiously at the\nrow of men.\n\n\"Would you not say that they were alive?\" he asked.  \"They do not look\nas though they were anything but asleep.\"\n\n\"I think it is Magic,\" said Inda, very much afraid.  \"Two moons have\ngone by since Kon-garn, who lies there, was eaten, and yet he looks as\nthough asleep.  Kuperee was a strange host, truly, to keep you all in\nsuch good condition!\"\n\nThe gaze of Kanalka wandered to the stone axe of Burkamukk, which lay\non the grass near Kuperee.  Instantly he became interested.  He had\nseen many dead men, but no such axe as this had come his way.\n\n\"Is that the mighty axe of which all the tribes have heard?\" he asked\neagerly.  \"Ky! what a beauty!  Never have I seen such a one!  I should\nlike to handle it.\"\n\nHe picked it up and tested its weight, while Pilla and Inda watched him\ncarefully, for they knew that the axe was a treasure beyond anything in\nthe Bush, and that a man would risk almost anything to possess it.\nThey need not, however, have feared Kanalka.  He was a simple-minded\nfellow, and was merely lost in admiration.\n\n\"A beauty, indeed!\" he exclaimed.  \"It will be something to tell my\npeople, that in the one day I escaped from the body of Kuperee and\nhandled the stone axe of Burkamukk!  Was it with this that you killed\nthe monster?\"\n\n\"Ay,\" said Inda.  \"It clove his skull--one blow was enough, though our\nspears had fallen blunted from his hide.\"\n\n\"A marvel, indeed!\" cried Kanalka.  \"It would be a mighty weapon at\nclose quarters in a fight.  One would swing it round--thus--and bring\nit down upon the enemy's head----\"\n\nHe illustrated his meaning, swinging the axe aloft and bringing it down\nover the head of the silent form of Kon-garn.  Just before it reached\nthe head he checked it, letting it do no more than touch Kon-garn--a\ntouch no heavier than the sweep of a butterfly's wing.\n\nKon-garn yawned, sneezed, and sat up.\n\nWith a yell of terror the three blacks started backwards, tripped over\neach other, and fell in a heap.  Kon-garn surveyed the struggling mass\ncalmly.\n\n\"Where am I?\" he asked.  \"And what is all this about?  Is it you, Pilla\nand Inda?\"\n\nThey struggled to their feet and looked at him distrustfully.\n\n\"You are dead,\" said Pilla firmly.  \"Why do you talk?\"\n\n\"I do not know why, indeed, since it is evident that I am talking to\nfools,\" said Kon-garn rudely.  \"What has happened to you, that you and\nthis stranger have suddenly gone mad?  Ky! how hungry I am!  Have you\nfood?\"\n\nThe brothers suddenly began to laugh helplessly.\n\n\"Food!\" said Inda.  \"There is more food than ever you saw before,\nKon-garn, and a few minutes ago you were part of it.\"\n\n\"That is a riddle I am too tired to guess,\" said Kon-garn crossly.  \"I\nonly wish that any food were part of me, for I feel as though I had\nnever eaten in my life.\"\n\n\"It is certainly two moons at least since last you ate,\" Pilla told him.\n\n\"I said already that you were mad, and I grow more sure of it every\nminute,\" said poor Kon-garn.  \"Who are these who lie beside me?\"\n\n\"They are dead men; and a moment ago you too were dead,\" Inda said.\n\nKon-garn became afraid, as well as cross.  It was clear that everybody\nwas mad, and he had heard that it was wise to humour mad people, or\nthey might do you an injury.  So he hid his feelings and looked at the\nbrothers as kindly as his bewilderment and hunger would let him.\n\n\"Dead, was I?\" he said.  \"Then how did I come to life?\"\n\n\"This man touched you with the stone axe of Burkamukk,\" Inda answered.\n\n\"Dear me, how simple!\" said Kon-garn.  \"None of our Meki-gar know\nanything half so easy.  But why does he not go on, and bring all these\nother dead men to life too?\"\n\n\"Indeed,\" said Kanalka suddenly, \"I do not know.\"\n\nHe flung himself upon the stone axe, which he had let fall in his\nterror, and touched another still form with it.  Instantly the black\nhunter came to life.  Kanalka uttered a wild yell of amazement and\ntriumph.  Then Inda snatched the axe from him and ran along the line,\ntouching one man after another; and when he had come to the end there\nwere ten blackfellows sitting up and rubbing their eyes, and most of\nthem were asking eagerly for food.  The brothers drew back a few paces\nand looked at them.\n\n\"It is clear,\" said Pilla, \"that Kuperee was Magic, and that when our\nfather's stone axe entered his skull it became Magic too.  More than\never we must guard it carefully, since it seems to have the power of\nlife and death.\"  He lowered his voice, speaking to Inda.  \"I will lash\nit to your shoulders, brother--we are among strangers, and it will be\nsafer so.\"\n\nHe lashed the axe to Inda's shoulders firmly, and the other men looked\non.  Each knew exactly why he was doing it, and respected him for his\ncaution, since each knew that had chance thrown in his way the mighty\nstone axe he would not have been proof against the temptation of trying\nto get possession of it.  Then they all talked together, and were very\namazed at what had happened to them; but since they were able to put\neverything down to Magic, nothing worried them much, and they were\nquite relieved to find themselves alive, and to think of seeing their\nwives and children again.  More than anything, they were overjoyed at\nthe magnificent feast that awaited them.\n\nAnd what a feast it was!  Never again in all their lives did such a\nchance come to them.  The wild black never asked for any trimmings with\nhis food: he would, indeed, eat anything that came his way, but meat,\nmeat only, and still more meat, was what his soul most desired.  And\nnow meat awaited them, in a huge mountain; and they were hungry beyond\nbelief.\n\n\"We will cut up Kuperee,\" said Pilla and Inda, \"since we alone have\nknives.  The rest of you must make fire, and prepare ovens.\"\n\nThe men scattered to their tasks.  Some gathered sticks; others scooped\nout holes in the ground for the ovens; others teased dry messmate bark\nfor tinder for the man who was making the fire.  This was Kon-garn, and\nhe did it very quickly.  Pilla lent him one of his most useful\nhousehold necessaries, which he always carried with him--a piece of dry\ngrass-tree cane, having a hole bored through to the pith on its upper\nside, and a pointed piece of soft wood; and these were just as useful\nto the blacks as a box of matches would be to you.  Kon-garn sat down\non the ground, holding the bit of grass-tree firmly down with his feet,\nand pressed the point of the soft wood into the little hole.  Then he\nheld it upright between his palms and twirled it rapidly.  Within two\nminutes smoke began to curl round the twirling point, and another man\ncarefully put some teased bark, soft and dry, round the hole and blew\non it.  A moment more and a thin tongue of flame licked through the\ntinder; more and more was fed to it, and then leaves and twigs; and in\nfive minutes there was a blazing fire, while Kon-garn restored to Pilla\nhis two flame-making sticks, very little the worse for wear.\n\nThe blacks did not usually light a large fire, after the fashion of\nwhite men, who like to make a campfire so big that they roast their\nfaces while their backs remain cold.  The way the blacks preferred was\nto make two little fires, and to sit between them, so that they were\nkept warm on both sides.  But on this occasion they made a very big\nblaze, so that they should quickly have enough fire to heat the ovens;\nand then they made the big fire long and narrow, so that they could sit\non each side of it and cook.  While the ovens were getting hot they\ntook small pieces of the Kangaroo meat and speared them on green\nsticks, holding them before the coals.  They were all so desperately\nhungry that they did not care much whether the meat was properly\ncooked--as soon as the first pieces were warmed through they stuffed\nthem into their mouths, and then ran to Pilla and Inda for more.  Pilla\nand Inda were working hard at cutting up Kuperee, and though they did\nnot mind the hungry men beginning without them, they became annoyed\nwhen they came again and again for fragments.\n\n\"Do not forget that we are hungry too,\" Pilla growled.  \"We have\ntravelled far before we killed Kuperee and let you all out, and now we\nare cutting up your meat for you.  If you do not bring us some cooked\npieces we must go and cook for ourselves.\"\n\nThat made the others afraid, for the cutting-up of so huge an animal as\nKuperee was no light work, and none of them had knives.  So they fed\nthe brothers with toothsome morsels as they worked, and the cutting\nwent on unchecked, until the ovens were hot and there was a pile of\njoints ready to be put in.  This was done, wrapping the joints in green\nleaves.  Then they carried to the fire the great heap of small pieces\nof meat left from the cutting-up, and cooked and ate, and ate and\ncooked, all through the night.\n\nEven in ordinary life it would have astonished you to see how much meat\na black could eat--a well-fed blackfellow, with a wife who kept his\nwurley well supplied with roots and grubs and all the other pleasant\nthings they loved.  But these blacks had had no food, some of them for\nweeks, and it seemed that they would never stop.  The great pile of\npieces dwindled until there were none left, and then they hacked more\noff, and cooked and ate until the ovens were ready and the smoking\njoints came out.  They were so hot that you would not have cared to\ntouch them without a knife and fork; but the blacks seized them and\ntore them to pieces and gnawed them, until nothing remained but\nwell-picked bones.  And then they cooked more.\n\nPilla and Inda were the first to give in, and they had eaten enough for\ntwenty white men.  They waddled off to a thicket and flung themselves\nunder a bush, sleeping back to back, so that the stone axe of Burkamukk\nwas safe between them.  But the others had no thought for anything but\nKangaroo, and even the mighty axe could not have tempted them from that\ntremendous gorge.  They ate on, all through the day.  Towards night\nsome of them gave in; then, one by one, they could eat no more, and\nmost of them went to sleep where they sat before the fire.  But dawn on\nthe next day showed the steadfast Kon-garn, rotund beyond belief, and\neating still.  And by that time Pilla and Inda had slept off their\nlight repast, and were ready to begin all over again.\n\nThey camped for more than a week by the carcass of Kuperee, and ate it\nuntil it was no longer pleasant to eat, even for a blackfellow.  Then\nthey began to think it was time to return to their tribes.  So they\ngreased their bodies comfortably all over, and set off through the\nforest, a peaceful and happy band, far too well-fed to think of\nquarrelling.  When they came near the head-quarters of each tribe they\nmarched to its camp in a proud procession, returning the warriors who\nhad been mourned as dead: and great were the rejoicings throughout the\ncountry, and rich rewards of furs and weapons and food were showered\nupon Inda and Pilla.  The stone axe of Burkamukk became more famous\nthan ever, and every one wanted to look at the wonderful weapon that\nhad slain Kuperee.  Songs were made about the two heroes, and for ages\nafterwards mothers used to tell their children about them, and hope\nthat their boys would be as brave as Burkamukk's sons.\n\nAt last they drew near to their own camp.  They halted the night before\na few hours' journey away, and by good luck they met a couple of boys\nout hunting, and sent them in to tell the tribe that they were coming.\nThey had no idea of coming in unheralded, for they knew they had done a\ngreat deed, and they meant to return in state.  Besides, although the\nrescued men were with them, the load of presents they had received was\nfar too heavy to be carried comfortably.\n\nThey got up early and painted themselves in stripes and put on their\nfinest feathers and furs.  Inda carried the stone axe of Burkamukk, and\nPilla had only a spear.  Long before they were ready to start they were\nmet by some of the men of the tribe who had come out to welcome them.\nThese loaded themselves with the gifts, and with Pilla and Inda\nstalking in front, and the rescued men behind, they formed themselves\ninto a procession and marched for home.\n\nNear the camp another procession came out to meet them: Burkamukk,\ntheir father, marching at the head of all his tribe.  First came the\nMeki-gar, very solemn, and inwardly very disgusted that the honour of\nslaying Kuperee had not fallen to them; then came all the warriors and\nthe old men, then the boys, and lastly the women and children.  They\nwere shouting greetings and praises and singing songs of welcome.\nBurkamukk halted as his sons drew near.  They came up to him and knelt\nbefore him and Inda laid the stone axe at his feet.\n\n\"We bring you back your mighty weapon, my father,\" he said.  \"It has\nslain your enemy.\"\n\nThen all the tribe shouted afresh, and the warriors leaped in the air,\nand the whole country was filled with the sound of their rejoicings.\nAnd they bore Pilla and Inda home in triumph, naming them the most\nfamous heroes of all the tribes of the Bush.\n\nBut the Magic of Kuperee was not done with them yet.\n\nThey feasted late that night, and the sun was high overhead before they\nwoke next day.  They were in a wurley by themselves, but outside the\nboys of the tribe were clustered, peeping in to see the mighty\nwarriors.  Pilla stretched himself, and flung out an arm, which struck\nInda.\n\n\"Take care!\" Inda said, angrily, waking up.  \"You hurt me.\"\n\n\"Why, I hardly touched you,\" Pilla answered.  \"You must have been\ndreaming.\"\n\n\"Well, it is no dream that I am very sore,\" said Inda.  \"All my body\nseems covered with bruises, just as it was after our fight under the\ntree of Kuperee.\"\n\n\"That is queer,\" said Pilla, \"for my nose also feels terribly sore.\nThat must have been a mighty blow that you dealt it.\"  He felt it\ntenderly.  \"It feels queer, too.  Does it look curious?\"\n\n\"There is a furrow down it, but then there always has been, since our\nfight,\" said Inda.  \"You look not much worse than usual.  But I--see,\nis there anything wrong with me?\"\n\nHe flung off his wallaby-skin rug, and sat up.  Pilla uttered a cry.\n\n\"Ky! you are all over spots!  Did I really hit you in all those places?\"\n\n\"You must have done so,\" said Inda, crossly.  \"Lucky for me that the\nspears were blunt!\"\n\n\"I feel most extraordinary,\" said Pilla, suddenly \"It is just as though\nI were shrinking--and indeed, I have no cause to shrink, seeing how\nmuch I ate last night.  But my skin is getting all loose.\"\n\n\"And mine too!\" cried Inda, faintly.  \"There is Magic at work upon us,\nmy brother!\"\n\nThen a mist drifted over the wurley, and strange cries came out of it.\nThe boys, watching outside, clutched at each other in fear.  And\npresently, when the mist blew away, Pilla and Inda were not to be seen,\nnor were they ever seen more.  Instead, within the wurley crouched two\nlittle animals, new to the blacks, which uttered faint squeaks and\nscurried away through the camp into the Bush.\n\nThere they live now, and through them are the sons of Burkamukk\nremembered.  Pilla is the plump 'possum, who has always a furrow down\nhis nose; and Inda is the native-cat, whose skin is covered all over\nwith spots.  For the Magic of Kuperee lived after him, so that the\nblunt weapons that had struck him had strange power, just as there was\npower of life in the stone axe that had killed him.  But though they\nlived no longer as men, the names of Pilla and Inda were always held in\ngreat honour, since through their courage and wisdom the tribes lived\nin security, free from the wickedness of Kuperee.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nWAUNG, THE CROW\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nVery long ago--so long that the oldest blacks could not remember\nanything about it themselves--there was a legend of the first coming of\nFire.\n\nFire came with a group of seven strange women, the Kar-ak-ar-ook, who\nbrought it from some unknown country.  They dwelt with the blacks, and\nshowed them how to use the new and wonderful thing: but they were very\nselfish, and would give none away.  Instead, they kept it in the end of\ntheir yam-sticks, and when the people begged for it, they only laughed\nat them.  They alone knew how to make it, and they never told the\nsecret to anyone.\n\nSo the blacks took counsel together.\n\n\"We might as well have never learned that there was Fire at all,\" said\none.\n\n\"Better,\" said another.  \"Before it came, we were content: but now,\nevery one is sighing for it, and cannot get it.\"\n\n\"My wife is a weariness to me,\" said a third.  \"Always she pesters me\nto bring Fire to her, and makes my mouth water by telling me of the\nbeautiful food she could cook if she had it.  It is almost enough to\nmake a man lose his appetite!\"\n\n\"But who that has once tasted cooked food can ever forget it?\" another\nsaid, licking his lips.  \"Such flavour!  Such juiciness!  Twice the\nKar-ak-ar-ook gave Fire to my wife, and let her roast wallaby and\nsnipe--and since those glorious meals it is hard to eat them raw.\"\n\n\"Ay, that is so,\" said one.  \"To my woman also, they gave Fire twice,\nand she cooked me wombat and iguana.  Ky! how much I ate, and how sick\nI was afterwards!  But it was worth it.\"\n\n\"And fish!\" said another.  \"No one who eats raw fish can imagine what a\ndifference Fire makes to it.  It is indeed a wonderful thing.  The\nfirst time I saw it, I picked it up, admiring its pretty colour, and it\nstung me severely.  In my wrath I kicked it, but its sting was still\nthere, and it gave me a very sore foot.  Now I know that it is Magic,\nand must not be touched, save with a stick--and then the stick becomes\npart of it.  It is all very curious.\"\n\n\"It is worse than curious that such a thing should be, and be held only\nby the power of women,\" said an old man, angrily.  \"If we had fire, the\nwinter cold would not strike so keenly to old bones.  Why should we\nsubmit to these women, the Kar-ak-ar-ook?  Let us kill them, if\nnecessary, and take it from them for ourselves.\"\n\nBut no one moved, and all looked uneasy.\n\n\"The women are Magic,\" said one, at length.  \"The magic-men know that.\"\n\n\"Yes, and the women's Magic is stronger than theirs,\" another answered.\n\"They have weaved spells, but what good have they done?\"\n\n\"Now, they say that unless they let some Fire drop by accident, we can\nnever get it from them: and if they do let it fall, then they will be\njust like other women, and have no power at all.  I would like to see\nthat!\" said a big fellow, eagerly.  \"It would be very good for them,\nand they would make useful wives for some of us, for they know all\nabout cooking food.  I would not mind marrying one of them myself!\" he\nadded, in a patronizing tone, at which everybody laughed.\n\nAnother big man spoke.  His name was Waung, and he was tall and\npowerful.\n\n\"It is all very ridiculous,\" he said.  \"No woman lives in the world who\ncan get the better of a man.  I have half a mind to get Fire from them\nmyself.\"\n\n\"You!\" said the others, and they all joined in roars of laughter.  For\nWaung was a lazy man, and had never done much good for himself.  \"You!\nYou would go to sleep instead of finding a way to get the better of the\nKar-ak-ar-ook!\"\n\nThis made Waung very angry.\n\n\"You are all fools!\" he said, rudely.  \"I will certainly take the\ntrouble to get Fire, and will make one of the women my wife, and she\nshall cook in my wurley.  But then I will have their Magic, and none of\nyou will get any Fire from me, of that you may be sure.  Then you will\nall be sorry!\"  But this only made the men laugh more, and the noise of\ntheir mirth set the laughing-jackasses shouting in the trees.  Very\nseldom had the camp heard so fine a joke.\n\nWaung was filled with fury.  He strode away from them, with his head in\nthe air, shouting fierce threats.  No one took the least notice of\nthem, because he was known to be a boaster and a talker; but it was\nvery amusing to see him go, and the blacks were always glad of a chance\nfor laughter.  Even after Waung had gone into his wurley, he could hear\nthe echo of their merriment; and whenever two or three went past, they\nwere still talking about him and laughing.  \"A pity Waung is such a\nfool!\" they said.  \"But perhaps it is as well, for if there were no\nfools we would not have such good jokes!\"  And that did not make Waung\nfeel any better.\n\nNext day he went to the Kar-ak-ar-ook's wurley, and met them going out\nto dig for yams.  Their dilly-bags were on their shoulders; and they\nheld their yam-sticks, and he could see Fire gleaming in the hollow\ntops.  Waung looked at the digging ends of the sticks, and saw that\nthey were very blunt.  He said: \"I will sharpen your yam-sticks for\nyou.\"\n\nThe Kar-ak-ar-ook thanked him, with a twinkle in their eyes.  They knew\nthere was some reason for such politeness from Waung.  So they held the\nyam-sticks for him to cut, and though once or twice he tried to make\nthem fall, as if by accident, so long as they had even a finger upon\nthem they did not move.  So Waung realized that Fire was not to be\nobtained in that way.  When he had finished the points, he stood up.\n\n\"I am sick of the tribe,\" he said, angrily.  \"They are silly people,\nand they turn me into a joke.  If you like, I will come out and help\nyou to get food--and, I can tell you, I know where to hunt.  Will you\nhunt with me?\"\n\nNow the Kar-ak-ar-ook were suspicious of Waung, but they were lazy\nwomen.  It did not amuse them at all to go hunting by themselves every\nday, for they were not clever at it, and it took them a long time to\nfind enough game to cook.  Moreover, they were fond of food, and never\nhad enough.  They knew that no one could take away their yam-sticks so\nlong as they held them; and so they were not afraid of Waung.\n\n\"Perhaps what you say is true,\" one answered slowly.  \"At any rate, I\ndo not care.  You may come with me if you wish, and sometimes we will\ngive you some cooked food.\"\n\nSo the camp got used to the sight of Waung and the women going out to\nhunt together; and after a while they forgot that they used to laugh at\nthem, and they had to find another joke.  They envied Waung very much\nif they saw him eating scraps of cooked meat given him by the women:\nand you may be sure that Waung did not give any scraps away.  He became\nquite good friends with the women, though they were always suspicious\nof him, and gave him no chance of handling their yam-sticks.  The fire\nin the hollow tops never went out.  Waung could not guess how they\nmanaged to keep it alive there, and it puzzled him very much.  But he\nnever forgot that he had vowed to take it from them, and he made many\nplans that came to nothing, because the Kar-ak-ar-ook were always\nwatchful.\n\nAt last Waung hit upon an idea.  Out in the scrub he found a nest of\nyoung snakes, and these he managed to tame, for he was a very cunning\nman.  Even when they were nearly full-grown they would do his bidding,\nand he taught them many queer tricks.  Then he went in search of an\nant-hill, and sought until he found a very large one.  For the\nKar-ak-ar-ook had told him that they loved ants' eggs more than any\nkind of food.\n\nOne night, Waung took his snakes, and buried them in the ant-hill,\nsaying, \"Stay there until I send to let you out.\"  They looked at him\nwith their fierce, beady eyes, and wriggled round until they made\nthemselves nests in the soft earth, which caused the ants very great\ninconvenience and alarm.  Then Waung covered them up and went home,\ntaking the Kar-ak-ar-ook a little kangaroo-rat that he had killed.\n\nThe women were hungry, and the sight of Waung's offering did not please\nthem.\n\n\"It is very small,\" they said, discontentedly.  \"What is the matter\nwith you?  You have brought us scarcely any food for three days.\"\n\nWaung laughed, swinging his spear.\n\n\"Hunting has been bad,\" he said, carelessly.  \"I have been lazy,\nperhaps--or the game was scarce.  But I have a treat for you to-morrow.\"\n\n\"What is that?\" they asked, eagerly, looking up from skinning the\nkangaroo-rat.\n\n\"What would you say to ants' eggs?\"\n\n\"We like them more than anything else,\" they cried.  \"Have you found\nsome?\"\n\n\"I have found a very big hill,\" Waung said.  \"It should be full of\neggs.\"\n\n\"And you will take us there?\"\n\nWaung did not want to seem too eager.  He hesitated.\n\n\"I do not want the eggs,\" he said, at length.  \"A man wants something\nhe can bite--eggs are for women.  But will you cook me a wallaby if I\ntake you there?\"\n\n\"Where is the wallaby?\" asked the Kar-ak-ar-ook.\n\n\"I have not caught it yet.  But I have set a snare in a track I\nknow--and while you dig ants' eggs I have no doubt I can get one.  That\ndoes not matter, however--I can get one some time.  Will you cook it\nfor me, if I show you the ants' nest?\"\n\nThe Kar-ak-ar-ook promised, for the temptation of the ants' eggs was\nvery strong.  They ate all the kangaroo-rat, and found it quite too\nsmall for their appetites: so they went to sleep hungry, and were still\nhungrier when they awoke in the morning.  They had only a few yams for\nbreakfast, and so they were very eager to start when Waung sauntered up\nto their wurley.\n\nThey all went a little way into the Bush, and then came upon the great\nant-hill.  At the sight, the Kar-ak-ar-ook ran forward, with their\nsticks ready to dig.\n\nWaung said:\n\n\"I will go on to my snare, and come back to you.\"\n\nBut he went slowly.  The women had not taken any notice of what he\nsaid.  They plunged their yam-sticks into the hill, and began throwing\nout the earth quickly.  Then they uttered a loud scream, for the snakes\ncame tumbling out of the loosened earth and ran this way and that,\nhissing fiercely--and some ran at them.\n\nWaung turned back at their cries.\n\n\"Hit them with your sticks!\" he shouted.  \"Kill them.\"\n\nThe Kar-ak-ar-ook hit furiously at the snakes with the pointed end of\ntheir yam-sticks.  But a stiff, pointed stick is not much use for\nkilling snakes, as Waung well knew, and he called to them roughly:\n\n\"That is no good--use the thick ends!\"\n\nThe women swung their sticks round at his cry, and brought the thick\nends down across the snakes' backs.  The blows were so strong that many\nof the snakes were killed at once--but that was not the only thing that\nhappened.  Fire flew out of the hollow ends of the sticks, and, in\ngreat coals, rolled down the side of the ant-hill.  The coals met and\njoined, so that they were all one very large coal.\n\nWaung had been watching like a cat.  He had picked up two flat pieces\nof green stringy-bark; and now he leaped forward, snapped up Fire\nbetween them, and fled.  Behind him came the Kar-ak-ar-ook, screaming.\nBut as Waung stole the Fire, their Magic left them, and they were\nhelpless.\n\nThen Bellin-Bellin, the Musk-Crow, who carries the whirlwind in his\nbag, heard the voice of Pund-jel speaking to him out of the clouds,\ncommanding him to let loose his burden.  So Bellin-Bellin, obedient,\nbut greatly afraid, untied the strings of his bag, and the whirlwind\nleapt out with a wild rush.  It caught the Kar-ak-ar-ook, and whirled\nthem up into the sky, where you may still see them, clustered together,\nfor they were turned into stars.  Now they are called the Pleiades, or\nSeven Sisters.  But the blacks know that they are the Kar-ak-ar-ook\nwomen, and that they live together in the sky, still carrying Fire on\nthe ends of their yam-sticks.\n\n[Illustration: \"It caught the Kar-ak-ar-ook and whirled them up into\nthe sky.\"]\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nWaung went proudly back to the tribe, and when they saw that he had\nactually stolen Fire from the women, they were both glad and\nastonished, and clustered round him, calling him many pleasant things.\nWaung was quite ready to listen to them; but he had no intention of\nbeing generous now that he had brought Fire with him.  He saw his way\nto a lazy life, and he was not the man to lose such a good chance.\n\nSo after they had praised him very loudly and sung loud songs about his\nbravery and wit, he went off into his wurley, and put Fire in a hole in\nthe ground.  Then he sat in the doorway and carved a boomerang.\n\nThe people looked at each other, not knowing what to do next.\n\n\"How is this?\" they said.  \"Will he not give Fire to us all?\"\n\nNo one could answer this question.  They chattered together for a\nwhile.  Then one said, \"What is worth having is worth asking for\"; and\nhe went up to Waung's wurley and greeted him civilly.\n\n\"Good-day, Waung,\" he said.  \"Will you give me some fire to do my\ncooking?\"\n\n\"I have only enough for myself,\" said Waung, and went on with his\ncarving.\n\n\"But Fire grows, if you will let it,\" said the man.  \"Will you not make\nit grow, so that each of us may have some?\"\n\n\"I cannot spare any,\" was all that Waung would answer.  So the man went\nback to his friends, and told them what Waung said.  Then one after\nanother came to Waung, and begged him for a little bit of Fire.  But\nthe reply was always the same, and they went away, very sorry that they\nhad ever laughed at Waung.  For now he remembered the laughter, and he\ndetermined to have his revenge.\n\nIn the morning, when the tribe was astir they found that Waung had made\na very large oven in front of his wurley, and had hid Fire there.  Also\nhe had caught a wallaby in his snare, and all the air was full of the\nfragrant smell of cooking.  It made all the people's mouths water, and\nthey hated Waung exceedingly.  But they feared that with the\nKar-ak-ar-ook's Fire Waung had also captured their Magic, and so they\ndid not dare to attack him.\n\nSo they held a council together, and all talked very fast and angrily:\nbut at the end of it, there was nothing accomplished.  Talking did not\nmend the matter at all, and against Magic, what could anyone do?  Then\na woman came running, and said she had a message, and though women were\nnot supposed to speak in council, she was told to deliver it at once.\n\n\"Waung says he will cook our food!\" said she, and stopped for breath.\nA great shout of joy went up from the men.\n\n\"But he will not do it for nothing,\" went on the woman.  At this all\ntheir faces lengthened suddenly.  The blacks stopped in the middle of\ntheir joyful shout, and waited with their mouths wide open to hear what\nwas to follow.\n\n\"He says he will cook for us.  But we are to supply him with food, and\nfirewood, and all that he wants, and he will keep for himself all the\nfood he likes best.  And if we do not perform all that he tells us to\ndo, he will take Fire away altogether.\"\n\nThere was silence when the woman had finished speaking, and then a deep\ngroan of anger went up from the people.  They all talked very fast\nagain, each trying to speak more loudly than the others, all except the\nhusband of the woman who had brought the news, and he was busy beating\nher with his waddy because she had brought so insolent a message, and\nhad allowed them to think at first that it was good news.  The poor\nlubra tried to say that they had not given her time to say it all at\nonce, but the husband was too busy to listen.  But neither talking nor\nbeating made the matter any better.\n\nSo Waung became the real ruler of the tribe, in everything but name,\nsince food is the most important thing in the world to the blacks, and\nthe greater part of their food became dependent upon him.  Nothing\ncould be cooked unless Waung would do it, and they soon found that\nunless he were in a good temper he would not do it at all.  He took the\nbest parts of all that they brought to him to cook, so that no man knew\nwhat he would get back; and when one took a fat young wallaby or a\nblack duck it was quite likely that Waung would give him something\ntough and stringy when he went back for his cooked meal, declaring that\nit was what he had left in his oven.  Neither would he take any trouble\nover the cooking.  The people brought their food, and put it in the\noven themselves, and Waung took it out when it pleased him.  Sometimes\nhe did not take it out until it was burned black and tasteless, while\nat others they would find it only half-cooked, and cold.  But no amount\nof talking would make Waung alter his ways, and at last he became so\nproud that if anyone argued with him he would refuse to cook for a\nweek, except for himself.  This naturally stopped all argument in the\ncamp, but it did not make the people love Waung any better.\n\nHe grew very fat and lazy, for he ate huge quantities of food, and very\nseldom went out of his wurley.  When he did, he carried Fire with him\nin a little hollow stick, and no one dared go near him, or near his\nwurley, for fear of his enchantments.  As a matter of fact, Waung had\nno enchantments at all, and no Magic.  But he was very cunning, and he\nknew how easy it was to make the blacks think he had amazing powers.\nThe magic-men, too, found that none of their spells had any effect upon\nWaung, and so they told the tribe that he certainly had magic help.  It\nwas very convenient to be able to say this when they were beaten, for\nMagic was a thing that could not possibly be argued about.\n\nThe months went by, and the people became very unhappy.  Waung's evil\ntemper made them all miserable and afraid.  There have been many bad\nkings in history, but only Waung ever had the power of depriving all\nhis people of their dinner, if they failed to please him.  It is a very\nterrible punishment when it is inflicted often, especially when dinner\nis the only meal of the day.  Now that the people had grown used to\ncooked food, they did not like raw meat; so they depended on Waung's\nmercy.  And Waung had very little mercy.  It amused him greatly to see\nthe people hungry and to have them come begging to him to cook their\nfood.  He would laugh loud and long, reminding them of the time when\nthey had jeered at him about Fire.  Afterwards, he would go into his\nwurley and sleep, saying, \"Fire is asleep to-day, and I cannot wake it.\"\n\nAt last, Pund-jel, Maker of Men, looked down at the world and saw how\nunhappy the blacks were under the cruelties of Waung.  It made him very\nangry.  He was stern and hard himself, but he saw no reason why this\nfellow, lazy and ill-natured, should make his people hungry and\nmiserable.  So he sent a message to the ear of each man in the tribe,\ntelling him what to do.\n\nThe blacks thought they had dreamed the message.  They woke in the\nmorning, confused and angry, they hardly knew why; and each man said to\nhis neighbour, \"I have dreamed about Waung,\" and the other would\nanswer, \"I, too, have dreamed about him.\"  They gathered into groups,\ntalking about Waung and about the dream that had come to them; and then\nthe groups began to drift towards Waung's wurley.\n\nWaung looked out, and saw them coming.  At once he became uneasy, for\nhe knew that he had never seen such threatening faces and angry eyes.\nIt made him afraid, and he began to put Fire to heat his oven, which\nhad been cold for five days.\n\nThe blacks came close to the wurley, growling and muttering.  They\ncircled round, still half-afraid.  Then one, suddenly becoming brave,\nshouted a word of angry abuse at Waung; and that was all the others\nwanted.  They joined the first man in loud and threatening shouts and\nfierce abuse, casting at him every evil name they could think of, and\nsaying that the time had come for him to answer for his bad deeds.\nThen one picked up a stone and flung it at him, hitting him on the\nshoulder.\n\nWaung had no weapons outside his wurley.  He became terrified, gazing\nround him with hopeless eyes that saw no way of escape.  Then he\nstooped to his oven, and saw that Fire lay there in a mass of red coals.\n\n\"I will give you back Fire!\" he shouted.\n\nHe thrust a flat stone into the coals, and with it flung Fire far and\nwide among the blacks.  Some of it hit the men and burned them, as he\nhoped, but others picked it up and ran with it to their wurleys, so\nthat they might never again be without it in their homes.  To and fro\nin the air the burning pieces flew as Waung hurled them from him.  So\nfast they fell that the people were almost afraid again.  It seemed as\nthough Waung were making Fire, so that he might fight them with it.\n\nAnd then a strange thing happened.\n\nAll the coals that had fallen in the dry grass nearest the wurley\nturned and began to burn back towards Waung.  They met in a circle of\nflame.  Gradually it burned until it came to the wurley, and there it\nwrapped Waung, and his oven, and all that belonged to him, in a sheet\nof flame.  Out of it came Waung's dreadful cries for help; but no man\ndared go near the fire, nor would anyone have lifted a finger to help\nWaung.\n\nThe people huddled together, watching, in great fear.  Soon the cries\nceased, and then the smoke and flame died away, so that they saw the\nbody of Waung, lying across the stones of his oven.  He was quite\nblack, like a cinder.  The tribe uttered a long shout of triumph, for\nthey knew that he could trouble them no more.\n\nThen they heard the voice of Pund-jel, speaking to the thing that lay\nacross the stones.\n\n\"Fire has made you black,\" said the voice.  \"Now you shall be black for\never, and no longer a man.  Instead, you shall be a crow, to fly about\nfor ever and utter cries, so that when the people see you they will\nremember how they were foolishly in bondage to you and your cruelties.\"\n\nThe people cast themselves down, in terror at the voice.  A drifting\ncloud of smoke floated from the smouldering ashes of the wurley and\nblotted everything out.\n\nWhen they looked again, it had lifted, and blown away into the skies.\nThe thing that had lain on the stones was no longer there.  But from\nthe limb of a boobyalla tree close by came a harsh croak and, looking,\nthey saw a big black crow that flapped its wings, and looked at them\nwith sullen eyes.  Then it said, \"Waa-a-a!  Waa-a-a-a!\" and, rising\nfrom the tree, it flew lazily across to a great blackbutt, where it\nperched on the topmost bough, still croaking evilly.  And the people,\nglad, yet afraid, clustered together, muttering, \"See!  It is Waung!\"\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE EMU WHO WOULD DANCE\n\nLong ago, Kari, the Emu, was superior to all other birds.  She was so\nsuperior that she would not live on the earth.  Instead, she had a home\nup in the clouds, and from there she used to look down at the earth and\nthe queer antics of all the things that lived there.  It gave her much\nfood for thought.\n\nAt that time there were no human beings at all.  All the earth was\ninhabited by animals, birds, and reptiles, and they lived very happily\ntogether, as a rule.  There were no wars, and every one had enough to\neat.  While there were no men, Fear did not live on earth either.  All\nthe world was a big feeding-ground, where even the smallest and weakest\ncould find a peaceful home.\n\nKari, sitting in her great nest up in the clouds, watched the animals\nbelow, both night and day.  She thought them strange creatures, and\nwondered very much how they could be so contented with so many other\ncreatures about them.  She was so used to living alone that it seemed\nto her rather unpleasant to have one's solitude broken upon by others,\nall of whom might be peculiar enough to think their little affairs as\ninteresting as one's own.  Kari thought that nothing could possibly be\nso interesting as her great lonely nest in the clouds.  In reality, it\nwas a very dull old nest, and she was a big, dull bird.  She knew no\none, and spoke to no one, and thought only her own queer thoughts.  But\nshe did not know she was dull, and so she was quite happy.\n\nOne day she sat in her nest, watching the cloud-masses drift about\nbetween her and the world.  They cleared away after a while, and she\nlooked down upon a great forest over which she found herself, for, as\nher nest was in a cloud, it used to float about, and so she never knew\nwhat country she might see when she looked down.  Sometimes it was a\nlake, sometimes a mountain, and sometimes the great, rolling sea, which\nalways made her feel rather giddy, because it would not keep still for\na moment.\n\nBut on this day it was a wide forest, green and peaceful.  Kari's sight\nwas very keen, and she looked through the tree-tops to the ground below\nand saw all the animals.  It was really almost as good as a circus, but\nthen Kari knew nothing about such a thing as a circus.  She watched\nthem with great interest, leaning her long neck over the edge of the\ncloud in which her nest was built.\n\nSuddenly she saw a sight that made her lean forward so far that she\nvery nearly overbalanced and fell out.  Far below her was an open space\nnear a bright spot that she knew was water in a little swampy place in\na hollow.  The grass there was green and soft; there were trees all\nround it, and it was a very secluded place, except for anyone looking\nfrom above, like the inquisitive Kari.\n\nBut Kari was not looking only at green grass and shining water.  She\nsaw a little group of birds that had come out of the swamp, where they\nhad been wading, and had begun to dance.  They were Native\nCompanions--Puralkas--but Kari did not know that.  All she knew was\nthat they were very beautiful creatures, the most beautiful, she\nthought, that she had ever seen: and they were doing the most\ninteresting things.\n\nVery gracefully they danced to and fro on the patch of green grass.\nThey were tall, slim birds, looking a kind of dim grey colour when seen\nso far away.  Their legs were very long and thin, for they belonged to\nthe tribe of birds called Waders, who get their food by walking in\nswamps and morasses, and they had neat bodies, not fluffy like some of\nKari's own feathers--with which she immediately felt very dissatisfied.\nTheir queer thin heads, with long beaks, were carried on long necks,\nwhich twisted about as they danced.  They pranced up and down, giving\nlittle runs backwards and forwards, marching and stepping in the most\ncurious manner.  Never had Kari seen so charming a sight.  It made her\nsuddenly envious.  Until now, she had regarded all the animals and\nbirds as so much beneath her in every way that it never occurred to her\nto wish to be like them, or to do anything that they did.  But this was\nthe first time that she had seen the Native Companions dance.\n\nKari's cloud drifted away presently, and she could no longer see the\nqueer grey company of long-legged birds prancing on the green spot in\nthe forest.  But nothing that now came within her sight interested her\nat all.  She saw the lyre-birds building their mounds in the Bush, and\nmaking them gay with all sorts of odd things: bright stones, bits of\nquartz, gay feathers; and they also danced on their mounds, but it did\nnot please Kari as much as the dance of the Puralkas.  The moon showed\nher the animals that come out at night--wombat, wallaby, wild dogs, and\nopossums; native bears climbing up the highest trees, and flying-foxes\nthat trailed like clouds between her and the tree-tops.  She saw the\nlizards that live in rocks and on the ground, and the hideous iguanas\nthat run up the trees.  Great flocks of screaming cockatoos made the\nair white, as they flew, the sun gleaming on their yellow crests.\nThere were snakes, too, in the Bush: great carpet-snakes, evil-looking\nbrown and black fellows, and the wicked tiger-snake, with its\nyellow-patterned back and its quick cruel movements.  Once it had\namused Kari very much to see the jackass, Merkein, swoop down upon a\nsnake and carry it, struggling, back into a tree.  The jackass was a\nsilent bird then, and never made any fuss over his captures: still, it\nwas exciting to see him catch snakes.  But now Kari found that none of\nthese things interested or amused her any more.  All she wanted to see\nagain was the Puralkas come out of their swamp and dance upon the grass.\n\nShe watched for a long time, hoping always to catch sight of them\nagain; but though her cloud drifted over all kinds of country, she\ncould not find the Puralkas until at last, one day, as she leaned out,\nto her great joy the little green space came below her again; and there\nwere the long-legged birds, dancing backwards and forwards as they had\ndone before.\n\nShe watched them breathlessly, until her cloud began to float away; and\nthen she decided in her mind that she could not bear to let them go\nagain.  Indeed, she knew now that unless she could do as they did, she\nwould never feel happy any more.  \"I have seen all there is in the\nworld,\" she said, \"and nothing is half so beautiful as dancing.  I know\nI could dance far better than the Puralkas, if I only knew the way.  I\nwill go down and get them to teach me how to dance.  Then I can fly\nback to my cloud, and for ever after I shall not need to look at the\nworld, for I shall be too happy dancing on the clouds.\"\n\nSo Kari spread her great wings and floated down the sky until she came\nover the little green space among the trees.  Then she dropped gently,\nand finally landed in the swamp, which she did not like at all, because\nshe had never before had her feet wet, nor were they made for wading in\nthe soft mud of a swamp.  She scrambled out as quickly as she could,\nfolding her wings over her back.\n\nThe Puralkas had run back to the edge of their little dancing-ground\nwhen they saw the great brown bird coming down from the sky.  At first\nthey were inclined to fly away, but they were inquisitive birds, and\nthey waited to see what she would do, though they were quite prepared\nfor flight if she proved to be alarming.  But the Emu looked so simple\nand meek, and she was so comically upset at getting her feet wet, that\nthe Puralkas saw at once that there was no cause for fear.  As they\nwere not afraid, they became rather angry, for they did not like\nstrangers to see them dancing.  So they clustered together and watched\nher with unfriendly eyes as she struggled out of the mud and wiped her\nfeet upon the grass.\n\n\"How are you?\" she said, rather breathlessly.  \"I have been watching\nyou all from my home in the clouds, and I think you are nice little\nbirds!\"\n\nNow, this made the Puralkas exactly seventeen times more angry than\nbefore.  They believed that they were quite the most beautiful birds\nthat ever wore feathers, and it made them furious to be addressed in\nthis patronizing manner.  Who was this awkward brown monster of a bird,\nto drop out of nowhere and talk to them as if she were a Queen?  They\nchattered among themselves in a whisper.\n\n\"She is as ugly as a Jew-lizard,\" said one.\n\n\"Did ever anyone see such great coarse feet?\" another whispered.  \"And\nher legs!--he-he!  Why, they are as thick as the trunk of a tree-fern!\"\n\n\"And what a great silly head!\"\n\n\"She is larger than a big rock, but she is more foolish than a coot,\"\nsaid another.  \"One look at her will tell you that she has no sense.\"\n\n\"And what is that ridiculous thing she said about a home in the\nclouds?\" one asked.  \"As if we did not know that there is nothing in\nthe clouds except rain!\"\n\n\"Why, the big Eagle flew up nearly to the sun the other day; and yet he\nsaw nothing of nests in the clouds,\" said another.  \"She must think we\nare very simple, to come to us with such a tale.\"\n\n\"No one could possibly think us simple, unless she were mad,\" said\nanother.  \"Every one knows that we are the wisest birds in all the\nBush.  She means to insult us!\"  And they all glared at the Emu, much\nas if she were a tiger-snake.\n\nPoor Kari felt very puzzled and unhappy.  She felt that she had done a\nkind and condescending thing in coming down to earth and talking so\nsweetly to these smaller birds; and she could not make out why they\nshould look at her with such angry eyes.  She rubbed her muddy feet on\nthe grass, and began to wish that she had never left her nest in the\ncloud.\n\n\"Do you not speak my language?\" she asked at last.  \"Why do you not\nanswer me?\"\n\nThe Puralkas put their heads together again, and whispered.  Finally an\nold Puralka stepped forward with mincing steps and looked her up and\ndown, so that Kari actually blushed.\n\n\"We know what you say, but we do not know why you say it,\" said the old\nPuralka.  \"Why should you want to know how we are? and how dare you\ncall us nice little birds?  We do not know what you are--you are\nsomething like a bird, to be sure, but in most ways you are a kind of\nfreak.  At any rate, we have no love for strangers.\"\n\nThe unfortunate Kari moved her big head from side to side, and looked\nat the bad-tempered old Puralka in amazement.  Her beak opened slowly,\nbut she was too surprised to speak.  Nothing like this had ever\noccurred to her when she lived in the sky.\n\n\"As for your extraordinary remark about a home in the clouds, we would\nlike to remind you that we were not hatched yesterday,\" went on the old\nPuralka.  \"Not even the swallows nest in the clouds.  You are only\nwasting your time, and we have none to waste on you.  Would you mind\ngoing away?  We want to get on with our dancing.\"\n\nKari did not know what to say.  Her bewildered eyes glanced from one\nPuralka to another, and, finding no friendly face, came back to the old\nbird who stood waiting for her to answer or go away.  She had never\ndreamed of anything like this, among her drifting clouds, and her first\ninstinct was to spread her wings and fly back until she found her own\npeaceful nest.  But the Puralka's mention of dancing reminded her of\nwhat had brought her to earth, and she felt again all the old longing\nto watch the grey birds dance.  So she summoned up her courage, of\nwhich she possessed surprisingly little, considering her size.\n\n\"I'm sure I don't know why you should be so annoyed,\" she said meekly.\n\"I mean well, and it grieves me that I have offended you.  It was\nbecause I thought you _were_ nice little birds that I called you so,\nbut of course I do not think so now--that is, I mean, I----\"  She broke\noff, for the old Puralka had uttered something like a snort, and was\nregarding her with a fixed expression of wrath, and all the other\nPuralkas had bristled alarmingly.  \"Oh, I don't know what I really _do_\nmean!\" said poor Kari helplessly.  \"You all look at me so unpleasantly.\nAnd it is quite true that I have a nest in the clouds--if you will come\nup, I will show it to you.  I live there always, and I have only come\ndown because I hoped that you would teach me to dance!\"\n\nThere was silence for a moment, and then all the Puralkas began to\nlaugh.  They laughed so much that they could not stand--they went\nreeling round the little green patch, and at last they sat down, with\ntheir legs sticking out straight in front of them, and laughed more and\nmore.  Meanwhile, Kari stood looking at them stupidly.  She felt that\nit was not pleasant laughter.\n\nAt last they ceased to laugh, and, putting all their heads together,\nbegan to whisper.  This went on so long that after a while Kari grew\ntired of standing, and so she sat down and watched them, feeling very\nunhappy.  Overhead a jackass perched on a big gum-tree, and looked at\nthe group, with his wise old head on one side.\n\nWhen they had whispered for a long time, the Puralkas got up and stood\nin a row, with their wings tightly folded over their backs.  The old\nPuralka came forward.\n\n\"You must excuse us for laughing,\" she said.  Her voice was not rude\nnow, but there was something in it that made Kari feel as uncomfortable\nas she had felt when she had been rude before.  \"We did not mean to\nhurt your feelings--but we all thought of something funny we saw last\nmonth, and so we had to laugh.\"\n\nIf Kari had been less simple, she would have known that this was only\nsaid out of politeness, but she was very anxious to make friends, so\nshe looked gratefully at the old Puralka and said, timidly, that she\nwas glad they were so merry.\n\n\"Quite so,\" said the Puralka.  \"It is a poor heart that never rejoices.\nBut about dancing--that is a different matter.  You see, you have\nwings.\"\n\n\"Eh?\" said the Emu stupidly.  \"Why, of course, I have wings.  Why not?\"\n\n\"Well, that is the difficulty,\" said the Puralka.  \"Dancing like ours\nis the most beautiful thing in the world, of course.  But no one with\nwings can learn it.  You see, we have none ourselves.\"\n\nThe Emu gave a quick look at the Puralkas, standing in a row.  They had\nfolded their wings so tightly over their neat bodies that it looked as\nthough they had really none at all; and she looked so hard at their\nbodies that she did not notice how cunning their eyes were.\n\n\"Why, I never noticed that yours were gone,\" she said.  \"Dear me! how\nsad!  Do you not find it very uncomfortable and awkward?\"\n\n\"No; why should we?\" snapped the Puralka.  \"Wings are really not much\nuse when you once get accustomed to doing without them.  Dancing is\nmuch better.\"\n\n\"But why cannot one have both?\" asked Kari.\n\n\"Simply _because_,\" said the old Puralka crossly.  \"We do not know why\nthese things are, and we never ask foolish questions about them.  But\nif you wish to learn our beautiful dancing, you must give up your wings\nfirst.\"\n\n\"Give up my wings!  I could never do that,\" cried Kari.\n\n\"Well, dancing is better.  But it is for you to say,\" said the old\nPuralka.\n\nAs she spoke, she made a sign to the others, and they began to dance,\nswaying forward until they almost touched Kari, and then backwards\nagain.  Then the line broke up into circles and figures, and they\ndanced round the Emu until her head grew dizzy with their movements,\nand she felt that to dance so well was even better than to have wings.\nTo and fro they went, faster and faster, until she could scarcely\ndistinguish one from another, and their long thin legs she could hardly\nsee at all.  Then, quite suddenly, they all stopped; and Kari blinked\nat them, and could not speak.\n\n\"Well?\" asked the old Puralka, watching her closely.  \"Do you not think\nthat wings are only a small price to pay for such dancing?\"\n\n\"Could you teach me?\" Kari asked.\n\n\"Easily, if you give up your wings.\"\n\nKari gave a great sigh.\n\n\"Very well,\" she said.  \"I cannot live without knowing how to dance as\nyou do.\"\n\n\"Then, spread your wings out on this stone,\" said the Puralka.\n\nSo Kari spread her great wings across the stone, and the Puralkas cut\nthem off quite close to her body with their sharp beaks.\n\nThen they said,\n\n\"Stand up.\"\n\nKari stood up, feeling very naked and queer without her wings.  Then\nthe Puralkas began to dance again, faster and faster; and they danced\nupon her wing-feathers that had been cut off, scattering them with\ntheir feet until there were not two left together, and the wind came\nand took the feathers, so that they floated away over the tops of the\ntrees and mounted out of sight.  Then the Puralkas laughed again, just\nas they had laughed before, until Kari's head rang with the noise of it.\n\n\"When will you teach me?\" she asked timidly.\n\n\"Teach you!\" cried the Puralkas.  \"What a joke!  What a joke!\"  They\nburst out laughing again.  Then, to Kari's amazement, they unfolded\ntheir wings and shook them in her face.  The whole green patch of grass\nwas full of the fluttering of the long grey wings.\n\n\"You said you had none!\" she cried.\n\n\"What a joke!  What a joke!\" screamed the Puralkas, flapping her with\ntheir wings.  They spun round and round her, their long legs dancing\nmadly, and their wings quivering and fluttering.  Then they suddenly\nmounted into the air, circled about her once or twice, and flew away\nthrough the trees.  The sound of their wicked laughter grew fainter and\nfainter until it died away.\n\nKari sat down and put her head down on the ground.  After a while she\ngot up and tried to fly, but the little stumps of her wings would not\nraise her an inch from the earth, and very soon she ceased to try.  She\nsat down again.\n\nLater on, she stood up and began to try to dance as the Puralkas had\ndone.  She moved her great feet in the same way, and tried to sway\nabout; but it was useless.  She looked so comical, hopping round on her\nthick legs, that the Jackass, which had all the time sat in the\ngum-tree overhead, broke into a great shout of laughter, and all the\nBush rang with the sound.  \"Ha-ha-ha-ha!--ho-ho-ho-ho!\" screamed the\nJackass.  \"Kari is trying to dance--look at her!  There never was\nanything half so funny--ha-ha-ha! ho-ho-ho!\"\n\nThen Kari knew that she had lost her wings for nothing; that she could\nnever dance like the Puralkas, and that--worst of all--she could never\ngo back to her nest in the clouds.  She could not bear the harsh\nlaughter of the Jackass, and so she ran away, her long legs taking\ngreat strides, crashing into the undergrowth of the Bush.  Then the\nJackass flew away, still chuckling to himself that anyone could be so\nstupid.  Soon the little green patch of grass was quite deserted; until\nthe sun set, when the cruel Puralkas came flying back to it and danced\nagain.  But Kari never came to it.\n\nSo the Emu lives on earth, and has forgotten all about the nest she\nonce had in the drifting clouds.  She has no friends among the birds,\nfor though she is a bird herself, she has no wings, and cannot fly.\nShe has taught herself to run very fast, and to kick with her big feet,\nso that it is not wise to make her angry.  Because she used to live in\nthe clouds and had no proper training, she will eat the most\nextraordinary things--stones, and nails, and pieces of iron and glass,\nwhich the blacks have brought into the Bush--but they never seem to\ndisagree with her.  She is not a very happy bird, for all the time she\nkeeps hoping that her wings will grow long again and that she will be\nable to fly back to find her cloud-nest.  But they never grow.\n\nAlways since then, Merkein, the Jackass, has been able to laugh.  He is\ncalled the Laughing Jackass, because of this.  He has been a merry\nfellow ever since he sat on the gum-tree and watched Kari trying to\ndance, after the cruel Puralkas had robbed her of her wings and left\nher far away from her nest in the white clouds.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nBOORAN, THE PELICAN\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nLong ago, black people were scattered all over the earth, and the\nforests and plains were full of them.  But a great flood came.  For\nweeks it rained all day and all night, until nearly all the plains were\ngreat swamps.  Then the snow was washed from the hills, and the rivers\nand creeks overflowed their banks, and swept over the country.  There\nwas scarcely anything to be seen except the tops of the tallest trees\nsticking out of the waters that covered the land.  All the camps were\nwashed away, and nearly all the people were drowned.\n\nIn one tribe, the only people left alive were a man and three women.\nTheir camp was near a river; and when the flood came and the river rose\nand washed away the wurleys, they clung to a great log that lay upon\nthe bank.  It was so huge a log that they did not think any flood would\never move it.  But they had seen only little floods, and they did not\nknow what the river could do when it rose in its wrath.\n\nThe water crept higher and higher as they clung to the log, and at\nlength they felt its great length give a little shiver beneath them.\nPresently it shifted a little, and the water slipped below it; and soon\nit swung right round until one end pointed over the bank.  Still the\nflood came rising and rising, and presently a wave flowed right over\nthe log and washed off some of the people who were clinging to it.  But\nthe man and the three women dug their fingers into knot-holes and\ncracks, and held on desperately.\n\nThen a fresh rush of water took the log, and it bumped heavily three\ntimes on the bank and slid off into the water.  At first, its weight\ntook it under the surface, and the four blacks, feeling the cold dark\nwater close over their heads, made sure that Death had come for them.\nStill they gripped the log, and presently it rose, and the current\nwhirled it round and sent it off downstream.  It bumped heavily on a\nsnag, and one of the women fell off, crying for help as she went.  The\nman leaned over quickly and by good chance gripped her by the hair.\nSomehow, half pulled, half climbing, she managed to scramble back, and\ngot another grip upon the sodden wood.  Then the flood carried them\ninto the darkness.\n\nAll through the cold blackness of the night they held to their rocking\nplace of refuge.  Sometimes it went aground, with a jar that shook it\nthrough its great length, and hung awhile before a fresh spurt of water\nwashed it off again, to float away into the storm-riven night once\nmore.  Then there would come bends in the river, when the current would\nfail to take the log round quickly enough, because it was so long; and\nit would sail on and ram its nose into the bank, running so far into\nthe soft mud that perhaps an hour would creep past before the washing\nof the water worked it loose again.  Then the log would swing right\nround, shaking in the eddies, until it seemed that numbed fingers could\nhold no longer.  But still the terrified blacks held on, while their\nraft spun down the stream once more, with the cold waves splashing over\ntheir shivering bodies.\n\nDawn broke slowly, in the mist of driving rain, and showed them a\ncountry covered as far as they could see with water.  On either side of\nthe river, the topmost ridge of the high banks still could be seen: but\nsoon these were almost submerged and the log floated in the midst of a\ngreat brown sea.\n\nAbout two hours after sunrise a sudden swirl of water took the log and\nfloated it out upon the top of the left-hand bank.  It came to rest\nwith a shock, and one of the women loosened her grip and fell off, with\na mournful little cry that she could hold on no more.  But to her\nsurprise, the water was only up to her knees, and the log lay at rest\nbeside her, its voyage over.\n\nThe man, whose name was Karwin, grunted as he straightened his\nstiffened limbs, slipping down into the water beside the woman.\n\n\"That was good luck for you, Murla,\" he said.  \"If the water had been\nany deeper you would have gone for ever, for there is no strength left\nin me to pull you out.\"\n\n\"I thought it was the end,\" said Murla, her teeth chattering with cold.\n\"And, as far as I can see, it might as well have been the end, for it\nis better to die quickly than slowly, and we shall never get out of\nthis dreary place.\"\n\n\"That is very likely,\" said Karwin.  \"But still I am glad to be able to\nlet go of that shaking log and stand upright once more.\"\n\nThe other women had scrambled to a sitting position on the log, and\nwere rubbing their stiffened limbs.\n\n\"I think those who stayed in camp will have died more comfortably than\nwe shall,\" said one.  \"How are we to get any food?\"\n\n\"Oh, there will be no food,\" Karwin answered.  \"Unless the flood goes\ndown very quickly, we shall certainly starve.  I do not even know where\nwe are, and I have no weapons.  Ky! none of our forefathers ever knew\nsuch a flood!  It is something to have seen it!\"\n\n[Illustration: \"'Oh, there will be no food,' Karwin answered.\"]\n\n\"That will not do us much good when we are lying dead in the mud,\" said\nMurla shortly.  \"I would rather have a piece of kangaroo now than see\nthe biggest flood that ever was in the world.  I have had enough of\nfloods!  Do you think the water will come any higher?\"\n\n\"How can I tell?\" answered Karwin shortly.  Then, because they were all\ntired, and frozen, and hungry, they quarrelled about it, and became\nalmost warm in the discussion.  After awhile, Karwin laughed.\n\n\"If I had a waddy I would give all three of you something to argue\nover,\" he said.  \"What is the use of becoming angry when there is\nnothing to be gained by it?  It will not take us off this bank, that is\ncertain.\"\n\n\"No, but it keeps us from thinking,\" Murla said.  \"When I was angry\njust now I quite forgot that I was hungry.\"\n\n\"All women are a little mad,\" said Karwin scornfully.  \"No amount of\ntalking could ever make me forget that I was hungry.  It is the most\nimportant thing in the world.\"\n\nHe looked about him.  Behind the ridge of the river bank, on which\ntheir log lay, the current of the flooded stream swept by, deep and\nswift.  Before, the sea of brown water stretched as far as he could\nsee, broken only by clusters of storm-washed leaves, that were the tops\nof submerged trees.  There, no current ran; but the wind fled along the\nsurface of the water and blew it into ripples and little waves.\n\n\"I wonder how deep that is,\" said Karwin thoughtfully.  \"I will go and\nsee.\"\n\nHe took a few careful steps forward.  Then his foot slipped, and he\nslid off the mud of the crest of the bank, and immediately disappeared\nwith a loud splash.  The women set up a dreadful screaming, crying\n\"Come back!\"--which, under the circumstances, was a very stupid thing\nto say.  For a long moment the world seemed empty before them.\n\nThen Karwin's head suddenly popped up out of the water, with his face\nvery wet and angry.  He swam to the ridge, but it was not easy to get\nupon it, for the crest was sharp, and very slippery, as Karwin already\nknew to his cost.  Several times he clawed at it, only to slide back\ninto the deep water, spluttering and wrathful.\n\n\"Hold on to the log,\" said Murla, quickly, to one of the women.  \"Then\ngive your sister your other hand, and she can hold mine.\"\n\nThe three formed a chain and found that, by stretching as far as they\ncould reach, Murla could just touch Karwin with her hand.  He made a\ngreat effort and caught it in a firm grip, and then they pulled all\ntogether, and so managed to tug him over the edge of the ridge.\n\nKarwin was very angry, and not at all grateful to them.\n\n\"You might have thought of that sooner,\" he growled.  \"Ky! the water is\ncold, and I sank down into a clump of prickly bushes, so that I am\nstuck with prickles all over.  There is no getting away from this bank,\nthat is certain.\"\n\n\"We had suspected that,\" said Murla, laughing.  At this Karwin became\nworse-tempered than ever, for a blackfellow does not like to be laughed\nat by a woman, any more than a white man likes it.  He threatened to\nbeat them all, and even struck out at one of the women who was\ngrinning, but Murla spoke to him severely.\n\n\"Don't do that!\" she said boldly.  \"We are all in the same fix\ntogether, and we will not be beaten by you.  If you strike one of us we\nwill all push you off into the deep water--and this time we will not\npull you back.  Therefore, you had better be warned.\"\n\nMurla looked so fierce as she spoke that Karwin stopped the hand he was\nlifting to strike the woman, and scratched his head with it instead.\nIt was quite a new experience for a blackfellow to be ordered about by\na lubra, and you can fancy that he did not like it.  Still, the other\nwomen were clearly prepared to back up Murla; and he did not forget how\nhe had struggled in the water at the edge of the bank before they\npulled him in.  So, instead of hitting the woman, he growled\nunpleasantly and waded to one end of the log, where he sat down and\ngave himself up to very bad temper.  This time, however, he kept it\ninside him, and so it did not hurt anyone.\n\nThe sisters looked at Murla with great respect, but Murla only laughed\nat them.  She was a pretty woman, for a lubra.  Her hair was long and\nvery black and curly, and she was much fairer than most of her tribe,\nwith a fine flat nose and a merry smile.  None of her teeth had been\nknocked out, which happens to many lubras, and so there were no holes\nin her smile.  She was little more than a girl, but she was tall and\nstrong, and very clever.  And she was not at all afraid of Karwin.\n\nFor two days the four castaways sat on their log and watched the flood.\nOnce it rose higher, when a fresh mass of snow was washed from the\ndistant hill-tops, and came down to swell the river; and they thought\ntheir log was again about to be carried down-stream, and gave\nthemselves up for lost, for they knew that now they were too weak to\nhold on for very long.  But the log held firm upon the bank, and the\ndanger passed.  It was very cold.  They plastered themselves all over\nwith a thick coating of mud, hoping that when it dried it would keep\nthem warmer; and this helped them against the cold wind, though it was\nnot at all comfortable in other ways.\n\nBut worst of all was hunger.  On the second day they began to break\npieces off the log and chew them, and that, as you can imagine, did\nvery little good.  Karwin became more and more bad-tempered, and looked\nat the women as if it was their fault.  Also, he was very sore from the\nprickles, and the two sisters and Murla spent quite a long time in\npicking them out of his back, though he was only a little grateful to\nthem.\n\nOn the second day, the water began to go down.  The river still roared\nand raced past them, bearing on its breast all kinds of things: trees,\nlogs, bushes, interlaced fragments of ruined wurleys, drowned animals,\nand even dead blacks; but its water slipped back from the bank where\ntheir log lay, until it left them on a little mud island, with the\nbrown sea still rippling about them in every direction.  The tops of\nthe trees came farther and farther out of the water, and new tree-tops\ncame into view, with their boughs laden with mud.  Often they saw\nlittle living animals in the brushwood that went drifting by them in\nthe river; and nearly all the floating rubbish was alive with snakes\nthat had taken refuge from the flood.  Sometimes the brushwood would\nbreak up in the current, and they would see the snakes swimming wildly\nuntil the river carried them out of sight.  Two came ashore on their\nisland, and Karwin killed them with a stick he had taken out of the\nriver.  They ate them, and felt a little better.  But they knew that\nthey must soon die if they did not get more food.  They watched the\nriver anxiously, hoping that it might bring them something else.\n\nTowards evening, they were gazing up-stream, when Murla cried out\nsuddenly.\n\n\"What is that?\" she said, pointing to a dark spot on the water.\n\n\"It is a bush,\" said one of the women, in a dull voice.\n\n\"No, I am certain it is an animal,\" Murla said.  \"It is floating\ntowards us.  Let us try to get it.\"\n\nSo they held hands, as they had done when Karwin fell in, and Karwin\nslipped into the current, holding Murla's hand tightly.  He had found a\nstick with a sharp hook on one end, where a branch had broken off, and\nwhen the dark object came bobbing down-stream he thrust at it fiercely,\nsavage with hunger.  The hook caught in it, and very carefully they\ndrew it ashore, and managed to get it on their island.  It was a harder\nmatter to get Karwin back, but they managed that too, and then they all\nlay on the mud and panted, and, except for Murla's fair face, they\nlooked as if they were part of the mud.\n\nTheir find was a plump young wombat, and it probably saved their lives.\nOf course they had no way of cooking it, but at the moment that\nscarcely troubled them; neither did they at all object to the fact that\nit had been dead for a good while.  They ate it all, and long after the\nmoon had come out to cast her white light into the flood it showed them\nsitting on the log, happily crunching the bones.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nBooran was a very clever bird.  He was bigger than most of the\nwater-fowl, and very strong.  He was also very proud, partly because of\nhis great wings, which would carry his heavy body skimming over the\nlakes and swamps, and partly because of his beautiful white plumage.\nAll his feathers were perfectly white, and he was so vain about it that\nhe scorned every bird that had coloured or dark plumage.  He used to\nlook at his reflection in deep pools, and murmur, \"How beautiful I am!\"\nIf by any mischance he got a mud-stain on his feathers he was quite\nunhappy until he had managed to wash it off.  Some people might not\nthink a pelican a very lovely bird, but Booran was completely satisfied\nwith himself.\n\nBesides being beautiful and white, Booran at that time owned a bark\ncanoe.  It made him prouder than ever.  It was not a very big canoe,\nbut it was as much as a pelican could comfortably manage.  He used to\nsit in it and paddle it along with his strong wings.  There was really\nno reason why he should have had a canoe at all, for he was quite able\nto swim about in the water with far less labour than it needed to\npaddle his boat with his wings.  It was only part of his great pride.\n\nStill, no other bird had ever thought of having a canoe, so it pleased\nBooran to think himself superior to them all.  No other bird wanted one\nat all, but he forgot that.  The Emu laughed at him openly, and when\nBooran offered him a trip in his canoe he asked rudely what Booran\nthought he could do with his long legs in such a cockle shell?  That\nmade Booran more indignant than he had ever been since two black swans\nhad risen suddenly under the canoe one day and upset both it and Booran\nin a very muddy part of a lake.  He vowed that no other bird should\never enter it.  Sometimes a meek little bird, such as a honey-eater or\na bell-bird, would perch on the edge of the canoe and ask to be ferried\nabout; but Booran never would allow it.  He used to catch fish, and\nwhen he had stored all he could in his pouch he would put the rest in\nthe canoe, so that soon it became all one dreadful smell.  Not that any\npeople in the country of the blacks were likely to object to that.\nThey were brought up on smells.\n\nWhen the big flood came, Booran enjoyed himself thoroughly.  The river\nwas too swift for him to attempt in his canoe at first, but he paddled\nabout in the water that covered the plains, and poked into a great many\nthings that did not concern him in the least.  Sometimes he ran\naground, when it was always an easy matter for him to jump overboard\nand push the canoe off with his great beak.  He found all kinds of new\nthings to eat, floating round in the flood-water; and some of them gave\nhim indigestion rather badly.  But on the whole it was a very\ninteresting time, and he was very glad that he had a canoe so that he\ncould go about in a stylish manner.\n\nIt was on the afternoon of the third day after the water had begun to\ngo down, that Booran was first able to try the canoe on the river.  The\ncurrent was still swift, but he kept in the quieter water near each\nbank, and did not find much difficulty in getting about.  He saw a\nnumber of strange blacks on a rise near the water, busily building\nwurleys; but they did not see him, for he dodged under cover of the\nwattle-trees fringing the bank.  Then he pulled down-stream for a\nlittle while, until he came to where the banks were lower, and not many\ntrees were to be seen out of the water.  He rounded a bend, and came\nupon Karwin and his companions.\n\nBooran's first instinct was to get out of sight.  He was afraid of all\nblackfellows, especially when they had spears and throwing-sticks.  But\nbefore he could go, the woman Murla saw him, and uttered a great cry of\nastonishment.  At once they believed that it was Magic--so many strange\nthings could be explained that way.  They watched the big white bird in\nhis bark canoe, and waited to see what would happen, hoping that he was\nnot an evil spirit who would do them any harm.\n\nSeeing them so quiet, and realizing that they were unarmed, Booran\nallowed his natural curiosity to get the better of him.  He paddled\nacross the river, swept down a little by the current, and stopped his\ncanoe in a quiet pool near the mud island, where the castaways sat\nmiserably on their log.  They looked so forlorn and unhappy that even\nhis cold and fishy heart was stirred.\n\n\"Good day,\" he said.\n\n\"Good day,\" Karwin answered.\n\n\"This is a big flood,\" Booran remarked.\n\n\"Yes, it is a very big one.  All the land has gone away.\"\n\n\"Yes, but it will come back.  Fish are scarce, now that the river is\nhigh.\"\n\n\"That is very likely,\" said Karwin.\n\nThen, having made all these stupid remarks, as all men do before they\ncome to business, they stopped, and looked at the sky, and Booran said,\n\"I wonder if more rain will come!\"\n\nMurla struck in suddenly.\n\n\"Men are very strange,\" she said.  \"They are always ready to jabber.\nHow is it that you go about in that little boat?\"\n\n\"Because I like it,\" said Booran shortly, for he did not approve of\nwomen talking so freely, neither did he like the question about his\ncanoe.\n\nMurla laughed.  \"You look very funny when you are cross,\" she said.  \"I\nnever saw such a dignified pelican.\"  The other women shuddered, for\nthey thought that Booran might be an evil spirit, in which case he\nwould certainly object to such free-and-easy remarks.  But Booran\nlooked at Murla, and saw how pretty she was, and suddenly he did not\nwish to be angry.  Instead, he smiled at her; and no one who has not\nseen it can imagine how peculiar a pelican looks when he smiles.\n\n\"It is a very useful canoe,\" he said.  \"I have been all over the\nflood-waters in it, and have seen many wonderful things.\"\n\n\"Have you any food?\" asked Murla eagerly.\n\n\"No, for I have eaten it all.  But I may come across some at any time.\nWould you like it?\"\n\n\"Like it!\" said Murla.  \"Why, we have only had two snakes and a wombat\nbetween us for four days--and the wombat was only a little one.  I\ncould eat the quills of a porcupine!\"\n\n\"Dear me,\" said Booran, looking at her with his foolish little eyes\nvery wide.  \"That would be very unpleasant, would it not?  I quite\nregret that I ate an old fish that I found in the stern of my canoe\nthis morning.  Not that it would have made much of a meal for four\npeople.\"\n\n\"It would have given me a breakfast,\" said Karwin rudely.  \"But as\nthere is no food, there is no use in talking about it.  Tell me,\nPelican, have you seen any of our people?  We do not know if there are\nany left alive.\"\n\n\"I have seen some blacks, but I do not know if they are your people,\"\nBooran answered.  \"They are across the river, where they are building\nthemselves new huts.\"\n\n\"Can't you go and see if they belong to our tribe?\"\n\nBooran shook his big head decidedly.\n\n\"Not I,\" he said.  \"Most blacks are very uncivil to pelicans, and these\nhad weapons close at hand.  I have no wish to be found with a spear\nsticking in my heart, or in any other part of me.\"\n\n\"Did you notice what they were like?\" Murla asked eagerly.\n\n\"I saw a fat woman, and a thin man,\" said Booran stupidly.  \"How should\nI know what they were like?  They are not beautiful like pelicans.  Oh,\nand I saw a very tall man, with a red bone through his nose.  He was\nsitting idly on a stump while the others worked.\"\n\n\"That was my husband!\" said Murla with a faint shriek.  \"Alas, I\nthought he was drowned!  And the fat woman may be your wife, Goomah,\"\nshe said to Karwin.\n\n\"Very likely,\" said Karwin.  \"Did you notice if they had food?\"\n\n\"I do not know.  But it is likely, for they had fire, and there was a\npleasant smell.\"\n\n\"If my wife Goomah has food and fire, while I have nothing, there will\nbe trouble,\" said Karwin wrathfully.\n\n\"That may be, but we will die here without ever knowing,\" Murla said.\n\"Long before the water goes down we will have starved to death, and\nthen nothing will matter.\"  She broke off a bit of wood and flung it\ninto the swirling river.  \"I wish we had never tried to save ourselves,\nor seen that hateful log!\"\n\nNow, Booran had been watching Murla, and he thought she looked very\ncapable, and he thought that she could be very useful to him if he\ncould get her away to some place where she could catch fish for him, so\nthat he might spend all his time admiring himself and paddling about in\nhis canoe.\n\nBut he did not quite know how to manage it.\n\nKarwin and the woman went on wrangling.  They had not been happy before\nBooran came with his tidings; but now they could only think of their\nfellow-blacks feasting and making a warm and comfortable camp, and it\nmade them feel very much worse than they had felt before.  They shouted\nlong and loudly in the hope of making the others hear; but no answer\ncame, and the river rushed by them without pity, and they hated their\nlittle mud island.\n\nAll the time, Booran gazed at Murla, and at last he made up his mind\nthat he could not possibly do without her.  Whatever happened, he must\nget her away, and sail with her in his bark canoe to an island where\nthe blacks could never find her.  The others were talking so fast that\nhe had time to think out a plan, and when they stopped for lack of\nbreath, he spoke.\n\n\"I think, if you sat very still and got in and out very carefully, that\nI could take you across the river, one at a time,\" he said, speaking in\na great hurry.\n\n\"That thing would sink,\" said Karwin sulkily, looking at the little\ncanoe with eyes of scorn.\n\n\"No, it does not sink easily.  You would have to be very careful, but\nit would be safe.\"\n\nKarwin looked at the canoe, and then he looked at the trees that showed\nround the bend, when the high banks were quite clear of water.  It was\nvery tempting to think of getting there--such a little way!  He thought\nhard.  Then he said:\n\n\"You can take Kari first--she is the lightest, and if the canoe does\nnot sink with her, perhaps I will go.\"\n\nBooran did not care which he took first, so long as it was not Murla.\nBut the woman Kari objected very strongly, and made a great outcry, for\nshe thought she would be drowned.  However, the others were all agreed\nthat she should go, so there was no use in objecting, and she had to\ngive in.  Crying and trembling, she stepped into the canoe, which\nBooran brought close to the bank.\n\nThe canoe went down a good deal, but it did not sink, and Booran\npaddled gently up the stream, keeping very close to the bank, so that\nthe current did not sweep him down.  He disappeared round the bend, and\nfor awhile Karwin and the two women who were left watched anxiously,\nfearing to see the upturned canoe float back empty.  But in about ten\nminutes they saw Booran turn the corner and paddle swiftly down,\nevidently very pleased with himself.  When he got near the mud island\nhe called out, \"All is well!  I landed her easily on the bank, and she\nhas run to the camp.\"\n\nThat made the others eager, and Murla stepped forward to get into the\ncanoe.  But Booran stopped her, saying, \"Not now--next time!\"--and\nbefore she could argue, Karwin twisted her out of his way, and stepped\ninto the canoe so hurriedly that it nearly sank, and Booran called out\nvery angrily to him to mind what he was doing.  However, the canoe\nrighted itself, and presently Booran had paddled it out of sight again.\n\nMurla began to feel a little uneasy, though she scarcely knew why.\nThere was something wrong about the way that Booran looked at her, with\nhis cold eyes that were so like a fish's.  She felt she would be glad\nwhen she was out of his canoe, and safely on the same side as her\npeople.  She did not want to get into the canoe at all; but as it was\nnecessary to do so, she decided to get it over as soon as possible.  So\nshe said to the other black woman, \"I will go next, Meri.\"\n\n\"All right,\" said Meri, shivering under her little 'possum rug and her\ncoat of mud.  \"But tell the Pelican to hurry back, or I shall certainly\ndie of cold.\"\n\nMurla waited impatiently until Booran appeared, and when the canoe came\nalongside the bank she was ready.  But Booran looked at her queerly,\nand said, \"Not now--next time!\n\n\"Why?\" asked Murla angrily.  \"This is my turn.\"\n\n\"Not now--next time!\" was all Booran would say; and he beckoned to\nMeri, who was not slow to obey, for she was very tired of waiting.  She\nstepped in, and the canoe moved away from the mud island.\n\nSuddenly Murla was very much afraid, although as a rule she did not\nknow what fear meant.  She felt that she must not get into Booran's\ncanoe--that there was danger coming very close to her.  In a few\nminutes he would be back for her.  A quick resolve came to her mind.\nWhatever happened, Booran must not find her there when he came back.\n\nShe slipped off her 'possum rug and wrapped it round a log that had\ncome ashore on their island.  It was just as long as she was, and when\nthe rug was wrapped about it, it looked as if she were lying asleep.\nThen she slipped into the river, and began to swim across.\n\nBooran and Meri were out of sight round the bend, and what she wanted\nto do was to get to the other side before the canoe came back.  But it\nwas not an easy matter.  The current was swift, and though she was a\nvery strong swimmer, it took her down-stream; and once she thought that\nshe must be drowned.  However, just as she was on the point of giving\nup, she felt the ground under her feet, and scrambled out upon a bank\nthat was nearly all under water.  Then she waded along it until she got\nnear the bend.\n\nJust then she heard the noise of Booran's wings brushing in the water.\nShe flung herself down on her face--just in time, for the canoe came\nround the bend, and passed quite close to her.  Booran heard the swirl\nin the water, and glanced round, seeing the ripples; but just then he\ncaught sight of what looked like Murla, lying on the mud island, and he\nsaid, \"Oh, it was only a water rat!\" and paddled on.\n\nMurla lay still in the water, holding her breath, until he had floated\ndown the stream.  Then she got up very quietly and waded, sinking in\nthe soft mud of the bank until it grew higher, and trees and dry land\ncould be seen.  She ran then, casting her eyes wildly about until she\nsaw ahead a little drift of smoke; and presently, toiling up a steep\nrise in the bank, she came upon the blacks, where already Karwin and\nMeri and Kari were jabbering loudly, telling all their experiences and\nhearing those of the others at the same time.  They cried out with\nastonishment when they saw Murla coming along the bank, and asked her\nwhy Booran had not brought her in his canoe.\n\nWhen she told them she had been afraid of him, they all laughed at her.\nBut her husband, the tall man with the red bone through his nose, was\nvery angry because she had left her 'possum rug behind, and asked her\nif she thought rugs like that grew on wild cherry-trees.  He went off\nat once to see if he could get it back, telling her as he went that if\nhe failed, she need not think she was going to have his.  Of course,\nMurla had known that already.\n\nMeanwhile, Booran had paddled down to the mud island, and, seeing the\nform in the 'possum rug, lying under the shelter of the great log, he\ncalled to it several times, saying, \"Come on, now.  It is your turn.\"\nBut no movement came, and at last he grew angry, and hopped out of the\ncanoe and went on to the island, still calling.  There was no answer,\nand he lost his temper and kicked the figure very hard--with the result\nthat he hurt his foot very much.  Then he pulled the rug off roughly,\nand found only a log underneath.\n\nBooran became furious.  He had been made to look a fool.  For awhile he\nstamped about the island, screaming in his rage, and when the blacks\ngot to the opposite bank that is how they saw him.  Then Booran made up\nhis mind that he would \"look out fight,\" as the blacks do, and kill the\nhusband of the woman.\n\nSo he took some mud and smeared it on himself in long lines, so that he\nmight be striped as the blacks are when they go fighting: for a\nblackfellow does not consider himself dressed for battle until he has\npainted himself in long white streaks with pipeclay.  He was so busy\npainting, and planning how he would slay Murla's husband, that he did\nnot see a black shadow in the sky.  It was another pelican, and he came\nnearer, puzzled to know what could be this strange thing, so like a\npelican and yet striped like a fighting man.  He could not make it out,\nbut he decided it could not be right; and so he drove at Booran and\nstruck him in the throat with his great beak, killing him.  Then he\nflew away.\n\nNow the blacks say, there are no black pelicans any more.  They are all\nblack and white, just as Booran was when his Death came to him suddenly\nout of the sky.\n\nThe blacks across the river were very much amazed.  But when the great\nblack Pelican had sailed away, Murla's husband swam across and got her\n'possum rug, which he brought back, tied on top of his head.  He gave\nit back to Murla, and then beat her with his waddy for having been so\ncareless as to leave it behind.  So they lived happily ever after.\n\nBut the river took Booran's little canoe and whisked it away.  It\nbobbed upon the brown water like a walnut shell, spinning in the\neddies, and sailing proudly where the water was clear and free.  At\neach mile the river grew wider and fuller, and the little canoe sped\nonwards on its breast.  Then ahead came a long line of gleaming silver,\nand the river sang that it had nearly reached the sea.  The light canoe\nrocked over the waters of the bar, but came safely through them; and\nthen it floated away westward, into the sunset.\n\nBut the tide brought it back to shore, and the breakers took it and\nflung it on the rocks, pounding it on their sharp edges until it was no\nlonger a canoe, but only a twisted bit of bark.  The waves went back\nand left it lying on the beach; and some blacks who came along, hungry\nand cold, were very glad to find it and use it to start their fire,\nwhen it was dry.  So Booran's canoe was useful to the blacks until the\nvery end.\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nTHE STORY OF THE STARS\n\nPund-jel, who was Maker of Men, sat in his high place one day and\nlooked at the world.  The blacks believed that in the very long ago he\nhad made the first men and women out of clay; and from there they had\nspread over all the earth.  Pund-jel had made them to be good and\nhappy, and for a long while he had been satisfied with them.  But now\nit was different, and he was angry.\n\nAll over the world he could see his black people.  They had grown tall\nand strong, and he thought them beautiful.  They were skilled in\nhunting, and fierce in battle: the women were clever at making rugs of\nskins, at cooking, at weaving curious mats and baskets of pliant\nrushes.  The forests were full of game for them---birds, beasts and\nreptiles, all good to eat: there were fish in the lakes and rivers, fat\nmud-eels in the creeks and swamps, and gum and manna to be found on\nevery hill-side.  The world was a good, green world, and there should\nhave been only happiness.  But the people themselves had grown wicked.\n\nPund-jel bent his brows with anger as he looked down upon them.\nInstead of being peaceful and content, his people had grown fierce and\nsavage.  They thought only of fighting and conquest, and were too lazy\nto work.  The laws that he had made for them were as naught in their\neyes.  They said, \"Oh, Pund-jel is very far away.  He will never come\ndown into our world to see what we do.  Why should we obey him?\"  So\nthey did just as they pleased, and all the world was evil because of\ntheir wickedness.\n\nPund-jel thought gravely as he looked down into his world, and all the\nsky was dark with the blackness of his frown.\n\n\"My people have grown too many,\" he said.  \"When they were few, each\nhelped the other: there was no time for feuds or fighting, for all had\nto work together in order to live.  Now all is changed.  They are many\nand powerful, and they over-run the world, and each man hates his\nbrother.  It were better if I made them fewer, and scattered them far\nand wide.  I will send my whirlwinds upon the earth.\"\n\nSo Pund-jel caused storms and fierce winds to arise often, and they\nswept across the world.  In the flat lands there came suddenly\nwhirlwinds of great force, that twisted and eddied through the plains,\ncarrying men aloft in their choking embrace, and letting them fall,\nbroken and dead, miles away from the places where they had lived.  On\nthe mountains great hurricanes blew shrieking from peak to peak,\ntearing up the largest trees by their roots, and tossing them down into\nthe fern-strewn gullies far below.  Huge boulders were loosened and\nwent crashing down; and often a landslip followed them, when all the\nsoil would be stripped from a hill-side and fall, thundering, carrying\nwith it hundreds of people and leaving the bare rock behind it, like a\nscar upon the side of the mountain.  Thunder and lightning came and\nshook the world with terror: mighty trees were riven and shattered, and\nfires swept through forest and plain, leaving blackness and desolation\nbehind.  Then came floods, that covered the low-lying parts of the\nearth, and made of the rivers roaring torrents, that ran madly to the\nsea.  The world trembled in the terror of the wrath of Pund-jel.\n\nAnd yet, men had grown so wise and cunning that not very many died.\nWhen the whirlwinds and hurricanes came, they crept into holes in the\nhill-sides, or sheltered themselves in deep gullies.  They strengthened\ntheir houses, so that the wind should not blow them away.  Sometimes\nthey floated down the rivers in bark canoes; and a great number found\nrefuge in caves.  Those who were killed were the careless ones, who\nwould not take the trouble to protect themselves against the fury of\nthe storms, thinking that they would only be ordinary gales; but though\nthey died, innumerable people were left.\n\nJust for a little while, they were afraid.  They knew they were wicked,\nand that Pund-jel must be angry with them; and the thought that\npossibly the storms were the message of his wrath made them careful for\nawhile.  But as time passed they forgot the storms and whirlwinds, and\nthe fate of their brothers and sisters who had been killed; and they\nwent back to their wickedness, becoming worse than they had been before.\n\nAnd then there came a day when Pund-jel's anger broke anew.\n\nOne morning a blackness came out of the sky, and in the blackness a\nflame of gleaming fire.  The people clustered together, in terror, and\nthere were cries of \"Pund-jel!  Pund-jel is coming!\"  Then the\nmagic-men began to chatter and make Magic, hoping to turn the wrath of\nthe Maker of Men; and the people flung themselves upon the ground,\ncrying aloud, and calling upon the good Spirits to save them.\n\nThe blackness swooped down upon the earth.  In the air were strange\nwhisperings and mutterings, as if even the rustling leaves and the\nboughs of the trees were crying, \"Pund-jel is coming!\"  And then, out\nof the glowing heart of the cloud came Pund-jel himself, that he might\nsee these men and women that he had made.  He spoke no word.  His\nglance was like lightnings, playing about the stricken eyes of those\nthat gazed.  But he trod among the black multitudes, and the noise of\nthe trampling of his feet shook the earth.\n\nIn his hand he carried his great stone knife, and the sight of it was\nvery terrible.  Those who looked upon it fell back blindly.  But as he\nwalked on he cut his way among the people, with great sweeps of the\ncruel weapon, sparing none that came in his way, and cutting them into\nsmall fragments.  And then the blackness of the cloud received him\nagain, and hid him from the people of the world.\n\nBut the pieces of the slain were not dead.  Each fragment moved, as\nTur-ror, the worm, moves; and from them rose a cry.  It came from the\nfragments of those who had been good men and good women, yet who had\nmet Death at the knife of Pund-jel with the guilty ones.\n\nThen a great and terrible storm came out of the sky, sweeping over the\nplaces where Pund-jel had trod; and with it a whirlwind, that gathered\nup the pieces of those who had been men, women and children, and they\nbecame like flakes of snow, white and whirling in the blackness of the\nair.  They were carried away into the clouds.\n\nAnd when they came to where Pund-jel sat, once more looking down upon\nthe world, he took the flakes that had been bad men and women, and with\nhis hand scattered them so far over the earth that no man could say\nwhere they fell.  So they passed for ever from the sight of man, and\nnow they lie in the waste places of the world, where there is neither\nlight nor day.\n\nBut Pund-jel took the snowflakes that had been good men and women, and\nhe made them into stars.  Right up into the blue sky he flung them; and\nthe sky caught them and held them fast, and the light of the sun fell\nupon them so that they caught some of his brightness.  There they stay\nfor ever, and you would not know that they are in any way different\nfrom the other stars that twinkle at you on a frosty night when the sky\nis all blue and silver.  Only the magic-men, who know everything, can\ntell you which among the stars were once good men, women and children,\nbefore Pund-jel left his high seat to punish the wickedness of the\nworld.\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nHOW LIGHT CAME\n\nThe blacks believed that the earth was quite flat, with the sky arched\nabove it.  They had an idea that if anyone could get beyond the edge of\nthe sky he would come to another country, with rivers and trees, where\nlive the ghosts of all the people who have died.  Some thought that\nthere was water all round the edge of the earth.  They were taught that\nat first the sky had lain flat on the ground, so that neither sun,\nmoon, nor stars could move, but the magpies came along and propped it\nup with long sticks, resting some parts on the mountains near the edge.\nAnd sometimes word was sent from tribe to tribe, saying that the props\nwere growing rotten, and unless the people sent up tomahawks to cut new\nprops, the sky would fall.  In its falling it would burst, and all the\npeople would be drowned.  This used to alarm the blacks greatly, and\nthey would make the magic-men weave charms so that the sky should not\nfall.\n\nAt first, all the earth was in darkness; and at that time there lived\namong the blacks a man called Dityi.  In his tribe was a very beautiful\nwoman whose name was Mitjen; and she became Dityi's wife.\n\nAt first Dityi and Mitjen were very happy.  They had plenty to eat, and\nthe camp was warm and comfortable, and they loved each other very much.\nThere were no white men, at that time: the blacks ruled all their\ncountry, which they thought was the whole world.  The forests were full\nof game, and the rivers of fish: every one had enough, so there was no\nfighting.  And Dityi thought he was the luckiest man in the world,\nbecause he had won the love of Mitjen.\n\nBut a stranger came to the camp: a tall dark-eyed man named Bunjil.  He\ntold stories of far-away forests and wonderful things to be found\nthere.  The other blacks used to listen to him, greatly interested; and\nno one listened more attentively than Mitjen, for she had a great\nlonging to see the wonderful places of which Bunjil spoke.  When she\nheard him tell stories of these strange lands of the Bush, she burned\nto leave her quiet home and go exploring.  Dityi could not understand\nthis feeling at all.  It interested him to hear Bunjil's tales, but he\nhad no wish to do more than hear them.  He was very well satisfied with\nhis life, and thought that his own home was better than any other place\ncould possibly be.\n\nBut Bunjil soon noticed the dark-eyed girl who never lost a word of his\nstories.  It amused him to see her face light up and her eyes sparkle\nat his talk; and so he told more and more stories, and did not always\ntrouble to make them true, so long as he could make Mitjen look\ninterested.  Sometimes he would meet her wandering alone outside the\ncamp, and then he would tell her, as if he were sorry for her, that\nthis quiet camp was no place for her at all.  \"You are so beautiful,\"\nhe would say, \"that you should be far away in my wonderful country,\nwhere you would see many great men and lovely women; but none more\nlovely than Mitjen.  In this dull hole you are buried alive.\"\n\nNone of this was true, but Bunjil spoke exactly as if it were, and\nafter a time Mitjen began to be very discontented.  The simple happy\nlife in the Bush pleased her no longer; she only wanted the exciting\nthings of which Bunjil told.  At home, everybody was good to her and\nliked her, but she was only a girl who had to obey other people all the\ntime, and no one but Dityi had ever troubled about telling her that she\nwas beautiful.  Moreover, she could see that Bunjil did not think much\nof Dityi.  He called him one day to Mitjen, \"an ignorant black fellow,\"\nand though Mitjen could not imagine any people who were not black, it\nsounded very uncomplimentary, and she could not forget it.  As soon as\nhe had said it, Bunjil apologized, saying that it was only a slip of\nthe tongue--but in her heart Mitjen knew this was not true.  It made\nher look down on Dityi a little, and wonder if he were really worthy of\nher.\n\nOne day she asked him if he would take her to Bunjil's country, and his\nsurprise prevented him from speaking for some time.  He could only look\nat her, with his mouth open.\n\n\"Go away from home!\" he said at last.  \"Why?  What is there to go for?\"\n\n\"To see the world,\" said Mitjen, tossing her head.  \"I do not want to\nstay for ever in this weary place.\"\n\n\"But it is the world--or most of it,\" returned Dityi.  \"I do not know\nwhere Bunjil's country is--but the men there cannot be up to much if\nthey are like him, for he is more useless than anyone I ever saw.  He\ncannot throw a boomerang better than a girl, and with a spear I could\nbeat him with my left hand!\"\n\n\"You are boastful,\" said Mitjen coldly.  \"Throwing weapons is not\neverything.\"\n\n\"Well, I don't know how things are managed in Bunjil's country, but it\nis very important in ours that a man should know how to throw,\" said\nDityi.  \"Perhaps Bunjil's game comes close to him to be killed, but\nhere a man has to hunt it.  Did Bunjil mention if it came ready cooked\ntoo?  I don't suppose you would want to do any work in that country of\nhis!\"\n\nThis made Mitjen very angry, and she quarrelled fiercely with Dityi for\nmaking fun of her; and then Dityi lost his temper and beat her a\nlittle, which was quite a usual thing to happen to a woman among the\nblacks.  But Mitjen had been told by Bunjil that in his country a man\nnever raised his hand against a woman.  So it made her furious to be\nbeaten by Dityi, though he cared for her too much really to hurt her,\nand she broke away from him and ran to the camp, sobbing that she hated\nhim and did not want to see him any more.\n\nNear the camp she met Bunjil, who asked her why she was crying; and\nwhen she told him, he was kind to her, patting her gently, and\npretending to be very angry with Dityi.  He was safe in doing this, for\nDityi had gone off whistling into the Bush--not sorry that he had\nbeaten Mitjen, if it should make her sensible again, but sorry that she\nwas unhappy, and resolved to bring her back a snake or something\nequally nice for supper.  So Bunjil ran no risk in abusing him, and he\ndid it heartily.  When they had finished talking, Mitjen walked away\nfrom him into the camp with a very determined face.  She went straight\nto her wurley, and though Dityi brought her home a beautiful young\nsnake and a lace-lizard, she would eat nothing and refused to come out\nof the wurley to speak to him.  So Dityi went back to the young men's\nhuts, angry and offended, and Mitjen lay down, turning her face to the\nwall.  She was just as determined; but only her own heart knew how much\nshe was afraid.\n\nWhen the people of the camp awoke, she was gone.  Nowhere was there any\ntrace of her.  And when the blacks went to look for Bunjil, in his\nwurley, he was gone, too.  Then they fell into a great rage, and the\nyoung men painted themselves in white stripes with pipeclay, and went\nforth in pursuit, carrying all their arms, and led by Dityi.  But\nthough they looked for many days, they could never come upon a track;\nand so at last the other young men gave up the search, and went back to\nthe camp.  But Dityi did not go back.  There was nothing for him at\nhome now that he had lost Mitjen; and so he went on, hunting through\nthe dark forests for his lost love.\n\nBunjil and Mitjen had fled far into the Bush.  For a long time they\nwalked in the creek, so that they would leave no tracks, and if they\ncame to deep holes, they swam them.  They were far away from Mitjen's\ncountry before they dared to leave the water, and already the girl was\ntired.  But Bunjil would not let her stop to rest, for he knew that\nthey would be pursued.  He hurried her on, forgetting now to be gentle\nwhen he spoke to her.\n\nIt was not many days before Mitjen realized the terrible mistake she\nhad made.  They fled deeper and deeper into the Bush, but no wonderful\ncountry came in sight.  She was often cold and hungry, and Bunjil made\nher work harder than she had ever worked before, doing not only the\nwoman's work, but a large share of the man's.  She found out that he\nwas almost too lazy to get food, and if she had not hunted for game\nherself, she would never have had enough to eat.  Bunjil had told her\nthat he loved her, but very soon she knew that this was not true, and\nthat all he had wanted was a woman to cook for him and help him procure\nfood.\n\nAt first she used to ask him when they would come to his own country,\nand he would put her off, saying, \"Presently--pretty soon.\"  But before\nlong she found that it made him angry to be asked about it; and at\nlast, if she spoke of it, he beat her cruelly.  So Mitjen did not ask\nany more.\n\nThen all the memories of Dityi and his love came crowding upon her, and\nher heart quite broke.  She did not want to live any more.  She lay\ndown under a big log, and when Bunjil spoke to her there was no answer.\nSo he kicked her, and left her.  But after he had slept, he went to see\nwhy she lay so still; and he found that she was dead.\n\nAs he looked at her, a great storm came out of the Bush and whirled him\naway.  It flung him far up in the sky, where you may see him now, if\nyou look closely: a lonely, wandering star, finding no rest anywhere,\nand no mate.  Always he must wander on and on, and never stop, no\nmatter how tired he may be; and the other stars shrink from him,\nhurrying away if they cross his path.\n\nThe storm took Mitjen also, and carried her gently into the sky; and\nthere she saw Dityi, who lit it all up, for he had been turned into the\nSun, and was giving light to the earth.  But always, the blacks say, he\nis seeking Mitjen.  Like a great fire, he leaps through the sky,\nmourning for his love and going back and forth in ceaseless quest of\nher.  His wurley is in Nganat, just over the edge of the earth; and the\nbright colour of sunset is caused by the spirits of the dead going in\nand out of Nganat, while Dityi looks among them for his lost love.  But\nhe never finds her; and so next day he begins to hunt again, and goes\ntramping across the sky.  Sometimes he shouts her name--\"Mitjen!\nMitjen!\"--and it is then that we hear Thunder go rolling round the\nworld.  But Mitjen never answers.\n\nShe has been made the Moon, and always she mourns far away and alone.\nWhen she sees the glory of the Sun, and hears his trampling feet, she\nhides herself, for now she is ashamed to let him find her.  She only\ncomes from her hiding-place when he sleeps; and then she hurries\nthrough the sky, so that she may have the comfort of going in his\nfootsteps, though she knows now that she can never hope to overtake\nhim.  Sometimes she sighs, and then a soft breeze flutters over the\nearth; and the big rain is the tears that relieve her grief.\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\nTHE FROG THAT LAUGHED\n\nBefore Pund-jel, Maker of Men, peopled the earth with the black tribes,\nand very long before the first white man came to Australia, the animals\nwhich inhabited the land fell into a great trouble.  And this is how it\nhappened.  Old Conara, the black chief, told it to me while we were\nfishing for cod in the Murray one hot night; and he had it from his\nfather, whose mother had told him about it; while to her the story had\ncome from her grandfather, who said he was a little boy when his\ngrandfather had told him, saying he had had the story from Conara, the\nmagpie, after whom he was named.  And the magpies learn everything, so\nyou see he ought to know.\n\nConara said that once in the long-ago time, all the animals were living\nvery cheerfully together, when suddenly all the water disappeared.\nThey went to sleep with the creeks and swamps full, and the rivers\nrunning; and when they woke up, everything was dry.  Of course, this\nwas the most terrible thing that could happen to the animals, for\nthough they can manage with very little food in Australia, at a pinch,\nthey must always have plenty of water.  They searched everywhere for\nit, through the scrub and over the plains; and the birds flew great\ndistances, always seeking with their eyes for a gleam of water.  But it\nhad quite gone.\n\nSo the animals held a council of war, and Mirran, the Kangaroo, spoke\nto them.  At a council, some one must always speak first, to tell those\npresent what they know already; and Mirran did this very thoroughly, so\nthat little Kur-bo-roo, the Native Bear, went to sleep and began to\nclimb up the legs of the Emu in his sleep, thinking she was a tree.\nThis led to a disturbance, and it was some time before Mirran could go\non again with his speech.  Then he found he had forgotten the rest of\nwhat he meant to say, so he contented himself by asking them all what\nthey meant to do about it, and remarking that the matter was now open\nfor discussion.  This is a remark often made at meetings.\n\nThen Mirran sat down thankfully, but in his relief at finishing his\nspeech he sat on Kowern, the Porcupine; and Kowern is the most\nuncomfortable seat in the Bush.  Mirran got up more quickly than he had\nsat down, and again there was disorder in the meeting, especially as\nthe Jackass was unfeeling enough to laugh.\n\nWhen matters were more quiet, Kellelek, the Cockatoo, made a long\nspeech, but it was hard to understand what he said, because all his\nbrothers would persist in speaking at the same time.  Every one knew\nthat he wanted water, but as every one was in the same fix, it did not\nseem to help along matters to have him say so.  Booran, the Pelican,\nwas even more troubled about it than Kellelek, for of course he lived\non the water, and he wanted fish badly.  All the fish had disappeared,\nand the eels had buried themselves deep in the soft mud of the beds of\nthe rivers and creeks, and none of the water-fowl had any food.  The\nRed Wallaby, Waat, and old Warreen, the bad-tempered Wombat, made\nspeeches, and so did Meri, the black Dingo, and Tonga, the 'Possum, and\na great many other animals.  But not one could suggest any means of\ngetting water back, or form an idea as to how it had gone away.\n\nThey were all talking together, getting rather hot and excited, and\nvery thirsty, when they heard a sudden whirr of wings overhead, and a\nbird came dropping down into their midst.  It was Tarook, the Sea Gull,\nand though at first they were inclined to be angry at his sudden\nappearance, they soon saw that he had news to communicate, and so they\ncrowded round him and begged him to speak.  Tarook was a proud bird,\nand did not often leave his beloved sea; so they knew that something\nimportant must have brought him so far inshore.\n\nHe stood in their midst, dainty and handsome, with his snowy feathers\nand scarlet legs, and carefully brushed a fragment of grass from his\nwing before replying.\n\n\"Waga, the Fish-Hawk, came along this morning--in a shocking temper,\ntoo--and told me of your difficulties,\" he said.  \"Well, we of the sea\nknow what has caused them!\"\n\nThere was an instant hubbub.  All the animals and birds cried out at\nonce, saying, \"What is it?\"  Tarook looked at them all calmly.\n\n\"If you make such a clatter, how can I tell you?\" he asked crossly.  \"I\nhave not much time either, because my mate and I have youngsters to\nlook after, and it is nearly time I got back to find their dinner.\"\n\nThe animals became silent at once, and looked at him anxiously.\n\n\"Three nights ago,\" said Tarook, \"Tat-e-lak, the big Frog, came out of\nthe sea.  Every one knows he lives there, but none of us had ever seen\nhim--and he is as large as many wurleys.  All the sea was troubled at\nhis coming, and big waves rolled in and beat upon the shore, so that we\ncould scarcely see the rocks for spray.  A hollow booming sound came\nfrom under the sea, and all our young ones were very much alarmed.\nThen a wave larger than all the rest put together crashed into the\nbeach, and when it began to roll back we saw Tat-e-lak waddling up the\nshore.  Most frogs hop, but he is so huge that he gets along in a kind\nof shuffle.\"\n\n\"But where did he go?\" cried Kadin, the Inguana-lizard.\n\n\"He waddled away into the plains beyond, and when I flew in to look for\nhim, for awhile I could not find him.  Then I heard a strange noise of\nwater sucking, and I flew to where it came from.  There was a hollow in\nthe creek bank, and Tat-e-lak was sitting there, with his head in the\nwater, sucking it all up; and as he sucked, he swelled.  It was not a\nnice sight, and soon I flew away.\"\n\n\"But where is he now?  And what did he do?\" asked the animals anxiously.\n\n\"I did not watch him any more.  But the West Wind knows all about him,\nand he told me when I was out fishing last night.  It seems that\nTat-e-lak lives under the sea, because of his former sins, and that is\nwhy he has grown so huge.  But he always wants to come back to land,\nand sometimes he breaks away from his prison under the sea and gets up\nto the surface--and a great stir his coming makes: it's very annoying\nif you're fishing, for it scares all the fish away into the farthest\ncorners of the rocks.  But the salt water he has drunk for so long\nmakes him terribly thirsty, and unless he can get fresh water to drink\nhe has to go back to his sea-prison.\"\n\n\"Then that is why he has drunk all of ours!\" cried the animals.\n\nTarook nodded very hard.\n\n\"Yes,\" he said.  \"It is very seldom that he gets a chance of coming up;\nand his last three landings have been made in the desert, where he has\nhad no water at all, and has been forced to hurry back meekly to the\nsea.  So he is now more thirsty than he ever was before.  The West Wind\nsays he did not stop drinking until this morning--and now there is no\nwater anywhere, as you know.\"\n\n\"Then how shall we ever get any more?  Are we to die of thirst?\"\n\n\"Well, that I do not know.  I have told you all that I know,\" said\nTarook.  \"Tat-e-lak is somewhere on shore, and so far as I can tell,\nall the water is inside him.  But I do not know where he is, nor if you\ncan do anything.  Now I must go back to my young ones, for they will\ncertainly be hungry, and my mate will be cross.\"  He bowed to the\nKangaroo, and flew up into the air.  Then he went skimming over the\nforest to the sea.\n\nWhen he had gone, the animals talked again, but there was great grief\namong them, and they did not know what to do.  At last it was agreed\nthat Malian, the Eaglehawk, should fly to the shore and find out\nanything he could about Tat-e-lak.  So huge a Frog, they thought, could\nnot hide himself from the eyes of an Eaglehawk, which can see even a\nlittle shrew-mouse in the grass as he flies.  So Mirran, the Kangaroo,\nbade Malian be as quick as possible, and he flew off, while all the\npeople awaited his return as patiently as they could.  But they were\ntoo thirsty to be very patient.\n\nIt was evening when Malian returned.  The day had seemed very long, and\nhe was tired, for it is not easy to fly for a long while without water.\n\n\"Tat-e-lak is the most terrible Frog you could imagine,\" he said.  \"He\nis squatting on a rise not far from the sea, and he has drunk so much\nthat he cannot move.  His body is swelled up so that he is bigger than\nanything that ever existed: bigger than the little hill on which he\nsits.  Nothing could possibly be so large as he is.  He does not speak\nat all.\"\n\n\"But what is to be done?\" cried the other animals.\n\n\"I asked every one I met, but they could not tell me.  So at last I\nfound old Blook, the Bullfrog, for it struck me that he would know more\nof the ways of other Frogs than anyone else.  I found him with great\ndifficulty, and for a long time he was too angry to speak, for he has\nnow no water to remain in, and none to drink.  But he knows all about\nTat-e-lak.  He says that now he has inside him all the waters that\nshould cover the waste places of the earth, but that we shall never\nhave water unless he can be made to laugh!\"\n\n\"To laugh!\" cried the animals.  \"Who can make a Frog laugh?\"\n\n\"Blook knows he cannot, so that is why he is angry,\" answered Malian.\n\"But that is the only way.  If Tat-e-lak laughs, all the water will run\nout of his mouth, and there will once more be plenty for every one.\nBut unless he laughs he will sit there for ever, unable to move; and\nsoon we shall all die of thirst.\"\n\nThe animals talked over this bad news for a long time, and at last they\nagreed that every one who could be at all funny must go and try to make\nTat-e-lak laugh.  A great many at once said that they could be funny;\nbut when they were tried, their performances were so dull that most of\nthose who looked on were quite annoyed, and refused to let them go near\nthe Frog, for fear he should lose his temper instead of laughing.\nHowever, every one was too thirsty to wait to try all those willing to\nundertake to make him merry: and they set off through the Bush in a\nqueer company, the animals running, hopping or walking, the snakes and\nreptiles crawling, and the birds flying overhead.  \"The water will run\nback to you before we do!\" they cried to the wives and young ones they\nwere leaving behind.  But that was just a piece of brave talk, for in\nreality they did not feel at all sure about it.  They hurried through\nthe scrub, getting more and more scattered as they went along, for the\nswift ones would not wait for those who were slower.  In the early\nmorning the leaders came out of the trees, and found themselves on a\nswampy plain leading to the sea.  All the water had dried up, and a\ncreek that had its course through it was also dry.  It was a very\ndreary-looking place.\n\nNot far from the beach there was a little hill; and, sitting on it,\nthey saw the monster Frog.  He was a terrible creature in appearance,\nfor he was so immense that the hill was lost under him, just like a\nhugely fat man sitting on a button mushroom.  He was so swelled up that\nit seemed that if anything pricked him he would burst like a balloon;\nbut when they came near him they saw how thick his skin was, and knew\nthat no prick would go through it.  His beady eyes were bulging out,\nand though they tried to attract his attention, he only gazed out to\nsea and took no notice of them at all.\n\n\"Well, he has certainly had a great drink, but he does not look as if\nhe had enjoyed it,\" remarked Mirran, hopping round him.\n\n\"I should think he would find himself more comfortable under the sea\nthan sitting on that poor little hill!\" said Merkein, the Jackass.\n\n\"He will probably go back to the sea,\" the Native Companion answered.\n\"Let us hope he will not take all the water with him.\"\n\n\"How uncomfortable he must be!--why, he is like a mountain!\" hissed\nMumung, the Black Snake.  \"May I not go and bite him?\"\n\n\"Certainly not!\" said Mirran hastily.  \"It might make him angry; or he\nmight die, and we do not want the water poisoned.  Unless you can make\nhim laugh, you had better get into your hole!\"  So Mumung subsided,\nmuttering angrily to himself.\n\nThen the animals began to try to make the Frog laugh.  It was the first\ncircus that ever was in Australia.  They danced and capered and pranced\nbefore him, and the birds sang him the most ridiculous songs they could\nthink of, and the insects sat on his head and told him the funniest\nstories they had gathered in flying round the world: but he did not\ntake the smallest notice of any of them.  His bulging eyes saw them\nall, but not a word did he say.\n\nIt is very hard to be funny when nobody laughs, and the animals soon\nbecame rather disheartened.  But Mirran would not let them stop.  He\nhimself did most wonderful jumps before the Frog, and once hopped right\nover the Emu, who looked so comical when she saw the great body sailing\nover her that all the animals burst out laughing; but the Frog merely\nlooked as though he would like to go to sleep.  Then Menak, the\nBandicoot, brought his brothers, and performed all kinds of antics; and\nthe 'Possums climbed up a little tree and hung from its boughs, and\nwere very funny in their gymnastics; and the Dingo and his tribe held a\ncoursing match round the hill on which the Frog sat, going so fast that\nno one could see where one yellow dog ended and the next began; but\nnone of these things amused the Frog at all.  He stared straight in\nfront of him, and, if possible, he looked a little more bulgy.  But\nthat was all.\n\nThe animals held another council, and tried to think of other funny\nthings.  Mirran remembered how the Jackass had laughed when he had sat\ndown on Kowern, the Porcupine, and though that had been a most\nunpleasant experience for him, he bravely offered to do it again.\nKowern, however, did not like the idea, and scuttled away into a hole,\nand they had great difficulty in finding him--and when they did find\nhim, it was quite another matter to make him come out.  At last they\ninduced him to appear, and to let Mirran sit on him.  But it was not a\nsuccessful experiment.  Perhaps Mirran was nervous, for he knew how it\nfelt to sit on Kowern's quills; and so he let himself down gently, and\nKowern gave a heavy groan, but no one even smiled.  As for the Frog, he\nwas heard to snore.  It was all rather hard on Mirran, for the\nexperiment hurt him just as much as if it had been quite successful.\n\nSo the day went on, and when it was nearly evening, the animals could\ndo no more: and still Tat-e-lak sat and stared stupidly before him, and\nlooked more and more huge and bulgy in the gathering darkness; and\nWaat, the Red Wallaby, declared that the little hill he sat on was\nbeginning to flatten under his weight.  They were quite hopeless, at\nlast.  All were so tired and thirsty that they could not have attempted\nmore antics, even had they known any, but, indeed, they had done\neverything they knew.  They sat in a half-circle round the great Frog\nand looked at him sadly; and the Frog sat on his hill and did not look\nat anything at all.\n\nJust about this time, Noy-Yang, the great Eel, woke up.  He was lying\nin a deep crack in the muddy bed of the creek, and when the mud dried\nand hardened it pinched him, and he squirmed and woke.  To his\nsurprise, there was no water anywhere.  Noy-Yang wriggled out of his\ncrack, very astonished and indignant.\n\nHe found all the creek-bed dry, as you know; so he wriggled across it\nand up the bank, and came out on a little mud-flat by the sea.  There\nhe looked about him.  On one side the sea rippled, but Noy-Yang knew\nthat its water was no good for him.  On the other was only dry\nland--the swampy ground he knew and loved, but now there was no water\nin it.  It was very puzzling to a sleepy Eel.\n\nHe looked a little farther and saw the great Frog sitting on his hill.\nBut he looked so huge that Noy-Yang thought the hill had simply grown\nbigger while he slept; and though that was surprising, it was not\nnearly so surprising as finding no water.  Then he saw all the animals\nsitting about him, but he took no notice of them.  All he cared for was\nto get away from this hot, dry mud, and find a cool creek running over\nits soft bed.\n\nSo he wriggled on, making very good time across the flat.  Nobody saw\nhim, for all the animals were looking miserably at the Frog.\n\nKowern, the Porcupine, had felt very sore and bruised after Mirran had\nsat on him for the second time.  He was a sulky fellow, and he did not\nwant to be sat on any more, even if it were for the good of all the\npeople.  \"Mirran will be making a habit of this soon,\" he said crossly;\n\"I will get out of the way.\"  So he hurried off, and got into the\nnearest hole, which happened to be near the edge of the mud-flat.\nThere he went to sleep.\n\nNoy-Yang came wriggling along, hating the hard ground, and only wanting\nto get to a decent creek.  He was in such a hurry that he did not see\nKowern, and he wiggled right across him--and it seemed to him that each\nof Kowern's spines found a different place in his soft body.\n\nNoy-Yang cried out very loudly and threw himself backwards to get off\nthose dreadful spikes.  He was too sore to creep at all: the only part\nof him that was not hurt was the very point of his tail, and he stood\nup on that and danced about in his wrath and pain, with his body\nwriggling in the air, and his mouth wide open.  And when the monster\nFrog caught sight of the Eel dancing on his tail on the mud-flat, he\nopened his mouth and let out such a great shout of laughter as had\nnever been heard before in the world or will ever be heard again.\n\nThen all the waters came rushing out of the Frog's mouth, and in a\nmoment the dry swamp was filled with it, and a sheet of water rushed\nover the mud-flat where Noy-Yang was dancing, and carried him\naway--which was exactly what Noy-Yang liked, and made him forget all\nhis sores.  It was not so nice for Kowern, the Porcupine, for he was\nswept away, too, and as he could not swim, he was drowned.  But he was\nso bad-tempered that nobody cared very much.\n\nTat-e-lak went on laughing, and the water kept pouring out of his open\nmouth; and as he laughed he shrank and shrank, and his skin became\nflabby and hung in folds about him.  He shrank until he was only as\nlarge as a few ordinary frogs put together: and then he gave a loud\ncroak, and dived off into the water.  He swam away, and none of the\nanimals ever saw him again.\n\nAt that moment the animals were much too busy with their own affairs to\nthink much about Tat-e-lak.  When the water first appeared they rushed\nat it eagerly, and each drank as much as he could.  Then they felt\nbetter, and looked about them.  Mirran, the Kangaroo, was the first to\nmake a discovery.\n\n\"Ky!  It will be a flood!\" said he.\n\n\"A flood--nonsense!\" said Warreen, the Wombat.  \"Why, ten minutes ago\nit was a drought!\"\n\n\"Yes, and now it will be a flood,\" said Mirran, watching keenly.\n\"Look!\"\n\nThe water had run all over the plain, filling up the swamp, and already\nthe creek showed like a line of silver where but a few moments ago\nthere had been only dry mud.  But it was plain that the water could not\nget away quickly enough.  All the plain was like a sea, and there were\nbig waves washing round the little hills.\n\n\"Save yourselves!\" cried Mirran, to the people.  \"Soon there will be no\ndry land at all!\"\n\nHe set off with great bounds, thinking of his mate and the little ones\nhe had left in the forest.  Behind him came all the people, running,\njumping and crawling; and behind them came the water, in one great\nwave.  Some reached the high ground of the forest first, and found\nsafety, and others took refuge on hills, while those that could climb\nfled up trees.  But many could not get away quickly, and the waters\ncaught them, and they were drowned.\n\nNext morning the animals who were saved gathered at the edge of the\nforest and looked over the flood.  It stretched quite across the plain,\nand between it and the sea was only the yellow line of the\nsand-hummocks.  Nearer to the forest were a few little hills, and on\nthese could be seen forlorn figures, huddling together for warmth--for\nthe air had become very cold.\n\n\"There are some of our people!\" cried Mirran in a loud voice.  \"How are\nwe to rescue them?\"\n\nNo one could answer this question.  None of the animals could swim, and\nif they had been able to do so, they had still no way of getting the\ncastaways to dry land.  They could only look at them and weep because\nthey were so helpless.\n\nAfter awhile, Booran, the Pelican, came flying up, in a state of great\nexcitement.\n\n\"Have you seen them?\" he cried.  \"Waat is there, and little Tonga, the\n'Possum, and old Warreen, and a lot of others; and soon they will die\nof cold and hunger if they are not saved.  So I must save them.\"\n\n\"You!\" said all the animals.\n\n\"There's no need to say it in that tone!\" said Booran angrily.  \"I can\nmake a canoe and sail over quite easily.  It will please me very much\nto save the poor things.\"\n\nSo Booran cut a big bark canoe, which he called Gre.  He was very proud\nof it, and would not let anyone touch it or help him at all; and when\nit was finished he got in and paddled over to the little islands where\nthe animals shivered and shook, with soaked fur and heavy hearts.  They\ngrew excited when they saw Booran coming, and when he arrived, with his\ncanoe, they nearly tipped it over by all trying to get in at once.\nThis was repeated at each island, and at last Booran lost his temper\naltogether and threatened to leave them all where they were.  This\ndreadful idea made them very meek, and they were quite silent as Booran\npaddled them towards the shore.\n\nNow, Booran had not a pleasant nature.  It did not suit him to find\npeople meek, for it at once made him conceited and inclined to be a\nbully.  He felt very important, to be taking so many animals back in\nhis boat; and so he began to say rude things to them, and in every way\nto be unpleasant.  The animals bore this quietly for a time, for they\nwere too cold to want to dispute with him, and besides, they were\nreally very grateful for being saved.  But after a while, he became so\noverbearing that Waat, the Red Wallaby, answered him back sharply, and\nothers joined in.  Before they got to shore, they were all quarrelling\nviolently, and when they had only a few yards to go Booran suddenly\nstopped paddling, and jumped out so quickly that he upset the canoe,\nand threw all the animals into the water.  He swam off, chuckling, and\nsaying, \"That will help to cool your bad tempers!\"\n\nThe water was not deep, and the animals escaped with only a ducking.\nThey struggled to the dry land, very wet and miserable.\n\n\"That was a mean trick to play on us,\" said little Tonga, his teeth\nchattering.  \"I would like to fight Booran, if only he would come\nashore.  But he will keep out of our way now.\"\n\n\"Ky!  Look at him!\" said Waat.\n\nThey looked, and they saw Booran coming in rapidly, as though he were\nfloating on the water, and had no power to stop himself.  His eyes were\nfixed and glassy, and his great beak wide open.  A wave brought him\nright up on the shore, and blew over him in a cloud of spray.  When the\nspray had gone, Booran had gone, too; and where he had lain on the bank\nwas a big rock, shaped something like a pelican.\n\nThat was the story old Conara told me, as we fished for Murray cod\ntogether.  He said that all his people knew the rock, and called it the\nPelican Rock; and it stood on the plain long after Booran and his\nchildren's children's children were almost forgotten.  To-day the plain\nis dry, and no water ever lodges there; but when the blacks see the\nPelican Rock they think of the time when it was all in flood, when\nTat-e-lak, the great Frog, nearly caused all the animals to die of\nthirst, and when Noy-Yang, the Eel, saved them by dancing on his tail\non a mud-flat by the sea.\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nTHE MAIDEN WHO FOUND THE MOON\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nVery long ago, before the white man came to conquer the land, a tribe\nof black people lived in a great forest.  Beyond their country was a\nrange of mountains which separated them from another tribe of fierce\nand warlike blacks, and on one side they were bounded by the sea.  They\nwere a prosperous tribe, for not only was there plenty of game in the\nforest, to give them food and rugs of skins for clothing, but the sea\ngave them fish: and fish were useful both to eat and for their bones.\nThe blacks made many things out of fish-bones, and found them very\nuseful for tipping spears and other weapons.\n\nBeing so powerful a tribe, they were not much molested by other blacks.\nThe mountains to the north were their chief protection.  No wandering\nparties of fighting men were likely to cross them and surprise the\ntribe, for they were steep and rugged and full of ravines and deep\ngullies that were difficult to cross, unless you knew the right tracks.\nThe nearest tribe had come over more than once, and great battles had\ntaken place; but the sea-tribe was always prepared, for the noise of\ntheir coming was too great to be hidden.  There had been great fights,\nbut the sea-tribe had always won.  Now they were too strong to fear any\nattack.  So strong were they, indeed, that they did not trouble about\nfighting, but only wished to be peaceful.  Their life was a very simple\nand happy one, and they did not want anything better.\n\nThe tribe was called the Baringa tribe, and the name of its chief was\nWadaro.  He was a tall, silent man, very proud of his people and their\ncountry, and of his six big sons--all strong fighting-men, like\nhimself--but most of all, he was proud of his daughter, Miraga.\n\nMiraga was just of woman's age, and no girl in all the tribe was so\nbeautiful.  She was straight and supple as a young sapling, lissom as\nthe tendrils of the clematis, and beautiful as the dawn striking on the\nface of the waters.  Her deep eyes were full of light, and she was\nalways merry.  The little children loved her, and used to bring her\nblossoms of the red native fuchsia, to twine in her glossy black hair.\n\nMost blacks, men and women, look on everything they meet with one\nthought.  They ask, \"Is it good to eat?\"  But Miraga was different.\nShe had made friends with many of the little animals of the Bush, and\nthey were her playmates: bandicoots, shrew-mice, pouch-mice,\nkangaroo-rats, and other tiny things.  They were quite easy to tame, if\nanyone tried; even snappy little Yikaura, the native cat, with its\nspotted body and fierce sharp head, became quite gentle with Miraga,\nand did not try to touch her other pets.  She begged the tribe not to\neat the animals she loved, and they consented.  Of course, in many\ntribes it would have been necessary to go on using them for food, and\nany woman who tried to save them would only have been laughed at.  But\nthe Baringa folk had so much food that they could easily afford to\nspare these little furry things.  Besides, it was Miraga who asked, and\nwas she not the chief's daughter?\n\nHowever, it was not only because she was the chief's daughter that the\npeople loved Miraga and did what she asked them.  She was always kind\nand merry, and went about the camp singing happily, generally with a\ncluster of children running after her.  If anyone were sick she was\nvery good, bringing food and medicines.  Being the daughter of Wadaro,\nthe chief, she might have escaped all work; but instead, she did her\nshare, and used to go out digging for yams and other roots with the\nother girls of the tribe, the happiest of them all.\n\nThe tribe beyond the northern hills was called the Burrin.  They were\nvery fierce and had many fighting-men; but their country was not so\ngood as that of the Baringa, and they were very jealous of the happy\nsea-tribe.  One time they came to the conclusion that it was long since\nthey had had a fight--and that it would be a very good thing to try and\nwin the Baringa country.  They did not want to go over the mountains\nunprepared.  So they sent a picked band of young men, telling them to\ncross into the land of the Baringas and find out if they were very\nstrong, and if there were still much game in the forest.  They were not\nto fight, but only to prowl in the forest and watch the sea-tribe\nstealthily.  Then they were to return over the mountains with their\nreport, so that the head-men of the Burrin could decide whether it were\nwise to send all their fighting-men over to try and conquer the Baringa.\n\nThe little band of Burrin men set off with great pride.  Their leader\nwas the chief's son, Yurong, who was stronger than any man of his\ntribe, and of a very fierce and cruel nature.  He was not yet married,\nalthough that was only due to an accident.  Once he had been about to\ntake a wife, and had gone to her camp and hit her on the head with a\nwaddy, which was one of the blacks' customs in some tribes, before\ncarrying her to his own wurley.  But he hit too hard, and the poor girl\ndied--which caused Yurong a great deal of inconvenience, because her\nparents wanted to kill him too.  It was only because he was the chief's\nson that he escaped with his life.  Now he was still unmarried, because\nno girl would look at him.  It made Yurong more bad-tempered than he\nwas naturally, and that is saying a good deal.  He had great hopes from\nthe expedition into the Baringa country.  If he came back successful,\nand won a name for himself as a fighter, he thought that all the\nmaidens of his tribe would admire him, and forget that he had been so\nready with his stick when he was betrothed first.\n\nYurong and his band left the plain where the Burrin tribe roamed, and\njourneyed over the mountains.  They did not find any great\ndifficulties, for they had been told where to find the best tracks, and\nthey had scarcely any loads to hamper them.  It was summer-time, and\nthe lightest of rugs served them for covering at night, even in the\nkeener air of the hills.  There was no difficulty in finding food or\nwater, and the stars were their guides.\n\nWhen they came to the country of the Baringas they went very\ncautiously, for they did not wish to encounter any of Wadaro's men.  In\nthe daytime they hid themselves in gullies or in bends of the creek,\nonly coming out when their scouts knew that no enemies were near; but\nat night they travelled fast, and before long they climbed up a great\nhill that lay across their path, and from its topmost peak they saw the\ngleaming line of the sea.  Then, watching, they saw camp-fire smoke\ndrifting over the trees; and they knew they had found Wadaro's camp.\n\nThey became more careful than ever, knowing that now was their greatest\ndanger.  Sometimes they hid in trees, or in caves in the rocks, all the\ntime watching, and noting in their memories the number of the men they\nsaw and the signs of abundance of game.  There was no doubt that this\nwas a far better country than their own, and they thirsted to possess\nit.  At the same time they could see how strong the Baringas were.\nEven their womenfolk were tall and straight and strong, and would help\nto fight for their land and their freedom.  The Burrin men used to see\nthem when they went out to dig in the Bush, a merry, laughing band.\nAlways with them was a beautiful girl with red flowers in her hair.\nYurong would watch her closely from his hiding-place, and he made up\nhis mind that when the fighting was over this girl should be the chief\npart of his share of the spoils.  He was so conceited that he never\ndreamed that his tribe would not win.\n\nBut misfortune fell upon Yurong and his little band.  They were\nprowling round the outskirts of Wadaro's camp one night when a woman,\nhushing her crying baby to sleep, caught a glimpse of the black forms\nflitting among the trees.  She gave the alarm silently, and silently\nthe fighting-men of the Baringas hurled themselves upon the intruders.\nThere was no time to flee: the Burrin men fought fiercely, knowing that\nescape was hopeless.  One by one, they were killed.\n\nYurong was the last left alive.  He turned and ran, when the last of\nhis comrades fell, a dozen Baringas at his heels.  The first he slew,\nturning on him and striking him down; then he ran on wildly, hearing\nbehind him the hard breathing of the pursuing warriors.\n\nSuddenly the ground under his feet gave way.  He fell, down, down, into\nblackness, shouting as he went; then he struck icy water with a great\nsplash.  When he came to the surface he could see the moonlight far\nabove him, and hear the voices of the Baringa men, loud and excited.\nThen he went under once more.\n\nOn the river-bank, steep and lofty, the Baringas watched the black pool\nwhere Yurong had disappeared.  There was no sign of life there.\n\n\"He is gone,\" they said at last.  \"No man ever came alive out of that\nplace.  Well, it is a good thing.\"  They watched awhile longer, and\nthen turned back to the camp, where songs of victory were ringing out\namong the trees.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nBut Yurong did not die.\n\nWhen he sank for the second time, he did it on purpose.  The fall had\nnot hurt him, and his mind worked quickly, for he knew that only\ncunning could save him.  He swam under water for a few moments, letting\nhimself go with the current.  But presently a kind of eddy dragged him\ndown, and he found himself against a wall of rock, which blocked the\nway, so that there seemed to be no escape.  But even in his agony he\nremembered that so long as the current ran there must be some way out;\nand he dived deeply into the eddy.  It took him through a hole in the\nrock, far under the water, scraping him cruelly against the edges; but\nstill, he was through, and on the other side he rose, gasping.  Here\nthe river was wider and shallower, and not so swift.  Yurong let it\ncarry him for awhile; then he scrambled out on one side, and found a\nhiding-place under a great boulder.  He rubbed himself down with\nrushes, shivering.  Then, crouching in his hole, he slept.\n\nWhen he awoke, he knew that now he should not lose a moment in getting\nback to his tribe.  He had learned the fighting strength of the\nBaringas, with all else that he had come to find out; but, besides\nthat, he had now the deaths of his comrades to avenge.  And yet, three\ndays later, Yurong was still in hiding near the enemy's camp.  He had\nmade up his wicked mind that when he went away he would take with him\nthe beautiful girl he had so often seen in the forest with her\ncompanions.\n\nQuite unconscious of her danger, Miraga went about her daily work.  The\nsight of her, and the beauty of her, burned into Yurong's brain; often\nin the forest he dogged her footsteps, but the other girls were always\nnear her, and he dared not try to carry her away.  He knew now she was\nthe chief's daughter, and he smiled to think that through her he could\ndeal the cruellest blow to Wadaro, besides gaining for himself the\nloveliest wife in all the Bush.\n\nBut out in the scrub the girls clustered about Miraga, and in the camp\nthe young men were never far from her.  There was not one of them who\nwould not have gladly taken her as his bride, but she told her father\nthat she was too young to think of being married, and Wadaro was glad\nenough to keep her by his side.  But Yurong, fiercely jealous, could\nsee that there was one man on whom Miraga's eyes would often turn when\nhe was not looking in her direction--a tall fellow named Konawarr--the\nSwan--who loved her so dearly that indeed he scarcely gave her a chance\nto look at him, since he so rarely took his gaze from her!  He was the\nleader of the young fighting-men, and a great hunter; and Yurong\nthirsted to kill him, as the kangaroos thirst for the creeks in summer,\nwhen Drought has laid his withering hand upon the waters.\n\nSo five days went by.  In the forest Yurong hid, living on very little\nfood--for he dared not often go hunting--and always watching the camp;\nand Miraga, never dreaming of the danger near her, lived her simple,\nhappy life.  The children always thronged round her when she moved\nabout the camp, and she would pause to fondle the little naked black\nbabies that tumbled round the wurleys, tossing them in the air until\nthey shouted with laughter.  Yurong saw with amazement how the little\nanimals came to her and played at her feet, and it impressed him\ngreatly with a sense of the wealth of the Baringa tribe.  \"Ky!\" he said\nto himself, \"they are able to use food for playthings!\"  Never before\nhad he dreamed of such a thing.\n\nOne evening the girls went out into the scrub, yam-digging, each\ncarrying her yam-stick and dilly-bag--the netted bag into which the\nblack women put everything, from food to nose-ornaments.  Miraga's was\nwoven of red and white rushes, with a quaint pattern on one side, and\nshe was very proud of it, for it had been Konawarr's gift.  She was\nthinking of his kind eyes as she walked through the trees, brushing\naside tendrils of starry clematis and wild convolvulus, and finding a\nway through musk and hazel thickets.  He had looked at her very gently\nwhen he gave her the bag, and she knew that she could trust him.  She\nwas very happy as she wandered on--so happy that she did not notice for\na while that she had strayed some distance from the other girls, and\nthat already the shadows were creeping about the forest to make the\ndarkness.\n\n\"I am too far from camp,\" she said aloud.  \"I must hurry back, or my\nfather will be angry.\"\n\nShe turned to retrace her steps, pausing a moment to make sure of her\ndirection.  Then, from the gloom of a tall clump of dogwood, something\nsprang upon her and seized her.  She struggled, sending a stifled cry\ninto the forest--but it died as a heavy blow from a waddy took away her\nsenses.  Yurong carried her swiftly away.\n\nDay came, and found them still fleeing, Miraga a helpless burden in her\ncaptor's arms.  Days and nights passed, and still they travelled\nnorthwards, across the rivers, the forest, and the mountains.  They\nwent slowly, for at length Yurong could carry the girl no farther, and\nat first she was too weak to walk much.  Even when she grew stronger\nshe still pretended to be weak, doing all in her power to delay their\nflight--always straining her ears in the wild hope that behind her she\nmight hear the feet of the men coming to save her--led by Wadaro and by\nKonawarr.  Somewhere, she knew, they were searching for her.  But as\nthe days went by, and no help came, her heart began to sink hopelessly.\n\nYurong was not unkind to her.  He treated her gently enough, telling\nher she was to be his wife, but she hated him more and more deeply each\nhour.  Thinking her very weak, he let her travel slowly, and helped her\nover the rough places, though she shrank from his touch.  But he took\nno risks with her.  He kept his weapons carefully out of her reach, and\nat night, when they slept, he bound her feet and hands with strips of\nkangaroo-hide, so that she might not try to escape.\n\nThen they came to the topmost crest of the mountains, and below them\nYurong could see the country of his people.  At that, Miraga gave up\nall hope.  They camped on the ridge that night; and for the first time\nshe sobbed herself to sleep.\n\nShe woke up a while later, with a sound of little whispers in her ears.\nIt was quite dark inside the wurley; but she heard a patter of tiny,\nscurrying feet, and a few faint squeaks.  Miraga lay very still,\ntrembling.  Then a shrill little voice came, very close to her.\n\n\"Mistress--oh, mistress!\"\n\n\"Who is it?\" she whispered.\n\n\"We are your Little People,\" came the faint voice.  \"Lie very still,\nand we will set you free!\"\n\nOn her hand, Miraga felt a patter of tiny feet, like snowflakes\nfalling.  They ran all over her body; she felt them down at her bare\nankles, and near her face.  She knew them now, though it was\ndark--little Padi-padi, the pouch-mouse, and Punta, the shrew-mouse,\nand Kanungo, the kangaroo-rat, with the bandicoot, Talka.  They were\nall her friends--her Little People.  Dozens of them seemed to be there\nin the dark, nibbling furiously at the strips of hide on her wrists and\nankles.\n\nHow long the time seemed as she lay, trembling, in great fear lest\nYurong should awaken!  The very sound of her own breathing was loud in\nher ears, and the faint rustlings of the Little People seemed a noise\nthat must surely wake the sleeping warrior.  But Yurong was tired, and\nhe slept soundly: and the Little People worked hard.  At last the bonds\nfell apart and she was free.\n\nGliding like a snake, she crept out of the wurley, and ran swiftly into\nthe forest that clothed the mountains.  But scarcely had she gone when\nYurong woke and found she was not there.\n\nHe sprang to his feet with a shout, grasping his weapons, and rushed\noutside.  There was no sign of Miraga--but his quick ear caught the\nsound of a breaking twig in the forest, and he raced in pursuit.  Again\nhe heard it, this time so close that he knew she could not be more than\na few yards away.  Then he found himself suddenly on the edge of a\ngreat wall of rock, and there was no time to stop.  He shouted again,\nin despair, as he fell--down, down.  Then no more sounds came.\n\nBut just on the edge of the precipice three bandicoots came out of a\nheap of dry sticks, laughing.\n\n\"That was easily done,\" said one.  \"It was only necessary to jump up\nand down among the sticks and break a few, and the silly fellow made\nsure it was Miraga.\"\n\n\"Well, he will not make any more foolish mistakes,\" said his brother.\n\"But is it not surprising to find how simple these humans are!\"\n\n\"All but our mistress,\" the first said.  \"Come--we must make haste to\nfollow her, or else we shall have another long hunt.  And nobody knows\nwhat mischief she may fall into, if we are not there to look after her!\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nMiraga ran swiftly into the heart of the forest, glancing back in\nterror, lest at any moment she should see Yurong.  She heard him shout,\nand the crash of his feet in pursuit as he plunged out of the wurley;\nand for a moment she gave herself up for lost.  He was so swift and so\nstrong: she knew that she could never escape him, once he was on her\ntrack.\n\nAnother cry reached her presently, not so close.  It gave her her first\nthrob of hope that Yurong had taken the wrong turning among the trees.\nStill she was far too terrified to slacken speed.  She fled on, not\nknowing where she was going.\n\nA great mountain peak loomed before her, and she fled up it.  It was\nhard climbing, but it seemed to her safer than the dark forest, where\nat any moment Yurong's black face might appear.  Here, at least, she\nmight be safe; at least, he would not think of looking for her in this\nwild and rugged place.  Perhaps, if she hid on the mountain for a few\ndays he would grow tired of looking for her, and go away, back to his\nown people; and then she could try to find her way home.  At the very\nthought of home, poor Miraga sobbed as she ran: it seemed so long since\nthe happy days in the camp by the sea.\n\nThe way was strange.  She climbed up, among great boulders and jagged\ncrags of rock.  Above her the peaks seemed to pierce the sky.  Deep\nravines were here and there, and she started away from their edges:\nsomewhere, water fell swiftly, racing down some narrow bed among the\nrocks.  So she went on, and the moonlight grew stronger and stronger,\nuntil it flooded all the mountain.  She fought her way, step by step,\nup the last great peak.  And, suddenly, in the midnight, she came out\nupon a great and shining tableland: then she knew that in her\njourneyings she had found the Moon!\n\n[Illustration: \"Then she knew that in her journeyings she had found the\nMoon!\"]\n\nShe wandered on, in doubt and fear--fear, not of this strange new land,\nbut of the men she dreaded to find there.  But for a long time she saw\nno people.  Only in the dim hours, when the earth-world glowed like a\nstar, but all the moon-country was dark, there came about her the\nLittle People that she knew and loved--Padi-padi, and Punta, Talka and\nKanungo.  And because she was very lonely, and a lonely woman loves the\ntouch of something small and soft, she took some of them up and carried\nthem with her in her dilly-bag.\n\n\"How did you know I was lost?\" she asked them.\n\n\"How did we know?\" they said, laughing at her.  \"Why, all the forest\nsang of it!  The magpie chattered it in the dewy mornings, and\nMoko-Moko, the Bell-Bird, told all about it to the creeks in the\ngullies.  Moko-Moko would not leave his quiet places to tell the other\nanimals, but he knew the creeks would carry the story.  Soon there was\nno animal in all the Bush that did not know where you had gone.  Only\nwe could not tell your own stupid people, for they would not\nunderstand.\"\n\n\"And are they looking for me?\" Miraga asked.\n\n\"They seek for you night and day.  Your father has led a party of\nfighting-men to the east, and Konawarr has gone north with all his\nfriends.  They never rest--all the time they seek you.  And the women\nare wailing in the camp, and the little children crying, because you\nare gone.\"\n\nThat made Miraga cry, too.\n\n\"Can you not take me back?\" she begged.  \"I can go if you will show me\nthe way.\"\n\nBut the Little People shook their heads.\n\n\"No, we cannot do that,\" they said.  \"We can help you, and we can talk\nto you, but we may not take you back.  You must find the way yourself.\"\n\nSo Miraga wandered on through the Moon-Country.  It was very desolate\nand bare, strewn with rocks and craggy boulders, and to walk long upon\nit was hard for naked feet.  There were no rivers, and no creeks, but a\nrange of mountains rose in one place, and were so grim and terrible\nthat Miraga would not try to climb them.  She found stunted trees,\nbearing berries, which she ate, for she was very hungry.\n\n\"Perhaps they are poisonous, and will kill me,\" she said.  \"I do not\nthink that greatly matters, for I begin to feel that I shall never get\nhome.\"\n\nBut the berries were not poisonous.  Indeed, Miraga felt better when\nshe had eaten them.  Her strength came back to her, and her limbs grew\nless weary.  She put some of the berries into her dilly-bag for the\nLittle People.  Then she set off on her wanderings again.\n\nShe did not know how long she had been in the Moon-Country, after a\nwhile.  It seemed that she had never done anything but find her way\nacross its rugged plains, seeking ever for the track back to the green\nEarth-World.  So silent and strange was it that she began to think\nthere was no living being upon it but herself and the Little People she\ncarried with her.\n\nOne day, wandering along a rocky edge, she quite suddenly came upon the\ncamp of the Man-Who-Dwells-In-The-Moon.  She cried out in fear, and\nfled.  But he was awake, and when he saw this beautiful girl, he rose\nand gave chase.\n\nBut Miraga was fleet of foot; and the Man-Who-Dwells-In-The-Moon was a\nfat man, and heavy: for, as the blacks know, he never goes hunting, as\nmen do, but always sits down in the shadow of his mountains.\nPresently, he saw that the girl was escaping; she drew farther and\nfarther ahead, running like a dingo, and already he was puffing and\npanting.  So he stamped his foot and called to his dogs, and they came\nout of the holes of the hills--great savage brutes, lean and\nhungry-looking, of a dark colour.  They came, running and growling, and\nsniffing angrily at the air.  Their master waved his hand, and they\nuttered a long howl and followed swiftly after Miraga.\n\nNow, indeed, she thought that her end had come.  Mists swam before her\neyes, and her feet stumbled: she, whose limbs were so lithe and strong,\ntottered like a weary old woman.  Behind her, the long howls of the\ndogs woke terror in her heart.  They drew nearer; almost she could feel\ntheir hot panting breath.  But just as she was about to sink down,\nexhausted, the Little People in the dilly-bag chattered and called to\nher.  \"Mistress!  Oh, Mistress!\" they cried.  \"Let us out, that we may\nsave you!\"\n\nShe heard them, and fumbled with shaking fingers at the fastening of\nthe bag.  It slipped from her shoulders, and fell to the ground; and as\nit fell, the animals burst out and fled in many directions, some here\nand some there, squeaking and chattering.  And when the fierce Dogs of\nthe Moon saw them, they forgot to pursue Miraga, but turned and coursed\nswiftly after the animals.\n\nBehind them the Man-Who-Dwells-In-The-Moon shouted vainly to them.\nThere are no animals in the Moon-Country, and so the Dogs have no\nchance of hunting; but the sight of the scampering Little People woke\ntheir instincts, and they dashed after them wildly.  They caught some,\nand swiftly slew them; others dodged, and leaped, and twisted, escaping\ninto little rockholes, where the dogs could not follow them.  The noise\nof the hunting and the deep baying of the Dogs echoed round the Moon\nand made thunder boom among the Stars.\n\nBut Miraga ran on, stumbling for weariness.  She knew that the Dogs\nwere no longer close upon her, but she dreaded to hear them again at\nany moment, for she did not see how such feeble Little People could\nkeep them off for long.  So she ran, and as she went, her tears fell\nfor the little friends who had given their lives for her.  At last, too\ntired to see where her stumbling feet had led her, she came to the\nbrink of a great precipice, and fell down and down, until her senses\nleft her.\n\nBut when she opened her eyes again, it was to meet those of Konawarr;\nand he was holding her in his arms and calling her name over and over,\nwith his voice full of pity and love; and behind him were his\nfriends--all the band who had been seeking her with him.  They were all\nsmiling to her, with welcome and joy on each friendly face.  For in her\nfall she had come back to the dear Earth-World once more, and her\nsorrows were at an end.\n\nSo, when the tribes look up to the sky on moonlit nights and see the\ngreat shape that looms across the brightness, they say it is the mighty\nMan-Who-Dwells-In-The-Moon; who, like themselves, is black, but grown\nheavy and slothful with much idleness and sitting-down.  The parents\nscare idle children with his name, saying that if they do not bestir\nthemselves they, too, will become fat and useless like him.  But Miraga\nused to tell her children another story, and when she told it her eyes\nwould brim with tears.  It was the story of the Little People she\nloved, who followed her to the Moon-Country, and there gave up their\nlives for her, saving her first from Yurong, and then from the teeth of\nthe Dogs of the Moon.  And the children would shiver a little,\nclustering more closely--all save little Konawarr, who would grasp his\ntiny boomerang and declare that he would kill anything that dared to\nhurt his mother.\n\nThe great dogs still crouch around the Man-Who-Dwells-In-The-Moon,\nwaiting to do his bidding.  You can see them, if you look closely--dark\nspots, near the huge figure in the midst of the brightness.  They are\nthe fierce Dogs that guard the lonely country in the sky: the Dogs that\nlong ago hunted, howling, after Miraga the Beautiful, across the\nshining spaces of the Moon.\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\nMIRRAN AND WARREEN\n\nMirran, the Kangaroo, and Warreen, the Wombat, were once men.  They did\nnot belong to any tribe, but they lived together, and were quite happy.\nNobody wanted them, and they did not want anybody.  So _that_ was quite\nsatisfactory.\n\nWarreen was the first.  All his tribe had been drowned in a flood,\nleaving him quite alone.  So he found a good camping-place, where there\nwere both shelter and water, and he made himself a camp of bark, which\nhe called, in the language of his tribe, a willum.  He was not in a\nhurry when he was making it, so he did it well, and no rain could\npossibly come through it.  One side of it was a big rock, which made it\nvery strong, so that no wind was likely to blow it away.  Overhead a\nbeautiful clump of yellow rock-lilies drooped gracefully.  Not that\nWarreen cared for lilies; and this particular clump annoyed him, for\nthe rock was too steep for him to climb up and eat the lily-roots.\n\nHe had been living there for some time, very lazy and contented, when\none day Mirran appeared.  At first Warreen thought he meant to fight,\nand that also annoyed him, because he hated fighting.  But Mirran soon\nshowed him that he only wanted to be friends; and then Warreen\ndiscovered that he was very glad to have some one with whom he could\ntalk.  So after the manner of men, they sat down and yarned all day.\n\nSeveral times during the day Mirran said, \"I must be going.\"  But\nWarreen always answered, \"Oh, don't go yet\"; and they went on talking\nharder than ever.  Night came, and Mirran said, \"It is really time I\nmade a move.\"  Warreen said, \"Why not stay the night?  I can put you\nup.\"  They talked it over for a while, and then it was quite too late\nfor Mirran to go.  So he stayed all night, and in the morning Warreen\nsaid, \"Why not spare me a few days, now that you are here?\"  Mirran\nwillingly agreed to this, for he had nothing to do, and he thought it\nvery nice of Warreen to put the invitation that way.\n\nThey became great friends.  Mirran was tall and thin and sinewy, while\nWarreen was very short and dumpy, and exceedingly fat.  Also, he was\nlazy, and he liked having some one to help him get food, at which\nMirran was very quick and clever.\n\nMirran also was the last of his tribe.  The others had been killed by\nwarlike blacks, and Mirran would have been killed also, but that he\nmanaged to swim across a river and get away into the scrub.  He was\nvery active and fleet of foot, and delighted in running, which was an\nexercise that bored Warreen very badly.  Soon they made an arrangement\nby which Mirran did all the hunting, while Warreen dug for yams and\nother roots, and prepared the food, just as a woman does.  It suited\nthem both very well.\n\nMirran had one peculiarity that Warreen at first thought exceedingly\nfoolish.  He did not like to sleep indoors.  It was summer time when he\ncame, and he would not build himself a willum, but slept upon a soft\nbed of grass under the stars.  If a cold night came, or even a rainy\none, he rolled himself in his 'possum rug and slept just as happily.\nWarreen began by thinking he was mad.  But as time went on he often\nslept outside with Mirran, himself, especially on those nights when\nthey were talking very hard and did not want to leave off.  Warreen\nused to grumble at the hardness of the ground, but he was really very\nmuch better for staying outside, in the fresh night-air.  His little\nwillum was a very stuffy place.\n\nSometimes he would think about the Winter, and say to Mirran:\n\n\"When are you going to build your willum?\"\n\n\"Oh, there is plenty of time,\" Mirran would say.\n\n\"The cold weather will be here, and then what will you do?\"\n\n\"Oh, I expect I shall have my camp ready in time.  It will not take me\nlong to build it, when the time comes.\"\n\n\"If you are not very careful, you will find yourself caught by the\nWinter, and you will not like that,\" said Warreen.  But Mirran only\nlaughed and talked about something else.  He hated building, and was\nanxious to put it off as long as possible.\n\nWarreen had a very suspicious mind, and it often made him believe very\nstupid things.  He was the kind of man who was best living alone,\nbecause so often he got foolish ideas into his head about other people,\nand imagined he had cause for offence when there was really none at\nall.  So he began to wonder why Mirran would not build a camp, and the\nthought came to him that perhaps he did not intend to build at all, but\nmeant to take possession of his own willum.  Of course, that was\nridiculous, for Mirran was only lazy, and kept saying to himself,\n\"To-morrow I will build\"; and when to-morrow came, he would say, \"Oh,\nit is beautiful weather; I need not worry about building for a few days\nyet.\"  So he went on putting it off, and Warreen went on being\nsuspicious, until sometimes he felt sorry he had ever asked Mirran to\nlive with him.  But Mirran sang and joked, and hunted, and had no idea\nthat Warreen was making himself uneasy by such stupid thoughts.\n\nOne night, clouds came drifting over the sky, after a hot day, and\nWarreen said, \"I am not going to sleep outside to-night.\"\n\n\"I don't think it will rain,\" said Mirran.  \"It is much cooler out\nhere.\"\n\n\"Yes, but one soon forgets that when one is asleep.  I hate getting\nwet,\" said Warreen.\n\n\"Well, just as you like,\" Mirran answered.  \"For my part, I am too fond\nof the stars to leave them.\"  So he spread his 'possum rug in a soft\nplace, and lay down.  In a few minutes he was fast asleep, and Warreen\nwent off to bed feeling rather bad-tempered, though he could not have\ntold why.\n\nIn the night, heavy rain came, and the air grew rapidly very cold.\nMirran woke up, grumbled a little at the weather, rolled himself in his\n'possum rug and crept into the most sheltered corner he could find by\nthe rock, not liking to disturb Warreen by going into the willum.  It\nwas too cold to sleep, so he soon uncovered the ashes of their camp\nfire, and put sticks on it; and there he crouched, shivering, and\nwishing Warreen would wake up and invite him to sleep in the shelter.\n\nBut the rain came more and more heavily and a keen wind arose; and a\nsudden squall put out Mirran's fire.  Soon, little channels of water\nwere finding their way in every direction over the hard ground, so that\nMirran became very wet and half-frozen.  Then he noticed a red glow\ninside the willum.\n\n\"That is good,\" he said, joyfully, \"Warreen is awake, and has made\nhimself a fire.  Now he will ask me to go and lie down in his hut.\"\n\nHe crouched close by the rock for a long time, thinking each moment\nthat Warreen would ask him in.  But no sound came, and after a while he\ncame to the conclusion that Warreen could not know he was awake.  So he\ngot up and went over to the door of the willum and looked in.  The\nlittle fire was burning redly, and all looked very cosy and inviting to\npoor, frozen Mirran.  Warreen lay near the fire, and looked at him\nsuspiciously.\n\n\"Ky! what a night!\" said Mirran, his teeth chattering.  \"You were right\nabout the weather, Warreen, and I was wrong.  I have been very sorry\nfor the last hour that my camp is not built.  May I come in and sit in\nthat corner?\"\n\nThere was not much vacant space in Warreen's little willum, but it was\nquite big enough for two at a pinch.  In the corner to which Mirran\npointed there was nothing.  But Warreen looked at him suspiciously, and\ngrunted under his breath.\n\n\"I want that corner for my head,\" he said, at last.  And he turned over\nand laid his head there.\n\nMirran looked rather surprised.\n\n\"Never mind; this place will do,\" he said, pointing to another corner.\n\n\"I want that place for my feet,\" Warreen said.  And he moved over and\nlaid his feet there.\n\nStill Mirran could not understand that his friend meant to be so\nchurlish.\n\n\"Well, this place will suit me famously,\" he said, pointing to where\nWarreen's feet had been.\n\nBut that did not please Warreen either.\n\n\"You can't have that place--I may want it later on,\" he said, with a\nsnarl.  And he turned and lay down between the fire and Mirran, and\nshut his eyes.\n\nThen Mirran realized that Warreen did not mean him to have any warmth\nor shelter, and he lost his temper.  He rushed outside into the wet\ndarkness, and stumbled over a big stone.  That was not a lucky stumble\nfor Warreen, for all that Mirran wanted at the moment was a weapon.\n\nHe picked up the stone and ran back into the willum.  Warreen lay by\nthe fire and he flung the stone at him as hard as he could.  It hit\nWarreen on the forehead, and immediately his forehead went quite flat.\n\n\"That's something for you to remember me by!\" said Mirran angrily.\n\"You can keep your dark little hole of a willum and live in it always,\njust as you can keep your flat forehead.  I have done with you!\"\n\nHe turned and ran out of the hut, for he was afraid that if he stayed\nhe would kill Warreen.  Behind him, Warreen staggered to his feet and\ncaught hold of his spear, which leaned against the wall near the\ndoorway.  He did not make any reply, but he drove the spear into the\ndarkness after Mirran, and it hit him in the back and hung there.\nMirran fell down without a word.  The light from the fire shone on him\nas he lay there in the rain, with the spear behind him.\n\nWarreen laughed a little, holding by his door-post.\n\n\"I shall have a flat forehead, shall I?\" he said.  \"Well, you will have\nmore than that.  Where that spear sticks, there shall it stick always,\nand it will be a tail for you.  You will never run or jump without it\nagain--and never shall you have a willum.\"  Then he had no more\nstrength left, so he crept back and lay beside his fire, while Mirran\nlay in the pouring rain.\n\nNo one saw Warreen and Mirran again as men.  But from that time two new\nanimals came into the Bush, and the Magpie and the Minah, those two\ninquisitive birds who know everything, soon found out their story and\ntold it to all the black people.  So everybody knows that Warreen, the\nWombat, and Mirran, the Kangaroo, were once men and lived together.\nThey do not live together now, nor do they like each other.  The Wombat\nis fat and surly and lazy, and he lives in a dark, ill-smelling hole in\nthe ground.  His forehead is flat, and he does not go far from his\nhole; and he is no more fond of working for his living than he was when\nhe lived in a willum as a man.  The Kangaroo lives in the free open\nplaces, and races through the Bush as swiftly as Mirran used to race\nlong ago.  But always behind him he carries Moo-ee-boo, as the blacks\ncall his tail, and it has grown so that he has to use it in running and\njumping, and now he could not get on without it.  He is just as quick\nand gentle as ever, but when he is angry he can fight with his\nforepaws, just as a man fights with his hands.\n\nOther animals of the Bush have holes and hiding-places, but the\nKangaroo has none.  He does not look for shelter, but sleeps in the\nopen air.  It is difficult to see him, for when he is eating young\nleaves and grass his skin looks just the same colour as the trees, and\nyou are sometimes quite close to him before his bright eyes are seen\nwatching you eagerly.  Then he turns and hops away, faster than a horse\ncan gallop, in great bounds that carry him yards at every stride, with\nMoo-ee-boo, his long tail, thumping the ground behind him.  He has\nlearned to use it--to balance on it and make it help him in those\nimmense leaps that no animal in the Bush can equal.  So Warreen did not\ndo him so bad a turn as he hoped when he threw his spear at him that\nrainy night long ago.\n\n\n\n\nX\n\nTHE DAUGHTERS OF WONKAWALA\n\nThe Chief Wonkawala was a powerful man, who ruled over a big tribe.\nThey were a fierce and warlike people, always ready to go out against\nother tribes; and by fighting they had gained a great quantity of\nproperty, and roamed unmolested through a wide tract of country--which\nmeant that all the tribe was well-fed.\n\nWonkawala had not always been a chief.  He had been an ordinary\nwarrior, but he was fiercer and stronger than most men, and he had\ngradually worked his way up to power and leadership.  There were many\njealous of him, who would have been glad to see his downfall; but\nWonkawala was wary, as well as brave, and once he had gained his\nposition, he kept it, and made himself stronger and stronger.  He had\nseveral wives, and in his wurleys were fine furs and splendid weapons\nand abundance of grass mats.  Every one feared him, and he had all that\nthe heart of a black chief could desire, except for one thing.  He had\nno son.\n\nFive daughters had Wonkawala, tall and beautiful girls, skilled in all\nwomen's work, and full of high courage, as befits the daughters of a\nchief.  Yillin was the eldest, and she was also the bravest and wisest,\nso that her sisters all looked up to her and obeyed her.  Many young\nwarriors had wished to marry her, but she had refused them all.  \"Time\nenough,\" she said to her father.  \"At present it is enough for me to be\nthe daughter of Wonkawala.\"\n\nHer father was rather inclined to agree with her.  He knew that her\nposition as the eldest daughter of the chief--without brothers--was a\nfine thing, and that once she married she would live in a wurley much\nlike any other woman's and do much the same hard work, and have much\nthe same hard time.  The life of the black women was not a very\npleasant one--it was no wonder that they so soon became withered and\nbent and hideous.  Hard work, the care of many babies, little food, and\nmany blows: these were the portion of most women, and might well be\nthat even of the daughter of a chief, when once she left her father's\nwurley for that of a young warrior.  So Wonkawala, who was unlike many\nblacks in being very fond of his daughters, did not urge that Yillin\nshould get married, and the suitors had to go disconsolately away.\n\nBut there came a time when Wonkawala fell ill, and for many weeks he\nlay in his wurley, shivering under his fur rugs, and becoming weaker\nand weaker.  The medicine-men tried all kinds of treatment for him, but\nnothing seemed to do him any good.  They painted him in strange\ndesigns, and cut him with shell knives to make him bleed: and when he\ncomplained of pain in the back they turned him on his face and stood on\nhis back.  So Wonkawala complained no more; but the back was no better.\n\nAfter the sorcerers had tried these and many other methods of healing,\nthey declared that some one had bewitched Wonkawala.  This was a\nfavourite device of puzzled sorcerers.  They had made the tribes\nbelieve that if a man's enemy got possession of anything that had\nbelonged to him--even such things as the bones of an animal he had\neaten, broken weapons, scraps of furs he had worn, or, in fact,\nanything he had touched--it could be employed as a charm against him,\nespecially to produce illness.  This made the blacks careful to burn up\nall rubbish before leaving a camping-place; and they were very keen in\nfinding odd scraps of property that had belonged to an unfriendly\ntribe.  Anything of this kind that they found was given to the chief,\nto be carefully kept as a means of injuring the enemy.  A fragment of\nthis description was called a wuulon, and was thought to have great\npower as a charm for evil.  Should one of the tribe wish to be revenged\nupon an enemy, he borrowed his wuulon from the chief, rubbed it with a\nmixture of red clay and emu fat, and tied it to the end of a\nspear-thrower, which he stuck upright in the ground before the\ncamp-fire.  Then all the blacks sat round, watching it, but at some\ndistance away, so that their shadows should not fall upon it, and\nsolemnly chanted imprecations until the spear-thrower fell to the\nground.  They believed that it would fall in the direction of the enemy\nto whom the wuulon belonged, and immediately they all threw hot ashes\nin the same direction, with hissing and curses, and prayers that\nill-fortune and disease might fall upon the owner.\n\nThe sorcerers tried this practice with every wuulon in Wonkawala's\npossession; but whatever effect might have been produced on the owners\nof the wuulons, Wonkawala himself was not helped at all.  He grew\nweaker and weaker, and it became plain that he must die.\n\nThe knowledge that they were to lose their chief threw all the blacks\ninto mourning and weeping, so that the noise of their cries was heard\nin the wurley where Wonkawala lay.  But besides those who mourned,\nthere were others who plotted, even though they seemed to be crying as\nloudly as the rest.  For, since Wonkawala had no son, some other man\nmust be chosen to succeed him as chief, and there were at least half a\ndozen who thought they had every right to the position.  So they all\ngathered their followings together, collecting as many supporters as\neach could muster, and there seemed every chance of a very pretty fight\nas soon as Wonkawala should breathe his last.\n\nThe dying chief was well aware of what was going on.  He knew that they\nmust fight it out between themselves, and that the strongest would win;\nbut what he was most concerned about was the safety of his daughters.\nTheir fate would probably be anything but pleasant.  Once left without\nhim, they would be no longer the leading girls of the tribe, and much\npetty spite and jealousy would probably be visited upon them by the\nother women.  Or they might be made tools in the fight for the\nsuccession to his position, and mixed up in the feuds and disputes\nwhich would ensue: indeed, it might easily happen that they would be\nkilled before the fighting settled down.  In any case it seemed to\nWonkawala that hardship and danger were ahead of them.\n\nHe called them to him one evening, and made them kneel down, so close\nthat they could hear him when he spoke in a whisper.\n\n\"Listen,\" he said.  \"I am dying.  No, do not begin wailing now--there\nwill be time enough for that afterwards.  My day is done, and it has\nbeen a good day: I have been a strong man and my name will be\nremembered as a chief.  What can a man want more?  But you are women,\nand my heart is uneasy about you.\"\n\n\"Nothing will matter to us, if you die!\" said Yillin.\n\n\"You may think so now,\" said the chief, looking at her with affection\nin his fierce eyes.  \"But my death may well be the least of the bad\nthings that may happen to you.  You will be as slaves where you have\nbeen as princesses.  Even if I am in the sky with Pund-jel, Maker of\nMen, I shall be unhappy to see that.  Therefore, it seems to me that\nyou must leave the tribe.\"\n\n\"Leave the tribe!\" breathed Yillin, who always spoke for her sisters.\n\"But where should we go?\"\n\n\"I have dreamed that you shall go to the east,\" said her father.  \"What\nis to happen to you I do not know, but you must go.  You may fall into\nthe power of another tribe, but I believe they would be kinder to you\nthan your own would be, for there will be much fighting here after I\nhave gone to Pund-jel.  I think any other tribe would take you in with\nthe honour that is due to a chief's daughters.  In any case, it is\nbetter to be slaves among strangers than in the place where you have\nbeen rulers.\"\n\n\"I would rather die than be a slave here!\" said Yillin proudly.\n\n\"Spoken like a son!\" said the old chief, nodding approval.  \"Get\nweapons and food ready secretly, all that you can carry: and when the\nmen are away burying me, make your escape.  They will be so busy in\nquarrelling that they will not notice soon that you have gone; and then\nthey will be afraid to go after you, lest any should get the upper hand\nduring their absence.  Go to the east, and Pund-jel will decide your\nfate.  Now I am weary, and I wish to sleep.\"\n\nSo Yillin and her sisters obeyed, and during the next few days they hid\nweapons in a secret place outside the camp, and crammed their\ndilly-bags with food, fire-sticks, charms, and all the things they\ncould carry.  Already they could see that there was wisdom in their\nfather's advice.  There was much talk that ceased suddenly when they\ncame near, and the women used to whisper together, looking at them, and\nbursting into rude laughter.  Yillin and her sisters held their heads\nhigh, but there was fierce anger in their hearts, for but a week back\nno one would have dared to show them any disrespect.\n\nAt last, one evening, Wonkawala died, and the whole tribe mourned for\nhim.  For days there was weeping and wailing, and all the time the\nchief's daughters remained within their wurley, seeing no one but the\nwomen who brought them food.  As the time went on, the manner of these\nwomen became more and more curt, and the food they brought less\nexcellent, until, on the last day of mourning, Yillin and her sisters\nwere given worse meals than they had ever eaten before.\n\n\"Our father spoke truth,\" said Yillin.  \"It is time we fled.\"\n\n\"Time, indeed,\" said Peeka, the youngest sister.  \"Did you see\nTar-nar's sneering face as she threw this evil food in to us?\"\n\n\"I would that Wonkawala, our father, could have come to life again to\nsee it,\" said Yillin with an angry sob.  \"He would have withered her\nwith his fury.  But our day, like his, is done--in our own tribe.\nNever mind--we shall find luck elsewhere.\"\n\nAfter noon of that day the men of the tribe bore the body of Wonkawala\naway, to bury it with honour.  The women stayed behind, wailing loudly\nas long as the men were in sight; but as soon as the trees hid them\nfrom view they ceased to cry out, and began to laugh and eat and enjoy\nthemselves.  They fell silent, presently, as the five daughters of\nWonkawala came out of their wurley and walked slowly across the camp.\nThey were muffled in their 'possum-rugs, scarcely showing their faces.\n\nFor a moment there was silence, and then one of the women said\nsomething to another at which both burst into a cackle of laughter.\nThen another called to the five sisters, in a familiar and insolent\nmanner.\n\n\"Where do you go, girls?\"\n\n\"We go to mourn for our father in a quiet place,\" answered Yillin\nhaughtily.\n\n\"Oh--then the camp is not good enough for you to mourn in?\" cried the\nwoman with a sneer \"But do not be away too long--there will be plenty\nof work to do, for you, now.  Remember, you are no longer our\nmistresses.\"\n\n\"No--it is your turn to serve us, now,\" cried another.  \"Bring me back\nsome yams when you come--then perhaps there will not be so many\nbeatings for you!\"  There was a yell of laughter from all the women,\namidst which Yillin and her sisters marched out of the camp, with\ndisdainful glances.\n\nWhen they drew near their hiding-place they kept careful watch, in case\nanyone had followed them.  As a matter of fact, all the women were by\nthat time busily engaged in ransacking their wurley, and dividing among\nthem the possessions the sisters had not been able to carry away; so\nthat they were quite safe.  They collected their weapons and hurried\noff into the forest.\n\nThey had obeyed their father and gone east, and the burial-place was\nwest of the camp, so they met nobody, and their flight was not\ndiscovered that night.  The men came back to the camp in the evening,\nhungry and full of eagerness about the fight for the leadership of the\ntribe, and the women were kept busy in looking after them.  The first\nfight took place that very evening, and though it was not a very big\none, it left no time for anyone to wonder what had become of the five\nsisters.  Not until next day did the tribe realize that they had run\naway; and then, as Wonkawala had foreseen, no one wanted to run after\nthem.  Certain young warriors who had thought of marrying them were\nannoyed, but they could only promise themselves to pursue and capture\nthem when the tribe should again have settled down under new leadership.\n\nThe five sisters were very sad when they started on their journey, for\nthe Bush is a wide and lonely place for women, and there seemed nothing\nahead of them but difficulty and danger.  They wept as they hurried\nthrough the forest, nor did they dare to sleep for a long time.  Only\nwhen they were so weary that they could scarcely drag themselves along,\ndid they fling themselves down in a grassy hollow, where tall ferns\nmade a screen from any prying eyes, and a stream of water gave them\nrefreshment.  They slept soundly, and dreamed gentle dreams; and when\nthey awoke in the morning it seemed that a great weight had been lifted\nfrom their hearts.\n\n\"I feel so happy, sisters,\" said Yillin, sitting up and rubbing her\neyes.  \"Our father came to me in my sleep, and told me to be of good\ncourage and to smile instead of weeping.\"\n\n\"He came to me, also,\" said Peeka, \"and told me there was good luck\nahead.\"\n\n\"After all,\" said another of the girls, \"what have we to fret about?\nIt is a fine thing to go out and see the world.  I am certain that we\nare going to enjoy ourselves.\"\n\n\"It will be interesting, at any rate,\" said Yillin.  \"But we must hurry\nonward, for we are not yet safe from pursuit--though I do not think it\nwill come.\"\n\nThey made as much haste as possible for the next few days, until it\nseemed certain that no one was tracking them down; and with each dawn\nthey felt happier and more free from care.  They were lucky in finding\ngame, so that they were well-fed; and on the fifth day they came upon\ntrees loaded with mulga apples, which gave them a great feast.  They\nroasted many of the apples and carried them with them in their\nfood-bowls.  Sometimes they came to little creeks, fringed with\nmaidenhair fern, where they bathed; sometimes they passed over great,\nrolling plains, where they could see for miles, and where kangaroos\nwere feeding in little mobs, dotted here and there on the\nkangaroo-grass they loved.  Flocks of white cockatoos, sulphur-crested,\nflew screaming overhead, and sometimes they saw the beautiful pink and\ngrey galahs, wheeling aloft, the sunlight gleaming on their grey backs\nand rose-pink crests.  Then they went across a little range of\nthickly-wooded hills, where the trees were covered with flocks of\nmany-coloured parrots, and the purple-crowned lorikeets flew,\nscreeching--sometimes alighting, like a flock of great butterflies, on\na gum-tree, to hang head downwards among the leaves, licking the sweet\neucalyptus honey from the flowers with their brush-like tongues.\n\nSometimes, when they had lain very quietly through a hot noon-tide\nhour, they saw the lyre bird, the shyest bird of all the Bush, dancing\non the great mound--twenty or thirty feet high--which it builds for its\ndome-shaped nest; mocking, as it danced, the cries of half the birds in\nthe country, and waving its beautiful lyre-shaped tail.  The magpie\nwoke them in the dawn with its rich gurgling notes; the beautiful\nblue-wren hopped near them, proud of his exquisite plumage of black and\nbright blue, chirping his happy little song.  They passed swamps, where\ncranes and herons fished, stalking in the shallows, or flew lazily away\nwith dangling legs; and sometimes they heard the booming of the\nbittern, which made them very much afraid.  At evening they would hear\na harsh, clanging cry, and, looking up, they would see a long line of\nblack swans, flying into the sunset.  There were other birds too, more\nthan any white boy or girl will ever know about: for these were the old\ndays of Australia, long before the white men had come to settle the\ncountry and destroy the Bush with their axes.  But there were no\nrabbits, and no thistles, for Australia was free from them until the\nwhite men came.\n\nGradually the daughters of Wonkawala lost all fear.  They were\nperfectly happy, and the Bush no longer seemed lonely to them; they had\nenough to eat, they were warm at night, and so strong and active, and\nso skilled in the use of weapons, had their woodland life made them,\nthat they did not seem to mind whether they met enemies or not.  They\noften danced as they went on their way, and made all the echoes of the\nforest ring with their songs.\n\nAt last, one day, they found their way barred by a wide river which\nflowed from north to south.  They could, of course, all swim; but it\nwas not easy to see how to get their furs across.  They were talking\nabout it, wondering whether they could make a canoe or a raft, when\nthey heard a friendly hail, and, looking across, they saw five girls\nstanding on the opposite bank.\n\n\"Who are you?\" shouted the strangers.\n\n\"We are the daughters of Wonkawala,\" they cried.  \"Who are you?\"\n\n\"We are girls of the Wapiya tribe, out looking for adventures.\"\n\n\"Why, so are we, and we have found many.\"  They shouted questions and\nanswers backwards and forwards, until they began to feel acquainted.\n\"What do you eat?\"  \"What furs have you?\"  \"What songs do you sing?\"\nThat led to singing, and they sang all their favourite songs to each\nother, beating two boomerangs together as an accompaniment.  When they\nhad finished they felt a great desire to travel together.\n\n\"It is really a great pity that the river flows between us,\" cried the\ndaughters of Wonkawala.  \"How can we join you?\"\n\nThe Wapiya girls laughed.\n\n\"That is quite easy,\" they answered.  \"This is a magic river, and when\nonce your feet have touched it you will be Magic too.  Dance straight\nacross!\"\n\n\"You are making fun of us,\" cried Yillin.\n\n\"No, indeed, we are not.  We cannot cross to you, for on your side\nthere is no Magic.  But if you will trust us, and dance across, you\nwill find that you will not sink.\"\n\nThis was hard to believe, and the sisters looked at each other\ndoubtfully.  Then Yillin took off her rug and handed it to Peeka.\n\n\"It will be easy enough to try, and at the worst I can only get a\nwetting,\" she said.  \"Follow me if I do not sink.\"\n\nShe went down to the water and danced out upon its surface.  It did not\nyield beneath her; the surface seemed to swing and heave as though it\nwere elastic, but it supported her and she danced across with long,\nsliding steps.  Behind her came her sisters; and so delightful was it\nto dance on the swinging river-top that they burst into singing, and so\ncame, with music and laughter, to the other side.  The Wapiya girls met\nthem with open arms.\n\n\"Ky!  You are brave enough to join us!\" they cried.  \"Now we can all go\nin quest of adventure together, and who knows what wonderful things may\nbefall us!\"\n\nSo they told each other all their histories, and they held a feast; and\nafter they had all eaten, they danced off to the east together, for\nthey were all so happy that their feet refused to walk sedately.\nPresently they came to an open space where were many tiny hillocks.\n\n\"This is Paridi-Kadi, the place of ants,\" said the Wapiya girls.  \"Here\nwe have often come before, to gather ants' eggs.\"\n\n\"Dearly do we love ants' eggs,\" said little Peeka, licking her lips.\n\n\"And these are very good eggs,\" said the eldest of the Wapiya girls,\nwhose name was Nullor.  \"But the ants defend them well, and those who\ntake them must make up their minds to be bitten.\"\n\n\"Ants' eggs are worth a few bites.\"\n\n\"Certainly they are.  Now let us see if you are really as brave as you\nsay.\"\n\nThey attacked the hillocks with their digging-sticks, and unearthed\ngreat stores of plump eggs, which they eagerly gathered.  But they also\nunearthed numbers of huge ants of a glossy dark green colour, and these\ndefended their eggs bravely, springing at the girls and biting them\nwhenever they could.\n\n\"Ky!\" said Yillin, shaking one off her arm.  \"It is as well that these\neggs are so very good, for the bites are certainly very bad.  We have\nno ants like these in our country.\"\n\n\"Have you had enough?\" asked Nullor, laughing.\n\n\"Enough bites, yes; but not enough eggs,\" said Yillin, laughing as\nwell.  \"The eggs are worth the pain.\"  She thrust her digging-stick\ninto a hillock so energetically that she scattered earth and eggs and\nants in all directions, and one ant landed on Nullor's nose and bit it\nseverely--whereat Nullor uttered a startled yell of pain, and the\ndaughters of Wonkawala laughed very much.\n\n\"Who is brave now?\" cried little Peeka.\n\nNullor rubbed her nose with a lump of wet earth, which, as she was\nblack, did not have such a curious effect as it would have had on you.\n\n\"I was taken by surprise,\" she said, somewhat shamefacedly.  \"And\nindeed, my nose is not used to such treatment, for I do not usually\npoke it into ants' nests!\"\n\nThey ate all the eggs, and rubbed their bites with chewed leaves, which\nsoon took away the stings; and then they danced away together.  After a\ntime, Yillin saw an eagle flying low, carrying something in its talons.\nShe flung a boomerang at it, and so well did she aim that she broke its\nneck, and the great bird came fluttering down.  It fell into a pool of\nwater and Yillin jumped in to rescue its prey, for she could see that\nit was alive.  It turned out to be a half-grown dingo, a fine young\ndog, which was too bewildered, between flying and drowning, to make any\nobjection to being captured.  Yillin secured it with a string which she\nplaited of her own hair and as much of Peeka's as Peeka was willing to\npart with, and fed it with bits of wallaby; and the dog soon became\nfriendly and licked her hand.\n\n\"He is a lovely dog,\" she said, \"and I will always keep him.  I will\ncall him Dulderana.\"\n\n\"I think he will be rather a nuisance,\" said Nullor.  \"Anyway, he will\nsoon leave you and go back into the Bush.\"\n\n\"I do not think he will,\" Yillin said.\n\n\"Well, you cannot teach him to dance or sing,\" said Nullor, laughing,\n\"so he will have to run behind us.\"\n\n\"Of course he will; and he will be very useful in hunting,\" said\nYillin.  \"We should not have lost that 'possum yesterday if we had had\na dog.\"\n\nDulderana very soon made himself at home, and became great friends with\nall the girls.  It amused him very much when they danced, and though he\ncould not dance himself, he used to caper wildly round them, uttering\nshort, sharp barks of delight.  But their singing he did not like at\nall, and when they began, he used to sit down with his nose pointing\nskywards, and howl most dismally, until the girls could not sing for\nlaughing.  Then they would pelt bits of stick at him until he was\nsorry.  By degrees he learned to endure the singing in silence, but he\nnever pretended to enjoy it.\n\nOne day, as they went along, they saw in the far distance a silvery\ngleam.\n\n\"What is that?\" asked Yillin.\n\n\"It looks like the duntyi, or silver bush,\" said the Wapiya girls,\ndoubtfully.\n\n\"That does not grow in our country,\" said Yillin.  \"Let us go and look\nat it.\"\n\nBut when they drew near, they saw that it was not a bush at all.\nInstead, it was a man, a very old man.  He had no hair on his head, but\nhis great silver beard hung straggling to his knees, and when the\nbreeze blew it about it was so large that it was no wonder they had\nmistaken it for a bush.  No word did he speak, but he sat and looked at\nthem in silence, and when they greeted him respectfully he only nodded.\nSomething about him made them feel afraid.  They clustered together,\nlooking at him.  At last he spoke.\n\n\"I have come too soon,\" he said.  \"You are not ready for me yet.  Go\non.\"\n\nAt that Dulderana howled very dismally indeed, and rushed away with his\ntail between his legs.  The girls quite understood how he felt, and\nthey also ran away, never stopping until they were far from the strange\nold man.\n\n\"Now, who was that?\" Yillin said.\n\nNullor looked uneasy.\n\n\"I do not know,\" she said.  \"This is a strange country, and there is\nmuch Magic in it.  We will hurry on, or he may perhaps come after us.\"\n\nSo they hastened on into the forest, forgetting, for a while, to dance;\nbut then their fear left them, and again their songs rang through the\nBush.  They passed a clump of black wattle, the trunks of which were\ncovered with gum, in great shining masses, so that they had a splendid\nfeast; for the gum was both food and drink, and what they could not eat\nthey mixed with water and drank, enjoying its sweet flavour.  With\ntheir bags filled with gum they went on, and one evening they camped\namong a grove of banksia trees, near a pool of quiet water.  It was not\nvery good water to drink, but the Wapiya girls showed the five sisters\nhow to suck it up through banksia cones, which strained out any\nimpurities and gave it a very pleasant taste.  They were tired, and lay\ndown early.\n\nIn the night a great wind sprang up, and with it came a curious booming\nnoise.  It woke the daughters of Wonkawala, and they sat up in alarm.\n\n\"Ky! that must be a huge bittern,\" said Peeka.\n\n\"It is not like a bittern,\" Yillin said.  \"I have never heard any sound\nlike it.  Perhaps it is the Bunyip, of whom our mother used to tell us\nwhen we were little--a terrible beast who lives in swamps, and whose\nvoice fills every one with terror.\"\n\nThe Wapiya girls woke up, and they also listened.  Then they laughed\namong themselves, but they did not let the sisters see that they were\nlaughing.  They seemed to think little of the noise.\n\n\"It is only the wind howling,\" they said.  \"Lie down and sleep, you\nfive inlanders!\"\n\n\"What do you mean by that?\" demanded Yillin.  But the Wapiya girls only\ngiggled again, and lay down, declaring that no Bunyip was going to\nspoil their sleep.  And as they were so cheerful, the sisters came to\nthe conclusion that they might as well do the same.\n\nWhen they awoke it was day, and the booming was still going on, and the\nwind felt fresh and wet.  The Wapiya girls were already up, and they\ngreeted them with laughter.\n\n\"We have a surprise for you,\" said they.  \"Shut your eyes, and let us\nlead you.\"\n\nThe sisters did so, and felt themselves led forward.  Presently the\nearth became soft and yielding under their feet, and they cried out in\nalarm, but the others laughed again, and said, \"Never mind, you are\nquite safe.\"\n\nIn a moment more they said, \"Now, open your eyes!\"  The sisters did so,\nand lo! they stood before a great sheet of water with high, tumbling\nwaves.  Blue and sparkling was the water, and the big waves came\nrolling in, gathering themselves up slowly with their tops a mass of\nfoam, which slowly rose and curled over until it plunged down, crashing\nin a smother of breaking bubbles.  The daughters of Wonkawala had never\nseen anything like it before, and they gasped in amazement.\n\n\"Ky! what a river!\" they cried.  \"Where is the other side?\"\n\nThe Wapiya girls shouted with laughter.\n\n\"The other side!\" they gasped, when they could speak.  \"Why, there is\nno other side.  This is the Sea, and it is the end of all things.  Have\nyou never heard of it?\"\n\n\"Is _that_ the Sea?\"  The five sisters stared.  \"We have heard stories\nof it from the old men and women, but we never imagined that it was\nlike this.  No one could imagine it without seeing it.  Have you known\nit before?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes.  We have often camped here with our tribe.  Come nearer.\"\n\nThey took the sisters down to the edge of the water, and presently a\ngreat wave rolled in, broke in a thunderous roar, and came dashing up\nthe sand.  The sisters stared at it in amazed admiration at first, and\nthen, as it came nearer, Fear fell upon them, and they screamed and\nturned to fly.  They ran as fast as they could in the yielding sand,\nbut the wave came faster and the water caught them, at first round\ntheir ankles and then swiftly mounting to their knees.  Then it went\nback, and the sisters thought that they were slipping back with it, and\nscreamed louder than ever.  The Wapiya girls, themselves weak with\nlaughter, caught hold of them.\n\n\"The Sea!\" screamed the sisters.  \"The Sea is carrying us away!\"\n\nThe others led them up on higher sand and laughed at them until they\nbegan to laugh at themselves.\n\n\"Never before have I seen water that runs backwards and forwards, as\nthough a great giant were shaking it in a bowl,\" said Yillin.  \"We are\nsorry to have been afraid, but it is all very peculiar and unexpected.\nAre you sure it is not Magic?\"\n\n\"I do not think anyone can be sure of that about the Sea,\" said Nullor.\n\"It is strange water, and indeed I often think that it is very great\nMagic indeed.  But if it is, it is a good Magic, and we are not afraid\nof it.\"\n\n\"And this queer yellow earth, that slips away under the feet--is that\nMagic too?\"\n\n\"Oh--the sand.  Perhaps it is--who knows.  But it will not hurt you.\nCome on, let us bathe in the Sea, for that is one of the most beautiful\nthings in the world.\"\n\nThe daughters of Wonkawala hung back at first, for they were very\ndoubtful of trusting themselves to the magic water.  But the others\nlaughed and persuaded them, and they ventured in, paddling at first,\nuntil they became used to the rushing breakers.  But soon they gained\nconfidence, and before long not even the Wapiya were bolder than they,\nand they would dive into a breaker and be carried in on its curling\ntop, laughing and playing like so many mermaids: so that the Wapiya\ngirls soon lost any feeling of superiority, and only regained it once,\nwhen Peeka, feeling thirsty, scooped up some of a passing wave in her\ncupped hands and took a deep draught.  For the next two minutes Peeka\nwas coughing and spluttering and spitting, while the other girls yelled\nwith laughter.\n\n\"That is certainly very bad Magic,\" said Peeka angrily, when she could\nspeak.  \"What has made the water turn bad?\"\n\nThat set the Wapiya girls off into fresh peals of mirth, and it was\nsome time before they could explain that the water was always salt.\nPeeka was annoyed, but presently she laughed too.\n\n\"Oh, well, if that is the worst of its Magic, there is not much to\ngrumble at,\" she said.  \"Come on, girls, let us dive into this next\none!\"  And the next moment Peeka's merry black face was half hidden in\nthe flying spray as the breaker bore her ashore.\n\nThey stayed by the Sea for some days, for the inland girls were too\nfascinated to leave it, and when they were not bathing in it, they were\nwandering along the shore, wildly excited over finding shells and\nseaweed and all the other treasures of the sands.  Then one day a great\nblack cloud came up, obscuring all the sky, and instead of being\nsparkling blue and silver, the water turned to a dull grey and looked\ndead and oily.  The other girls were afraid of it, and would not go\ninto the cold, dark breakers: but Yillin, who loved bathing more than\nany of them, would not be persuaded, and plunged in for a swim.  She\ndid not stay long, for the water felt more and more uncomfortable each\nmoment; so she let a big, sullen breaker carry her in, and, wading out,\nran up the beach to the other girls.\n\nThey started back when they saw her, looking at her with amazement and\nfear.\n\n\"What have you done to yourself?\" cried Nullor.\n\n\"I?  Nothing.  What are you looking at?\"\n\nNullor pointed a shaking forefinger at her body, and looking down,\nYillin uttered a bewildered cry.  No longer was she smooth-skinned and\nblack.  Her body and legs were thickly covered with shining scales, so\nthat she gleamed like silver.\n\n[Illustration: \"Her body and legs were thickly covered with shining\nscales, so that she gleamed like silver.\"]\n\n\"It is the water!\" she stammered.  \"It must be!\"\n\n\"Does it feel pleasant?\" inquired Nullor.  \"It looks quite beautiful.\"\n\n\"I do not feel anything at all,\" Yillin answered.  \"But it certainly\ndoes look well.\"  She gazed at her shining self with interest, and\nturned round so that the others might see if her back were similarly\nornamented.  It was, and the other girls grew a little jealous.\n\n\"Jump in, and see if the Magic will come upon you, too,\" cried Yillin.\n\nThey did not lose a moment.  Flinging their fur aprons from them, they\nrushed down the beach and plunged into the dark waves.  And lo! when\nthey emerged, they too were covered with silver scales.  They stood\ntogether on the sand, a shining company.\n\n\"Let us walk along the shore, and see what else will befall us,\" said\nYillin.\n\nThey gathered up their property and set off eastwards again.  The shore\ncurved out after a time, forming a rocky cape.  They rounded this, and\nfound themselves on the coast of a little bay, round which they\nhurried, anxious to explore some great rocks at the farther point.  But\nwhen they reached them, they found their way barred.  The rocks were a\nsolid wall: a great black cliff that rose sheer from the water, running\nfar out beyond even the farthest line of the breakers.  Nowhere was\nthere any way of advancing: the bay was ringed with the dark, smooth\ncliffs.  The little dog Dulderana whimpered as if in fear.\n\n\"Let us go back!\" said the Wapiya girls.  \"This is not a good place.\"\n\nFor a moment the daughters of Wonkawala were inclined to agree.  Then\nthere came to them suddenly the vision of their father, who had said,\n\"Go to the east,\" and they knew they must obey.\n\n\"We are not afraid,\" they said.  \"Go you back, if you wish.\"\n\n\"We do not wish to leave you,\" the Wapiya said sadly.\n\n\"Nor do we wish to lose you, for we have loved you very much,\" said the\nsisters.  \"But we must go forward.  Will you not come?\"\n\nThe Wapiya girls shook their heads.\n\n\"No,\" they said.  \"Something tells us that we must return, and never\nsee you more.  But we will always watch for you, and perhaps some day\nwe may hear you coming, singing our old songs, and we will run to meet\nyou.\"\n\nThey embraced each other, weeping, and slowly the Wapiya girls went\nback until the rocky promontory hid them from sight.  Then Yillin\ndashed her tears away.\n\n\"Come, my sisters!\" she cried.\n\nThey took hands and danced together towards the wall of rock that\nloomed before them, black, unbroken, forbidding.  Yillin was at the\nend, and as she reached the rock she raised her Wona, or digging-stick,\nand struck the rock.  It split open, and they danced through the cleft.\nBefore them was no more the Sea, but a green country dotted with trees,\nand covered with thick grass.  A little way from them was a low mound,\ntowards which they danced.  As they drew near, they saw that some one\nwas sitting on it--a very old man, whose silver beard swept below his\nfeet.  He sat motionless, save that his hands were always busy, pulling\nthe long silver hairs from his beard and twisting them into a cord.\n\n\"It is the old man we met long ago!\" whispered the sisters.\n\nSomehow, the fear that they had felt when they met him with the Wapiya\ngirls was upon them no longer: and the little dog Dulderana, who had\nfled from him howling, now ran up to him gaily, frisking round him.\nThe old man put out his hand and fondled him, and Dulderana snuggled\nagainst him; then, nestling down with his head on his fore-paws, he\nlooked at Yillin as if to say, \"This is my master.\"\n\nYillin understood the look in his eyes.\n\n\"Do you like him, Master?\" she asked.  \"We bring him to you as a gift.\"\n\n\"That is a good gift,\" said the old man, looking much pleased.  \"And\nyou are welcome, my children.  I think that this time I have not met\nyou too soon.  Are you weary with all your wanderings?\"\n\n\"No, we are never weary,\" said Yillin.  \"We have danced, and hunted,\nand bathed, and sung; and we have forgotten all our sorrows.  Our\nfather, Wonkawala, bade us come east, and we obeyed him.\"\n\n\"And so you found friends and happiness,\" said the old man.  \"Sit down,\nand tell me of all that you have seen.\"\n\nThey sat down in a semi-circle before him, and, speaking one after\nanother, they told him the story of their long journey.  He heard them\nin silence, nodding now and then: and all the time his fingers moved\nceaselessly, plaiting the silver hairs into a long cord.  It lay in\ngreat shining coils at his feet.  The little dog nestled beside him,\nand sometimes, when he paused to adjust a fresh coil, his fingers\nrested for a moment on its head.\n\nHe smiled at the sisters when they had finished their story.\n\n\"It was indeed a great journey; and the Sea has clothed you in silver,\nso that you are more glorious than any chief's daughters have ever been\nbefore,\" he said.  \"And now comes the greatest adventure of all.\"\n\nHe rose, as he spoke, pointing to the sky.  The sisters looked up, and\ncried out in awe.  For as they looked, the clouds parted, and they saw\nbehind them Arawotya, who lives in the sky: a great and gentle Being\nwhose face seemed to have light behind it.  He looked down at them\nkindly, and beckoned.  Then he began to lower a long cord, made, like\nthat of the old man, of plaited hair.  It reached almost to the top of\nthe mound where they stood.\n\n\"You are to go up,\" said the old man.  \"You first, I last of all.  But\nfirst we will send up the little dog, that you may see how safe it is.\"\n\nHe took his silver cord and tied it round the body of Dulderana, then\njoining it to the magic cord from the sky.  Then Arawotya pulled it up,\nso gently that the little dog never seemed frightened, and he\ndisappeared behind a cloud.  Presently the cord came back again, and\none after another the old man tied the girls with it, and Arawotya drew\nthem up to himself.  Yillin was the last of the sisters to go, but as\nshe was being pulled up she cut her hand with her digging-stick, and\nher Pirha, or food-bowl, fell.  It was a very beautiful carved Pirha,\nand, because it had been her father's, Yillin felt very sad.  Even when\nArawotya had gently received her, and, untying the cord, placed her by\nher sisters, she peered over the edge of the cloud, trying to see where\nit had fallen.\n\nThe old man was being drawn up, and just as he reached the clouds\nYillin caught sight of her Pirha, lying on the mound.\n\n\"See!\" she whispered to Peeka.  \"My Pirha--it lies below.  I will just\nslide down the cord and get it, for it belonged to our father,\nWonkawala.  Arawotya will forgive me and pull me up again.\"\n\nShe slid hurriedly down the cord and joyfully seized the bowl.  But\nwhen she turned to climb up again she uttered a cry of despair, for the\ncord was out of her reach.  Arawotya had drawn it up.  As she looked,\nit disappeared, and then the cloud-masses swept together, blotting out\neverything above.  She was alone.\n\nAll that day and night Yillin lay on the mound, weeping, and begging\nArawotya to forgive her and take her up to her sisters.  But all the\nclouds had gone, and there was only a clear blue sky, bright with\nmoonlight and dotted with a million stars: and there was no sign of\nthose whom she had lost.  She gave herself up to despair.\n\n\"Yakai!\" she moaned.  \"Better that I had remained a slave in the camp\nof Wonkawala than have come to this lonely land to die!\"\n\nTowards morning, exhausted, she fell into a troubled sleep.  And in her\nsleep her father came to her, and his face was grave and kind.\n\n\"Alas, my daughter!\" he said.  \"You have lost your chance of happiness\nfor the sake of a worthless Pirha.  What! did you imagine that you\nwould need a Pirha in the sky?\"\n\n\"No--but because it was yours, my father,\" she sobbed in her sleep.\n\nWonkawala's face shone with a great light.\n\n\"Always you were my dear and faithful daughter,\" he said.  \"Because of\nthat, there is yet happiness for you.  Go forward, and no matter what\nshall befall you, be of good courage.\"\n\nThen the vision faded, and after that Yillin's sleep was no longer\ntroubled.  She woke refreshed in the morning, and although she was\nlonely for her sisters, there was hope in her heart.  She took her\nweapons and went forward.\n\nIt was a quiet country.  There seemed no men and women in it, nor even\nany animals; and even the birds were strange to her.  She passed over a\ngreat rocky plain, making for a green line of trees that seemed to mark\nthe windings of a creek, for she was very thirsty.  She found it, a\nclear wide stream, and drank deeply: then she wandered along its banks.\nAnd here at length there was a touch of home, for there were many\ncrimson parrots in the trees, and the noise of their harsh crying to\neach other was as music in her ears.  They had their mates, and to see\nthem made her feel less lonely.\n\nShe found some roots and berries, which she ate, hoping they were good\nfor food: and when night came, she curled into a hollow under a rock\nand slept deeply, waking refreshed, eager to go on her way.  Then for\nmany days she wandered, following the course of the creek, for she was\nafraid to go far from water.  She was a strange figure in her silvery\nscales.  Whenever she caught sight of herself, mirrored in the water as\nshe bent to drink, it gave her a new throb of amazement.\n\nShe was wandering along one day when a rustling in the bushes made her\nglance aside.  To her surprise, a dog was looking at her, and she could\nsee that it was a tame one.  Yillin had always loved dogs, and she\nwhistled to this one, trying to coax it to play with her.  But the dog\nwas suspicious, and backed away from her, growling: then it uttered a\nfew short barks and raced off into the scrub.\n\nTwo black hunters, who were ranging through the Bush a little way off,\nstopped, hearing the barking.\n\n\"My dog has started game of some kind,\" said one.  \"He does not bark\nfor nothing.\"\n\n\"Let us go and look,\" said the other.  They turned aside in the\ndirection of the sound, and presently came upon the dog, who bounded to\nhis master and licked his hand.\n\n\"What have you been barking for?\" demanded his master, patting him.\nThe dog wagged his tail vigorously and ran a few paces into the bushes.\n\n\"I believe there is something in that direction,\" the hunter said.  \"We\nmight as well go and see, Chukeroo.\"\n\nThey moved noiselessly through the scrub, and presently Chukeroo caught\nhis friend's arm.\n\n\"See, Wonga,\" he whispered.  \"There is a demon!  Let us fly!\"\n\nWonga looked, and saw a strange, glittering figure standing by a tree.\nHe was just as afraid as his friend, but he was also full of curiosity.\n\n\"It seems to be a woman-demon,\" he whispered back.  \"See! it has long\nhair, and the face is the face of a woman.\"  He pondered, watching the\nstrange apparition.  \"And it carries weapons--strange, that a demon\nshould go armed, Chukeroo.  I should like to get hold of those weapons.\nThey would be worth having in a fight.\"\n\n\"You may try, if you like, but I have no fancy for fighting demons,\"\nsaid Chukeroo.\n\n\"I do not know that I have, either,\" said Wonga.  \"Perhaps, though, a\nwoman-demon would not be so terrible to fight.  Look how she glitters\nwhen she moves!  She would be a startling wife for a man to take home\nto his wurley, Chukeroo.\"\n\n\"Every one to his fancy,\" returned his friend.  \"Personally I prefer\nmine black.\"\n\n\"You are used to yours, but I have none yet,\" said Wonga, laughing, for\nhe was a cheerful youth.  \"Come, I am going to get a nearer look at the\ndemon.  Are you afraid?\"\n\n\"Very much, but I suppose I had better come,\" said Chukeroo\ngrumblingly.  \"You are a mad-headed fellow, Wonga, and you will get\ninto trouble if you do not take care.  I only hope that this is not the\nsort of demon that the sorcerers tell us about, who can blast men to\ncinders with a wave of the hand.\"\n\nHe followed his friend, and they crept through the bushes until they\nfound a place where they could see the strange being more closely.  In\ntheir excitement they had forgotten the dog, and suddenly it gave a\nloud bark.  The shining figure turned sharply and ran towards them.\n\n\"Save yourself!\" uttered Chukeroo.  \"It has seen us!\"\n\nThey turned to run, but in crossing a clear space Chukeroo caught his\nfoot in a trail of clematis and fell headlong, scattering his weapons.\nWonga pulled himself up, and raced back to help his friend.  Before\nthey could gather all the fallen spears the strange being was upon them.\n\nYillin was as astonished as the black hunters--and as afraid.  But she\nhad learned to defend herself, and so she flung her digging-stick at\nWonga.  It grazed his leg, and made him so angry that he forgot all\nabout being afraid of this demon, and hurled his spears at her.  But\nhis fear returned when he saw them glance off her shining scales as\nthough she were covered with glass, and then fall harmlessly to the\nground.  Chukeroo joined in the fight: but though the aim of both\nhunters was true, nothing seemed to pierce those magic scales.\nMoreover, the strange being, having lost her digging-stick, picked up\nthe fallen spears and flung them at their owners so rapidly that they\nthought themselves lucky in being able to dodge behind trees with whole\nskins.\n\n\"She is indeed a demon!\" gasped Chukeroo.\n\n\"She may be, but she is very like a woman,\" said Wonga.  \"And I am not\ngoing home to tell the other warriors that a woman has stolen my\nspears, even if she does happen to be a demon.  Besides, you know as\nwell as I do that they will not believe us.  Even your own wife will\nlaugh at you, and she will not believe.\"\n\n\"That is true enough,\" said Chukeroo gloomily.  \"What are we to do?\"\n\n\"I will make you armour,\" said Wonga.  \"Then we will go back, and when\nthe demon throws the spears at you they will stick in the armour, and I\nwill rush in and secure them.\"\n\n\"I do not know that it is much of a plan, but at least I have no\nbetter,\" said Chukeroo.  \"Be quick, or the demon may come and find us\nunarmed.\"\n\nSo Wonga broke off young saplings, and lashed them round his friend\nwith strips of twisted stringy bark fibre, until nothing of him could\nbe seen, and he had great difficulty in moving.  Then, slowly and\ncautiously, they made their way back to the open space where they had\nfought.\n\nYillin was standing wearily by a tree with the spears in her hand.  She\njumped round as they came, and while she flung spear after spear at\nChukeroo, Wonga ran through the trees and came behind her.  His foot\nstruck against her own digging-stick, and he picked it up and rushed at\nher.  The point caught in her shining scales, and ripped them up as\nthough they were paper.  They fell in tatters about her.\n\n\"Do not kill me!\" she cried.  \"I am a chief's daughter!\"\n\n\"A chief's daughter, are you?\" said Wonga.  Suddenly his angry face\ngrew soft with pity.  \"Why, I thought you a demon,\" he said--\"and lo!\nyou are only a poor, frightened little girl!\"\n\n      *      *      *      *      *\n\nSo the wanderings of Yillin came to an end, and though she missed\nhappiness with Arawotya in the sky, yet, as Wonkawala had said in her\nvision, she found it elsewhere.  For Wonga took her home and married\nher, and his tribe treated her with honour because she was the daughter\nof a mighty chief; and later on, Wonga became the chief of his own\ntribe, and she helped him to rule it in wisdom.  Very often she was\nlonely for her four sisters, especially for little Peeka, whom she had\nloved best of all: but she comforted herself by thinking that they were\nhappy with Arawotya in the sky, and that some day she would find them\nagain.  Then, together, they would go at the last to Pund-jel, Maker of\nMen, and join their father Wonkawala.  There were five stars in the\nsouthern sky that she liked to watch, for she grew to believe that they\nwere her sisters, and that the tiniest of the five was her little dog\nDulderana.  They are the stars of the Southern Cross.  And it seemed to\nYillin that they looked down at her and smiled.\n\nOtherwise, Yillin was never lonely, for many children came to her and\nWonga, and her wurley always seemed full of jolly black babies and wee\nlasses and lads.  Yillin did not mind however many there were,\nespecially as she did not have to worry about clothes for them.  They\ngrew into strong, merry boys and girls, who loved dancing and songs and\nlaughter just as she had always loved them.  She used to tell them the\nstory of her wanderings, and when she came to the part about the silver\nscales that had once covered her, they would pretend to hunt for them\non her black skin, and would laugh very much because they could never\nfind any.  And Wonga would laugh too, and say, \"Ah, well, many men find\ntheir wives demons after they have married them, so I was lucky in only\nthinking that of mine beforehand--and then finding I had made a\nmistake!\"\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\nTHE BURNING OF THE CROWS\n\nNo one in the Bush ever had a good word to say for the Crows.  From the\nvery earliest times they were a noisy, mischievous race, always poking\ntheir strong beaks into what did not concern them, and never so happy\nas when they were annoying other people.  Whatever a mother Crow taught\nher chickens, civility and good manners were not included in the\nlessons; they were accomplishments for which none of the family had the\nslightest use.\n\nIt did not at all trouble the Wokala, as the Crows were called, that\nthey were unpopular.  Indeed, they rather gloried in the amount of\nill-feeling they were able to excite among the Bush folk.  They were\npowerful birds, well able to hold their own in any quarrel with birds\nof their own size, and so quick and daring that they would even steal\nfrom animals, or attack weak ones, secure in the advantage given them\nby their strong wings.  They made so many enemies, however, that they\ntook to going about in flocks, so that no one dared molest them--not\neven Wildoo, the Eagle, or Kellelek, the Cockatoo.\n\nEspecially did Wildoo hate the Wokala.  He was always proud, as the\nKing of the Birds has every right to be, and among all birds that fly\nhis word was law.  He liked to keep good order, and if any bird\ndispleased him, a few quiet words, possibly accompanied by a discreet\npeck, or a blow from one of his great wings, was more than enough to\nbring the offender to his senses.  One day he had occasion to punish\none of the Wokala, who had stolen the meal laboriously provided by the\nwife of Wook-ook, the Mopoke, for her husband, who was ill.  The\nWokala, battered and furious, flew away and told his story to the other\nCrows; who, equally furious, flew in a mob to the high crag where\nWildoo had his nest.  There was no one there, for it was too late in\nthe season to find chickens: so the Wokala amused themselves by\nscattering the nest to pieces, and when Wildoo and his wife came home\nfrom hunting they hid among the bushes and screamed all sorts of\ninsulting things at them.  Wildoo took no notice, openly.  It would\nhave been beneath his dignity to go hunting smaller birds in thick\nbushes--which the Wokala very well knew.  He merely folded his wings\nand, with his wife, perched on the edge of the rocky shelf where his\nnest had been, and stared out across the tossing green sea of gum-trees\nthat clothed the rolling hills below, his yellow eyes full of silent\nanger.  Gradually the Wokala grew tired of screaming, and, becoming\nhungry, flew away.\n\nAfter that the Wokala became more insolent than ever.  Even Wildoo was\nafraid of them, they said; and they kept together in a mob, and lost no\nchance of being rude to him.  More and more they attacked and insulted\nthe other birds, until no one felt safe if there were any chance of the\nevil Wokala coming near.  Again and again complaints came to Wildoo of\ntheir wicked doings, and Wildoo heard them in silence, nodding his\nhead, with his brain busy behind his yellow eyes.  But he said nothing:\nuntil at length the other birds began to ask themselves was it really\ntrue that Wildoo was afraid?  Wildoo was not at all afraid of a flock\nof squawking Wokala.  But he was very much afraid of being made to look\nridiculous.  He had no intention of making a false step, and he did not\nquite know what to do.  There was no one for him to talk to, for the\nEagle is a lonely bird--not like Chirnip, the Magpie-Lark, or Tautani,\nthe Cormorant, with dozens and dozens of friends.  He is a king, and\ntherefore he is lonely: and, being naturally silent, he does not talk\nmuch, even to his wife.  All by himself he had to think out the problem\nof what to do about the Wokala; and, meanwhile, the Wokala perched\nabove his nest and insulted him, and dropped bits of stick down upon\nhis rocky shelf, and screamed rude things at his wife, until she said\ncrossly to Wildoo, \"I cannot think why you do not make an end of those\nabominable little white birds.  They are a disgrace to any decent\nKingdom, and you have not the spirit of a Bandicoot!\"  This annoyed and\nhurt Wildoo, but he said nothing--only looked at her until she caught a\ngleam of fire in the depths of his yellow eyes.\n\nPerhaps you did not know that in the very early times all the Wokala\nwere white?  They were the whitest of all the birds of the Bush,\nwithout a single grey or coloured feather in all their bodies: so that\nthere was a saying in the Bush, \"As white as a Wokala.\"  They were very\nproud of it, too, and thought it quite a disgrace if one of their\nchickens showed a sign of being even creamy in colour, once he was\nnearly fledged.  They kept themselves very clean, going often to bathe;\nand when they flew about in a flock their dazzling whiteness almost\nhurt the eye, while, if they perched in a dead gum-tree, they looked\nlike big snowflakes against the grey branches.  Even Kellelek, the\nCockatoo, was dingy compared to the gleaming whiteness of the Wokala.\nSomehow, it seemed to make their bad behaviour worse, since no one\nwould expect a beautiful bird like polished marble to have the manners\nof a jungle pig.\n\nSummer ended early that year, with a great thunder-storm, followed by a\nmonth of wild wind and driving rain: and all the birds were rather\nuncomfortable because the moulting season was scarcely over.  Most of\nall, the Wokala were annoyed.  They liked their white feathers so much,\nand were so proud of their smart appearance, that they always delayed\nmoulting as long as ever they could; and now the bad weather caught\nthem in a worse state than the other birds.  When the rains ended,\nearly frosts came, and found the Wokala without any of their new\nfeather cloaks ready.  They used to huddle together among the thickest\ntrees, shivering and untidy.\n\nIn that part of the country there is a great black ironstone hill,\ntreeless and forbidding.  Few birds go there, for there is nowhere to\nperch, and but little food except the tiny rock-lizards that sun\nthemselves in the hot mornings.  Wildoo knew it well, for he often flew\nover it, and occasionally he was accustomed to stand on a shelf at the\nmouth of a cave near the top--a black hole in the hillside where no one\nbut an Eagle would willingly perch alone.  He took refuge in the cave\none morning, during a fierce hail-storm; and it was there that an idea\ncame to him.\n\nThat night as he came flying homewards, he brought in his great talons\na bundle of dry sticks, and as he flapped his way over the black\nironstone hill, he dropped down on the ledge and made a heap of his\nsticks on the floor of the cave.  The next morning he did the same: and\nso it went on for many days, until he had a big pile of smooth sticks,\nsomething like a great nest.  His wife came with him one evening, and\nwas very much amused.\n\n\"Why have you taken to playing with sticks?\" she asked, laughing.  \"I\nnever saw such a funny heap.  Is it a game?\"  But Wildoo only looked at\nher sourly, and said, \"Be quiet, woman!\" after the manner of husbands:\nand since she was more sensible than most wives, she was quiet.\n\nIt was after his heap of sticks was ready that Wildoo went to look for\nthe Wokala.  They had been far too uncomfortable lately to continue to\nbe rude to him, and, in fact, were keeping out of the way of every one;\nso that he had some difficulty in finding them, and might have given it\nup but for Corridella, the Eagle-hawk, who remembered having seen them\nnear a sheltered gully between two hills.\n\n\"They are cold,\" said Corridella, laughing, \"oh, so cold, and so sorry\nfor themselves.  There is no impudence left in them.\"\n\n\"Cold indeed must be the night that chills the impudence of the\nWokala,\" said Wildoo.\n\n\"It is going to be a very cold night,\" said Corridella.  \"Already there\nis a sharp nip of frost in the air.  I think that some of the Wokala\nwill be dead before morning, for none of them have their new feather\ncloaks nearly ready.\"  He chuckled.  \"Well, no one in the Bush will\nmourn for them.  Perhaps they will realize now that it does not pay to\nmake enemies of every one.\"\n\n\"The Wokala will never learn a lesson,\" answered Wildoo.  \"They are\nalways satisfied with themselves: and even though some may die, the\nothers will forget all about it, once they have their shining white\ncloaks and can flock into the tree-tops again.  But possibly they may\nnot be so lucky--who can tell?\"  He also chuckled, looking as wise as\nan owl.  But when Corridella asked him what he meant, he pretended to\ngo to sleep: and Corridella, who knew better than to pester an Eagle\nwith too many questions, said good evening and sailed homeward across\nthe tree-tops.\n\nLeft to himself, Wildoo waited until no bird was in sight, and then\nflapped heavily away from his rocky shelf, and dived downward to the\ngully.  It did not take him long to find the Wokala.  They did not\ngleam with the whiteness of snow, for they were moulting and very\nshabby, and a few were dressed mainly in pin-feathers; but their voices\nwere just as harsh as ever, and guided Wildoo to where they were\nhuddling among some she-oak trees.  Already a cold wind was whistling\ndown between the hills, sighing and moaning in the she-oak branches.\nThere is no tree in all Australia so mournful as the she-oak on a cold\nnight, when each long needle seems to sing a separate little song of\nwoe.  Already the miserable Wokala were sorry that they had chosen to\nroost there.\n\nSuddenly, great wings darkened the evening sky above them, and, looking\nup, they saw Wildoo.  He perched on a limb of a dead gum-tree far\noverhead, and looked down at them, laughing.  There seemed, to the\nshivering Wokala, something very terrible in the sound of his laughter.\n\n\"Kwah!\" they whispered.  \"Wildoo has found us.  Now he will be\nrevenged.\"  They knew they could not fly swiftly enough to escape him,\nand they began to creep downwards, hoping to hide among the bracken\nfern that clothed the gully.  But Wildoo called to them, and, to their\nastonishment, his voice sounded friendly.\n\n\"Oh, Wokala!\" he cried.  \"Are you very cold?\"\n\n\"Ay, we are cold,\" said the Wokala, as well as they could, for their\nbeaks were chattering with fear and shivering.\n\n\"No wonder, seeing how little you have on,\" said Wildoo.  \"A pity you\ndid not get your new white feather cloaks ready earlier, instead of\nspending your time in annoying honest folk.  Well, perhaps you will\nhave more sense next year.\"\n\n\"Doubtless we shall, if we live,\" said the oldest Wokala.  \"But it\nseems likely that not many of us will live, for we are nearly frozen\nalready.\"\n\n\"How distressing for you!\" said Wildoo--\"especially as it will be far\ncolder before morning than it is now.  These gullies are the chilliest\nplaces in the Bush on a frosty night.\"\n\nThe beaks of the Wokala chattered anew.\n\n\"We came for shelter,\" said the old Wokala miserably.  \"But you say\ntruth, Wildoo: I think the Frost-Spirit has his home down here.  Is it\nany warmer where you are?\"\n\n\"Very little,\" said Wildoo--\"and the wind is singing through these\nbranches.  But I know of a sheltered place, for all that.\"\n\n\"Kwah!\" said the Wokala, all together.  \"A sheltered place!  Oh,\nWildoo, you are great and--and--and beautiful.  Will you not tell us\nwhere it is?\"\n\n\"Great and beautiful, am I?\" said Wildoo, with a chuckle.  \"That is not\nthe sort of thing you have been calling me all these months.  However,\nit is lucky for you that I am also good-natured; I would not willingly\nsee any of my people die of cold, not even the Wokala, who deserve\nlittle of anyone.\"\n\n\"Then you will tell us where is the sheltered place?\" chattered the\nWokala.\n\n\"Fly across to the Black Mountain,\" said Wildoo.  \"There is an\nironstone wurley near the top--I will guide you to it, if you like.  It\nis big enough for you all, and there is a fine heap of sticks on which\nto perch.  The wind will not blow inside it, and the morning sun will\nshine right into it.\"\n\n\"It sounds too wonderful to be true,\" said the Wokala.  \"Is it dry,\nthis ironstone wurley?\"\n\n\"Dry as old bones,\" answered Wildoo.  \"Oh, you would be in luck to get\nthere--you would forget all your troubles.\"\n\n\"One would think that impossible,\" shivered the old Wokala--he was very\nsorry for himself.  \"But if you will really guide us there, then be\nquick, Wildoo, or none of us will be able to fly at all.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" Wildoo answered.  \"I will go slowly, as I suppose you are\nall stiff.  Follow me, and come down when you see me perch.\"\n\nHe spread his great wings and looked down at them for a moment with a\nlittle smile; and if they had not been so eager and so cold they might\nhave hesitated at the expression in his yellow eyes.  But, as usual,\nthe Wokala thought only of themselves, and as they had learned to\nbelieve that Wildoo was afraid of them, they never suspected that he\nmight be leading them into a trap.  They cried \"Kwah!  Kwah!\" and rose\ninto the air after him as soon as the flapping of the mighty wings told\nthem that he had left the gum-tree.  Even to fly slowly was difficult,\nso stiff with cold were they: but they all persevered, except one young\nhen--a pretty young thing, whose weary wings would not do their duty.\nShe made a brave attempt to rise, but before the flight had cleared the\nbig dead gum-tree she had to drop back--thankful to find a secure perch\non a jutting limb.\n\n\"Ky!\" she whimpered.  \"I can never fly all the way to the Black\nMountain.  I must die here.\"\n\nShe crept along the limb until she came to the trunk, and there luck\nawaited her.  In the fork was an old 'possum-hole which had not been\nused for many seasons.  It was dry and warm--sheltered from the bitter\nwind, and soft underfoot with rotting leaves, pleasant to the touch.\nThe young Wokala hopped in thankfully, and it seemed the last touch to\nher wonderful good fortune that she immediately met a fine fat grub.\nShe promptly ate it for her supper, tucked her head under her wing,\nnestled into the farthest corner, and went to sleep, remarking\ndrowsily, \"This is better than all Wildoo's ironstone wurleys!\"\n\nThe other Wokala did not notice that the young hen had dropped back--or\nif they did they did not worry about her.  Weary as they were, it took\nall their strength to keep Wildoo in sight, even though he kept his\nword and flew slowly.  They were thankful when at length he sank lower\nand came to rest on a big boulder by the mouth of the cave near the\nmountain-top.  The Wokala followed him in a straggling line, and\nperched on the shelf outside the cave.\n\n\"There you are,\" Wildoo said, nodding towards the yawning hole in the\nhillside.  \"That is your ironstone wurley, and I will promise you that\nyou will find it dry and free from draughts.\"\n\n\"There is nothing living there?\" asked the old Wokala, looking a little\ndoubtfully at the cave.\n\n\"Nothing at all.  All you will find there is a heap of dry sticks; you\ncan perch there and keep each other warm.  Stay there, if you like it\nwell enough, until your new feather cloaks are ready--you are really\nscarcely fit for decent society now.\"  Wildoo cast a half-contemptuous\nglance at the shivering, half-fledged birds, as they clustered on the\nrocky shelf.  Then he flew off again into the gathering darkness.\n\n\"Whatever is Wildoo about?\" asked Kellelek, the Cockatoo, of his hens.\n\"He seems to be leading all the Wokala round the sky.  A funny nurse he\nlooked, and with a funny lot of chickens!\"\n\n\"No wonder he waited for dusk before he would be seen with them,\" said\none of his wives contemptuously.  \"I flew by their tree to-day, and\nreally, they were a positive disgrace.  And they always think\nthemselves so smart!\"\n\n\"Oh, they'll be smart enough again,\" said Kellelek, laughing.  \"Wait\nuntil they have their new feathers on, and you will be just as jealous\nof them as ever you were.  There is no doubt that the Wokala are\nsmart--that is, for people who prefer plain white.  I like a good\nsulphur crest myself--but then, it's all a matter of opinion.\"\n\n\"Well, don't let the Wokala know that you admire them, or they will be\nworse than ever,\" said his wives, ruffling their feathers angrily.\n\nMeanwhile, the Wokala had hesitated just for a moment before entering\nthe cave.  Then a fresh blast of cold wind swept across the face of the\nmountain, and they waited no longer, but fluttered in before it, in a\nhurrying, jostling flock.  It was just as Wildoo had told them: warm\nand dry, and with a big heap of dry sticks in the middle--just the\nthing for them to perch on.  They hopped up eagerly, huddling together\nfor warmth, scrambling and fighting for the best places.  Soon they\nwere all comfortably settled, and at last warmth began to steal back\ninto their shivering bodies.\n\n\"A good thing we made Wildoo afraid of us,\" said one sleepily.\n\"Otherwise we should never have known of this splendid wurley.\"  The\nothers uttered drowsy murmurs of \"Kwah!\" as they drifted into slumber.\n\nBut far away on his mountain shelf Wildoo sat and waited, his yellow\neyes wide and wakeful.  The dusk deepened into night, and far off, from\nhis perch on a tall stringy bark tree, old Wook-ook, the Mopoke, sent\nout his long cry, \"Mo--poke!  Mo--poke!\"  Presently came a dim radiance\nin the east and Wildoo stirred a little.\n\n\"Peera comes,\" he muttered.\n\nPeera, the Moon, came up slowly, until all the Bush was flooded with\nher dim light, falling into shadow now and then, when dark clouds\ndrifted across her face.  Wildoo waited until she was above the\ntree-tops, with her beams falling upon the ironstone mountain.  Then he\ntook a fire-stick in his talons and flew swiftly away, never pausing\nuntil he alighted on the shelf before the cave.\n\nHe laid the fire-stick down and went softly to the dark opening,\nlistening.  There came only the sound of the breathing of the Wokala,\nwith now and then a muffled caw as one dreamed, perhaps, of cold and\nhunger.  As his eyes grew accustomed to the light, Wildoo could see\nthem--a huddled white mass upon the heap of sticks.  That was all he\nwanted, and he went back swiftly for his fire-stick, and with it went\ninto the cave.  Very softly he slipped it into the dry heart of the\nheap of sticks below the sleeping Wokala.  He waited until little\nsmoke-wreaths began to curl up, and a faint glow came from within the\nheap.\n\n\"Now you will be warm enough, my friends!\" he muttered.  He hurried out\nof the cave, and flew slowly to the nearest tree, on the hill opposite\nthe Black Mountain.  There he perched and waited.  Very soon all the\ndark mouth of the cave was filled with glowing radiance, and clouds of\nsmoke came billowing out and rolled down the hill.  Then came loud and\nterrified cawing, and Wildoo thought he could see dark forms fluttering\nout through the smoke.  His yellow eyes gleamed at the sight.  And then\nclouds came suddenly across the face of the Moon, and a fierce wind\nblew, with driving rain that beat into the mouth of the cave.  It\nblotted out the glow, and the wind carried away the cries.  When all\nwas quiet Wildoo flapped off to his nest.\n\nHe was back next morning on the boulder outside the cave, and with him\nall the birds of the Bush, whom he had collected as he came, saying to\nthem, \"Come and see what happens to those who insult Wildoo.\"  The\nblack mouth of the ironstone cave looked grim and forbidding, and,\npeering in, the birds could see the charred ends of the dry sticks,\nscattered on the floor round a heap of ashes.  Then, from the inner\nrecesses of the cave came a strange procession, and at the sight the\nKooka burra burst into a peal of laughter.  For it was the Wokala.\n\nThey came slowly--but where were their white feathers, of which they\nhad been so proud?  All were gone, singed off close to their bodies;\nand their bodies were blackened with smoke.  Queer, naked birds they\nlooked, creeping out into the sunshine, and there was no pride left in\nthem.  They looked up and saw Wildoo and the laughing birds of all the\nBush; and with a loud miserable cawing they fled back into the cave.\n\nNo one saw the Wokala again for a time.  But after a long while they\ncame out again, this time with all their feathers fully grown.  No\nlonger, however, were they white--the whitest of all birds.  Their new\nfeathers were a glossy black!\n\nThey looked at each other for a moment with a kind of horror.  Then\nthey rose into the air with a swift beating of their jet-black wings,\nand, calling \"Kwah!  Kwah!\" they fled across the sky.  And as they flew\nanother cawing was heard, and a white bird rose and flew to meet\nthem--the Wokala hen who had been left behind, and who had taken refuge\nin the 'possum-hole.  She was now the only white Wokala left in all the\nworld.  They met in mid-air, and at sight of the strange black birds\nwith the familiar voices the white Wokala uttered a scream and fled\naway, never to be seen again.\n\nSince then, always the Crows have been black.  They found their old\nimpudence again after a while, and became what they had been when they\nwere white--always the nuisances of the Bush, vagabonds and robbers and\nbullies.  But still the terror of the ironstone wurley is upon them,\nand they never venture into caves, but live in the big trees, where\nthey can see far and wide, and where no creeping enemy can come upon\nthem in the darkness.  And Wildoo, the King of the Birds, never finds\nthem near his nest, nor need he ever speak to them.  One glance from\nhim is enough for the Wokala: they would fly to the deepest recesses of\nthe Bush rather than face the gleam of his yellow eyes.\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\nKUR-BO-ROO, THE BEAR\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nKur-bo-roo was a little black boy baby.  His father and mother had no\nother children, and so they were very proud of him, and he always had\nenough to eat.  It is often very different when there are many hungry\npickaninnies to be fed--especially in dry seasons, when roots and yams\nand berries are hard to find, and a black mother's task of filling her\ndilly-bag becomes more difficult every day.  Then it may happen that\nthe children are quite often hungry, and their ribs show plainly\nthrough their black skins: and they learn to pick up all kinds of odd\nfood that white children would consider horrible--insects, grubs, and\nmoths, and queer fungi, which may sometimes give them bad\npains--although it is not an easy thing to give a black child\nindigestion.\n\nBut Kur-bo-roo had not known any hard times.  He was born a cheerful,\nround baby, quite light in colour at first; and as he darkened he\nbecame rounder and jollier.  His hair curled in tight little rings all\nover his head, and his nose was beautifully flat--so flat that his\nmother did not need to press it down to make him good-looking, as most\nof the black mothers do to their babies.  He was very strong, too, with\na straight little back and well-muscled limbs; and when his teeth came\nthey could crunch up bones quite easily, or even the hard nardoo\nberries.  His mother thought he was the most beautiful pickaninny that\nwas ever born, which is an idea all mothers have about their babies.\nBut Kur-bo-roo's mother _knew_ that she was right.\n\nHe had so many good things to eat that he grew fatter and fatter.  His\nfather brought home game--wallaby, wombat, iguana, lace-lizards,\nporcupines, bandicoots, opossums; and though it was polite to give away\na good deal to his wife's father, there was always plenty for little\nKur-bo-roo.  Then delicious bits of snake came his way, and long white\ntree-grubs, as well as all the native fruits and berries that the black\nwomen find; and he had plenty of creek water to drink.  So long as you\ngive a wild blackfellow good water he will always manage to forage for\nfood.\n\nKur-bo-roo did not have to forage.  It interested his father and mother\ntremendously to do all that they could for him, and watch him grow.  As\nsoon as he could toddle about, his father made him tiny throwing-sticks\nand a boomerang, and tried to teach him to throw them; and his mother,\nsquatting in the shade of the wurley, would laugh to see the baby thing\nstruggling with the weapons of a man.  And, while she laughed, she was\nprouder than ever.  She used to rub his limbs to make them supple and\nstrong.  He did not wear any clothes at all, so that she was never\nworried about keeping his wardrobe in order.  Instead, she was able to\ngive all her time to making him into what she thought to be the best\npossible kind of boy.  And, however that may have been, it is quite\ncertain that there never was a happier pickaninny.\n\nIt was when Kur-bo-roo was nearly six years old that the evil spirit of\nTrouble came to him.\n\nSickness fell upon the tribe.  No one knew how it came, and the\nmedicine-men could not drive it away.  First of all, the people had\nterrible headaches, and the Meki-gar, or doctor, used to treat them in\nthe usual manner--he would dig out a round sod of earth and, making the\npatient lie down with his head in the hole, would put the sod on his\nhead, and stand on it, or sit on it, to squeeze out the pain.  If this\nwere not successful, he would tie a cord tightly round the patient's\nhead, and cut him with a sharp shell or flint, beating his head with a\nlittle stick to make the blood flow freely.  These excellent measures\nhad in the past cured many severe headaches.  But they could not cure\nthe sickness now.\n\nSo the Meki-gar had the patient carried out of the camp.  The bearers\ncarried him slowly, singing a mournful chant; and behind them came all\nthe sick man's friends, sweeping the ground with boughs, to sweep away\nthe bad power that had caused the disease.  This bad power was, the\nMeki-gar said, the work of a terrible being called Bori.  But, whether\nit was Bori's fault, or whether the tribe had simply brought sickness\non themselves by allowing the camp to become very dirty, the Meki-gar\ncould not drive away the sickness.  It grew worse and worse, and people\ndied every day.\n\nKur-bo-roo was only a little lad, but he was unhappy and frightened,\nalthough he did not understand at all.  The air was always full of the\nsound of the groaning and crying of those people who were ill, and of\nlamenting and mourning for the dead.  Everybody was terribly afraid.\nThe blacks believed that their bad spirits were angry with them, and\nthat nothing could do them any good; and so, many died from sheer\nfright, thinking that once they were taken ill they were doomed, and\nthat it was no good to make a fight against the mysterious enemy.  That\nwas stupid, but they did not know any better.\n\nThen there came a heavy rain, and after it was over, and the sun had\ncome out to smile upon a fresh, clean world, the sickness began to get\nbetter and pass away.  But just at the last, it came to the wurley\nwhere Kur-bo-roo lived with his father and mother.\n\nKur-bo-roo could not understand why his parents could not get up and go\nto find food.  They lay in the wurley together, shivering under all the\n'possum rugs and talking quickly in queer, high voices that he could\nnot make out at all.  They called often for water, and he brought it to\nthem in his little tarnuk, or drinking-vessel, going backwards and\nforwards to the creek, and up and down its banks, until his little legs\nwere very tired.  Long after he was tired he kept on going for water.\nThen there came a time when they could not lift the tarnuk, and he\ntried to hold it to their lips, so that they could drink; but he was\nnot very successful, and much of the water was spilt.  You see, he was\nonly a very little, afraid boy.\n\nHe woke up one morning, cold and hungry.  There was no more food in the\nwurley, and no voices: only a great silence.  He crept under the\n'possum rug to his father and mother, but they were quite still, and\nwhen he called to them, they did not answer.  He rubbed their cold\nfaces with a shaking little hand, but no warmth came to them.  Then he\nbroke into loud, frightened crying, like any other lonely little boy.\n\nPresently some of the blacks came to the wurley and pointed at the\nquiet bodies under the 'possum rug, and jabbered very hard, beckoning\nto others to come.  Kur-bo-roo heard them say \"tumble-down\" a great\nmany times, and he knew that it meant \"dead\"; but he did not know that\nhis father and mother would never speak to him any more.  Only when an\nold woman picked him up and carried him away he understood that a\nterrible thing had happened to him, and he cried more bitterly than\never, calling to his mother.  She had always run to him when he called.\nBut now she did not come.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nAfter that, hard times came upon little Kur-bo-roo.  There were none of\nhis own family left, for the sickness had taken them all.  His father\nand mother had been the last to die, and that made the blacks think\nthat very probably Bori, the Evil Spirit, had been especially angry\nwith Kur-bo-roo's family, because so many of them had died and the last\nterrible blow of the disease had fallen on their wurley.  Indeed, for\nawhile they argued as to whether it would not be better to kill\nKur-bo-roo too, so that so troublesome a family should be quite stamped\nout, with no further chance of annoying Bori and bringing trouble upon\nthe tribe.  They did not spare him out of any idea of pity; but because\nso many men and boys had died that the tribe had become seriously\nweakened, and it seemed foolish to kill a strong and healthy fellow\nlike Kur-bo-roo.  It was very important for a tribe to keep up its\nfighting strength, for there was always a chance that another band of\nblacks might come upon them and want to fight: in which case the weaker\ntribe might be swallowed up.  So boy babies were thought a good deal\nof, and for that reason the blacks did not make an end of little\nKur-bo-roo.\n\nBut he had a very bad time, for all that.  No one wanted him.  He was\nnobody's boy; and that hurts just the same whether a boy be black or\nwhite.  Never was there so lonely a little fellow.  The other children\nwere half afraid of him, because the fear of Bori's anger yet hung\nabout him; they would not let him join in their games, and took a\nsavage delight in hunting him away from their wurleys.  Another black\nfamily had taken possession of his father's wurley, and no home was\nleft to him.  He used to wander about miserably, often sleeping in the\nopen air, curled up in the shadow of a bush, or in a hollow tree-stump.\nIf it were cold or wet, he would creep noiselessly into a hut when he\nthought every one would be asleep--and quite often he was kicked out\nagain.\n\nHe was always hungry now.  His father and mother had taken such care of\nhim, and had loved so much to keep him fed, that he had never learned\nhow to find food for himself.  He would wander about in the Bush,\nlooking for such things as his mother had brought him, but he knew so\nlittle that often he ate quite the wrong things, which made him very\nsick.  He learned a good deal about food in that way, but the learning\nwas not pleasant work.\n\nIt was a bad year for food.  Dry weather had come, and game was scarce;\nit was hard for the fighting-men to bring home enough for their own\nchildren, without having to provide for a hungry boy of six who\nbelonged to nobody.  Kur-bo-roo used to hang about the cooking-places\nin the hope of having scraps of food thrown to him, but not many came\nhis way.  When so many were hungry the food was quickly eaten up.\nSometimes a woman, pitying the shrinking little lad, would hastily toss\nhim a bone or a fragment of meat; and though you would not have cared\nfor the way it was cooked, Kur-bo-roo thought that these morsels were\nthe most delicious he had ever tasted.\n\nYou see, a wild blackfellow has not much to think about except food.\nHe has no schools, no daily papers, no market days, or picture shows,\nor telephones.  The wild Bush is his, and all he asks or expects of it\nis that it shall supply him with food.  He knows that it means strength\nto him, and that strength means happiness, as a rule, when all that he\nhas depends upon his own ability to keep it for himself.  He does not\nreason things that way, for the blackfellow is simple, but he just eats\nas much as he can whenever he can get it, and that seems to agree with\nhim excellently.  That was the principle on which Kur-bo-roo had been\nbrought up, and it had made him the round, black, shiny baby that he\nhad been until his parents died.\n\nHe was not nearly so round and shiny now.  His little body was thin and\nhard, and he did not look so strong as before.  It was not altogether\nlack of food that had weakened him--the want of happiness had a great\ndeal to do with it.\n\nHe had found out that the tribe did not like him.  Not only was he\nnobody's boy, but he was the object of a kind of distrust that he could\nfeel without at all understanding it; and he had learnt to shrink and\ncringe from blows and bitter words.  Once he had found a lace-lizard\nasleep on a rock, and, grasping his tiny waddy, had stolen up to it\nvery carefully, all the instinct of the hunter blazing in his dark, sad\neyes.  The lizard, when it woke, was quick, but Kur-bo-roo was\nquicker--the stick came down with all the force of his arm, and he\ncarried off his prey in triumph, meaning to ask a woman who had\nsometimes been kind to him if she would cook it for him.  But just\noutside the camp three big boys had come upon him as he was carrying\nhis prey, and that had been the last that Kur-bo-roo had seen of his\nlizard.  He had fought for it like a little tiger--quite hopelessly, of\ncourse, but to fight had been a kind of dismal satisfaction to him,\neven though he was badly beaten in addition to losing his dinner; and\nthat was specially unfortunate, for blacks think lizard a very great\ndelicacy indeed.  The boys ran off with it, jeering at the sobbing\nlittle figure on the ground; and they called him names that, even in\nhis angry soreness, made him think.  They said something to do with an\nevil spirit--he pondered over it, creeping into a clump of bushes.  Why\nshould they call him that?\n\nBlacks always want a reason for any happening.  Sometimes they are\nsatisfied with very foolish reasons; but they must have something to\nexplain occurrences, especially if they are unpleasant ones.  The\nsickness that had fallen on their tribe they put down to Bori, as the\nmedicine-man told them; but when the sickness had gone, it seemed only\nreasonable to believe that Bori was satisfied and would leave them\nalone for awhile.  So they could not understand why misfortune should\nstill pursue them.  Another tribe had stolen part of their country, and\nthey had been too weakened by the sickness to fight for it; and now had\ncome the drought, making food harder than ever to obtain, and causing\nsome of the babies to fall sick and die.  They turned to the magic-men\nor sorcerers for explanation, and these clever people performed a great\nmany extraordinary tricks to make things better.  Then, as they were\nreally hard up for some object on which to throw the blame of their\nfailure, it occurred to them to turn suspicion towards little\nKur-bo-roo.\n\nKur-bo-roo went on with his unhappy little life, quite ignorant of the\nstorms gathering round his woolly head.  No one was ever kind to him,\nand he could scarcely distinguish one day from another; although he\ngathered a vague idea that in some way they were linking his name with\nthe Evil Spirit, he did not understand what that meant.  He kept on\nhunting round for food and water, and dodging blows and angry faces.\nIf he had guessed that the magic-men were busily persuading the people\nthat his family and he were the cause of the terrible year through\nwhich they had passed, he might have been more uneasy; but, in any\ncase, he was only a very little boy, and perhaps he would not have\nunderstood.  He had enough troubles to think of without looking out for\nmore.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nThen the worst part of the drought happened, for the creek began to run\ndry.\n\nDay after day it ran a little more slowly, and the deep holes at the\nbends shrank and dwindled away.  The fish disappeared completely,\nhaving swum down-stream to where deeper waters awaited them; and so\nanother source of food was lost to the tribe.  There only remained the\nblack mud-eels, and soon it was hard to find any of these, try as they\nmight.  That was bad, but it was nothing in comparison to the loss of\nthe water supply.  Without the creek, the tribe could not exist, for\nthe only other drinking-places in their country were swamps and\nmorasses, and these, too, were dried up and useless.  So the magic-men\nand head-men became very anxious, and many were the black glances cast\nupon the unconscious Kur-bo-roo as he slunk round the camp or hunted\nfor food in the scrub.  Then the head-men issued a command that no one\nshould drink from the creek itself, lest the little water remaining\nshould be stirred up and made muddy, or lest anyone should drink too\nmuch.  Instead of going to the creek to drink, they were permitted to\nfill their tarnuks, or drinking-vessels, each morning; and then no one\nwas allowed to approach the creek again that day.  So in the mornings a\nlong procession of women went down to the bank, where a head-man\nwatched them fill the tarnuks, remaining until the last had hurried\naway, very much afraid of his fierce eyes.\n\nBut the new law fell very heavily on Kur-bo-roo, for he had now no\ntarnuk.  The little one made for him by his father long ago had\ndisappeared when he lost everything, and since then he had always been\naccustomed to drink at the creek.  Now, however, he could not do so,\nand no one would give him a tarnuk, or let him drink from theirs.  He\nwould have stolen it very readily, for he was now not at all a\nwell-brought-up little boy, but the tarnuks were hung far beyond his\nreach.\n\nOf course, the magic-men knew how the new law would affect the little\nfellow.  They knew that now it would be impossible for Kur-bo-roo to\ndrink, and after a little he would \"tumble-down\" and be dead; and then,\nperhaps, the Evil Spirit would be satisfied, and go away from the\ntribe.  They watched him carefully, and were glad that he became weak\nand wretched.  They had uttered such savage penalties against drinking\nfrom the creek that it never occurred to them that he would dare to\ndisobey.  But sometimes in the darkness Kur-bo-roo used to creep down\nfor a drink, being, indeed, as desperate as a boy can be, and quite\nsure that unless he went he must die; and he had become so stealthy in\nhis movements that he was never caught.  It did not satisfy his thirst,\nof course, for it was the hottest part of the summer, and all the\nblacks were accustomed to drinking a great deal: still, it was\nsomething.  At least, it kept him alive.\n\nThen, one morning, came news of a number of kangaroo feeding two miles\naway by the creek, and all the camp fell into a state of tremendous\nexcitement at the very idea of such a chance of food.  All the men and\nbig boys dashed off at once, and presently the women made up their\nminds that they would follow them, as it was not at all unlikely that\nif the men had good luck in their hunt they might immediately sit down\nand eat a great portion of the game they had killed--in which case\nthere was only a poor look-out for those left in camp.  So they\ngathered up their dilly-bags and sticks, slung the babies on their\nbacks, and ran off into the Bush after the men, leaving the camp\ndeserted.\n\nNow, it chanced that Kur-bo-roo knew nothing of all this.  He had not\nspent the night in camp, because, on the evening before, he had been\nsavagely beaten by two big boys, who had caught him alone in the scrub,\nand when they had finished with him he was too sick and sore to crawl\nback to the wurleys.  He had crept under a bush, and slept there\nuneasily, for the pain of his bruises kept waking him up.  The sun was\nquite high in the sky before he made up his mind to go back to the\ncamp, in the faint hope that some one would give him food.  So he\nlimped slowly through the Bush, wincing when the harsh boughs rubbed\nagainst his sore limbs.\n\nHe stopped at the edge of the camp and rubbed his fists into his eyes,\nblinking in surprise.  No one was in sight; instead of the hum and\nbustle of the camp, the men sitting about carving their spears and\nthrowing-sticks, the women chattering round the wurleys, the babies\nrolling on the ground and playing with the dogs, there was only\ndesolation and silence.  He approached one hut after another, and poked\nin a timid head, but he saw no one, and the stillness seemed almost\nterrible to him.  Then, in a corner of one wurley he saw a rush-basket,\nand from it came a smell that would have been disgusting to anyone but\na black, but was pure delight to Kur-bo-roo.  His fear vanished as he\nseized upon the food and ate it ravenously.\n\nHe came out presently, his thin little body not nearly so hollow as\nbefore, and looked about him.  The food had made him feel better, but\nhe was terribly thirsty.  And then he saw, with a little glad shout,\nthat all about the camp were drinking-vessels, brimming with water--put\ndown wherever their owners had happened to be when they had rushed away\nto the hunt.  Kur-bo-roo did not know anything about that, of course;\nhe only knew that here was water enough to make him forget that he had\never been thirsty.  He ran eagerly to the nearest tarnuk and drank and\ndrank until he could drink no more.\n\nAnd with that drink, so the blacks say, a great change came upon little\nKur-bo-roo.\n\nKur-bo-roo put down the tarnuk and stood upright, throwing his head\nback in sheer bodily happiness at once more having had enough to eat\nand drink.  All his bruises and soreness had suddenly gone; he was no\nlonger tired and lonely and unhappy, but strong and well and glad.  How\nwonderfully strong he felt!  A new feeling ran through all his body.\n\n\"I am stronger than anybody ever was before!\" he said aloud.  And he\nbelieved that it was true.\n\nHe glanced round the deserted camp.  It was quiet now, but he felt sure\nthat soon the blacks would come hurrying back.  Perhaps they would be\nthere in a moment: Kur-bo-roo listened, half dreading to hear the quick\npad-pad of bare feet over the hard, baked ground.  No sound came.  But\nhe knew that they would return: and then, what would await him?\n\nHis new strength seemed to burn him.  He stretched his arms out,\nwondering at their hard muscles, although he felt that the drink had\nbeen Magic, and so he need not wonder at anything at all.  Some good\nSpirit, perhaps sorry for lonely little boys, had evidently come to\nhelp him.  Fear suddenly left him altogether, and with its going came a\nmighty desire for revenge.  He did not know what he was going to do,\nbut the new power that was in him urged him on.\n\nA little tree grew in front of him.  He began to gather up all the\ndrinking-vessels, and, one by one, to hang them upon the boughs.  There\nwere very many, and it took a long time, but at last the task was\ncompleted, and not a tarnuk was left in the camp.  He looked in the\nwurleys, and found many empty vessels, and these also he hung up in the\ntree.  Then he took the biggest tarnuk of all, and a little tarnuk, and\nwent down to the creek: and with the little tarnuk he filled the big\none, dipping up all the water from the creek, until there was none\nleft.  There was much water, yet still the big tarnuk held it all, and\nonly the mud of the creek-bed remained where the stream had been\nrippling past.  Even as he looked, that grew dry and hard.  Then\nKur-bo-roo turned and carried his burden up the bank to his tree, and\nfrom the big tarnuk he filled all the empty ones.  They held a great\ndeal, and yet the big tarnuk remained quite full.  For now there was\nMagic in everything that Kur-bo-roo touched.\n\nHe climbed up into the little tree and seated himself comfortably in a\nfork, where he could see everything, and yet lean back comfortably.  A\nquiver ran through the tree, as if something far underground had shaken\nit; and suddenly it began to grow.  It grew and grew, spreading wide\narms to the sky, until it was as large as very many big trees all put\ntogether: and its trunk was tall and straight and very smooth.  All the\ntime, Kur-bo-roo sat in the fork and smiled.\n\nWhen the tree had finished growing, he heard a sound of voices far\nbelow him, and, looking down, he saw the tribe hurrying back through\nthe scrub to their camp.  Their hunt had been unsuccessful, for all the\nkangaroo had got away into the country of another tribe, where they\ndared not follow: so they were returning, hungry and thirsty, and in a\nvery bad temper, for they had not found any water in the places where\nthey had been.  They came angrily back to the camp, and from his seat\nin the fork of the great tree Kur-bo-roo looked down at them and smiled.\n\nThe blacks were far too thirsty to look up at any tree.  They hurried\nto the wurleys.  Then the first said, \"Where is my tarnuk?\" and another\nsaid, \"Wah! my tarnuk has gone!\" and a third, \"Who has taken all our\ntarnuks?\"  They became very angry, and beat their wives because they\ncould find no drinking-vessels and no water: then, becoming desperate\nbecause of their thirst, they hurried to the creek.  And lo! the creek\nwas dry!  They came back from the creek, jabbering and afraid,\nbelieving that the Evil Spirits had done this wonderful thing.\nPresently one saw the big tree, and cried out in astonishment.\n\n\"Ky!  What tree is that?\" he exclaimed.\n\nThey gathered round, staring in amazement at the huge tree: and so they\nsaw all their tarnuks hanging in its branches, and little Kur-bo-roo\nsitting smiling in the fork.\n\n\"Wah! is that you?\" they called.  \"Have you any water?\"\n\n\"Yes, here am I, and I have plenty of water,\" said Kur-bo-roo.  \"But I\nwill not give you one drop, because you would give me none, although I\ndied of thirst.\"\n\nSome threatened him, and some begged of him, and the women and children\nwailed round the base of the tree.  But Kur-bo-roo smiled down at them,\nand took no heed of all their anger and their crying.  Then a couple of\nyoung men took their tomahawks of stone and began to climb the tree,\nalthough they were afraid, because it was so big.  Still, thirst drove\nthem, and so they came up the tree, cutting notches for their fingers\nand toes in the smooth trunk, and coming wonderfully quickly.  But\nKur-bo-roo laughed, and let fall a little water on them from a tarnuk;\nand as soon as the water touched them, they fell to the ground and were\nkilled.\n\nAgain and again other men tried to climb the tree, becoming desperate\nwith their own thirst and the crying of the women and children; but\nalways they met the same fate.  Always Kur-bo-roo smiled, and splashed\na few drops of water upon them: only a drop on each of them, but as the\ndrops touched them their hold loosened, the grip of their toes relaxed,\nand they fell from the great height, to meet their death on the ground\nbelow.  So it went on until nearly all the men of the tribe were gone:\nand Kur-bo-roo sat in the fork of the tree and smiled.\n\nAnd it still went on, all through the moonlit night.  But in the dawn\ntwo men came back from hunting: Ta-jerr and Tarrn-nin, the sons of\nPund-jel, Maker of Men.  They were very cunning, as well as being very\nbrave, and after they had taken counsel together, they began to climb\nthe tree.  But they did not climb as the other men had done, straight\nup the long line of the smooth trunk.  Instead, they climbed round and\nround, as the clematis creeps when it throws its tendrils about a\nbranch.\n\nKur-bo-rop laughed, just as he had laughed at the others, and waited\nuntil they had ascended to a great height.  Then he took water, and let\nit fall--but the men were no longer in the same place, but on the other\nside, climbing round and round, and he missed them.  Again and again he\nran to get more, and poured it down; they were very quick, circling\nabout the trunk, and always managed to escape the falling drops.  They\ncame to the place where the trunk forked, and swung themselves into the\nhigh boughs.\n\nThen little Kur-bo-roo began to cry in a terrified voice.  But they\nseized him, not heeding, and beat him until all his bones were broken,\nand then threw him down.  The other blacks uttered a great shout of\ntriumph, and ran to kill him.\n\nBut the Magic that had helped him came to the aid of little Kur-bo-roo\nonce more, and so he did not die.  Suddenly, just as the angry blacks\nwere upon him, with uplifted waddies and threatening faces, he changed\nunder their gaze; and where there had been a little black boy there lay\nfor a moment a Native Bear, his grey fur bristling, and fear filling\nhis soft eyes.  Then, very swiftly, he gathered himself up and ran up a\ntree, until he was out of sight among the branches.\n\nJust then the blacks were too thirsty to pursue him.  Overhead, Ta-jerr\nand Tarrn-nin were cutting at the branches of the great tree that held\nthe tarnuks; and all the water came out and flowed back to the creek,\nand again the creek became wide and clear, running swiftly in its bed\nso that there was drink for all.  Then Ta-jerr and Tarrn-nin came down\nto the ground, and the tribe hailed them as heroes.  But when they\nlooked for little Kur-bo-roo, the Native Bear, he had fled into another\ntree, and had disappeared.\n\nFrom that time, the Native Bears became food for the black people.  But\nit is law that they must not break their bones when they kill them, nor\nmust they take off their skin before they cook them.  So they take them\ncarefully, hitting them on the head; and they cook them by roasting\nthem whole in an oven of stones, sunk in the ground.  If the law were\nbroken, Kur-bo-roo would again become powerful, the magic-men say; and\nthe first thing he would do would be to dry up all the creeks.\n\nNow, Kur-bo-roo lives near the creeks and water holes, so that if the\npeople broke the law he might at once carry away the water.  He is not\nvery wise, because he was only quite a little boy before he became a\nNative Bear, and so had not much time to gain wisdom: but he is soft,\nand fat, and gentle, unless you interfere with him when he wants to\nclimb a tree, and then he can scratch very hard with his sharp claws.\nAll he can do is to climb, and he does not see very well in the\ndaytime: therefore, he thinks that whatever he meets is a tree, and at\nonce he tries to climb it.  If the blacks throw things at him when he\nis sitting in the fork of a tree, he blinks down at them, and sometimes\nyou might think he smiles.  But if they climb his tree and come near to\nknock him down, he cries always, very terribly--just as he cried long\nago, when he was Magic and Ta-jerr and Tarrn-nin climbed his great tree\nand threw him to the people far below.\n\n\n\n\nXIII\n\nWURIP, THE FIRE-BRINGER\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nOnce there was a time when the blacks had no fire.  They had not\nlearned the way to make it by rubbing two sticks together; or if they\nhad once known the way, they had forgotten it.  And they were very\nmiserable, for it was often cold and wintry, and they had no fire to\nwarm them, nor any way of cooking food.\n\nFire had been theirs once.  But there came two women upon the Earth;\nstrange women, speaking in unknown tongues, with great eyes in which\nthere was no fear.  They did not love the blacks.  They lived in their\ncamps for a time, and built for themselves a wurley, coming and going\nas they pleased; but always there was hatred in their wild eyes, and\nthe blacks feared them exceedingly.  Because they feared them, although\nthey hated them, they gave them food, and the women cooked it for\nthemselves, for at that time the fire blossomed at the door of every\nhut.\n\nBut one day, the blacks awoke to find the women gone.  They had gone in\nthe night, silently, and with them they took all the fire that the\nblacks had.  There was not even a coal left to start the hearth-blaze\nfor the shivering people.\n\nThe fighting-men made haste to arm themselves, and started in pursuit\nof the women.  They travelled through swamps and morasses, across boggy\nlands and creeks fringed with reeds and sedges; all the time seeing\nnothing of the women, but knowing that they were on the right track, by\nthe faint smell of fire that still hung in the air.  \"They have gone\nthis way, carrying Fire!\" they said.  \"Soon we shall overtake them.\"\nAnd they pressed on, going faster and faster as the smell of burning\nwood became stronger and stronger.\n\nAt last they came out upon a little open space, and, looking across it,\nthey saw a new wurley made of bushes interlaced with reeds.  In front\nof it smoke curled up lazily, and they caught the gleam of red coals,\nand yellow flame.  The two women sat by the fire, motionless.  The\nfighting-men broke into a run, shouting: \"Now we will make an end of\nthese women!\" they cried fiercely to each other, as they ran, gripping\ntheir spears and throwing-sticks.\n\nThe women sat by the fire taking no heed.  So little did they seem to\nnotice the running warriors that it seemed that they did not see them;\nor, if they did see them, they cared no more than for a line of black\nswans flying westward into the sunset.  One stirred the fire gently,\nand laid across the red embers a dried stick of she-oak.  The other\nweaved a mat of rushes in a curious device of green and white; and as\nshe twisted them in and out, she smiled.  Even when the long shout of\nthe fighting-men sent its echoes rolling round the sky, they did not\nlook up.  The glow of the flames shone reflected deep in their eyes.\n\nSo the fighting-men came on, grim and relentless, burning with the\nanger of all their long chase and the hot desire for revenge.  They\ntightened their grip on their waddies, since there was nothing to be\ngained by risking a throwing-stick or a spear when the enemy to be\nslain was only two women, weak and unarmed.  For such defenceless\ncreatures, a blow with a waddy would be sufficient.  But, half a\nspear's cast from the wurley, something they could not see brought them\nto a sudden, gasping halt.  It was as though a wall were there, soft\nand invisible, but yet a wall.  They could not touch it to climb over\nit, neither could they force their way through.  They struck at it, and\nit was as if their sticks struck the empty air.  There was nothing to\nsee but the wurley, and the fire, and the quiet women, and the air was\nclear and bright.  But no step farther could they advance.\n\nThey circled about the camp, trying at every step to get nearer to the\nwurley.  It was all to no purpose: always the wall met them, though\nthey could not see it.  So they came back to the point whence they had\nstarted, breathless, angry, and a little afraid.  They were brave men,\nand used to battle, but it is easier to fight a visible enemy than one\nthat lurks, unseen, in the air.  It was Magic, and they knew it.\nStill, their anger burned furiously within them, and one lifted a spear\ntipped with poisoned bone, and flung it at the women.  To see him lift\nhis hand was enough for the band.  A storm of spears went hurtling\nthrough the air.\n\nFor a few yards the spears flew straight and true.  But then they\nstopped suddenly in mid-flight, as though an unseen wall had met them.\nFor a moment they seemed to hang in the air, then they fell in a\njangling heap among the tussocks.  And beyond them, while the terrified\nwarriors shrank together, gesticulating and trembling, the women laid\nmore sticks upon the fire, and smiled.\n\nThe fighting-men were cunning, and they did not give in easily.  Not\nonly were they smarting with the fury of defeat, but the tale was not\none they wished to carry back to the tribe, lest they should become a\nlaughing-stock even to the women and young boys.  So they drew off,\nthinking under cover of night to renew the attack in the hope that when\nthe women slept their Magic would also sleep.  So, when darkness had\nfallen, they crept up again, on noiseless feet.  But the invisible wall\nwas there, and they could find no gap in its circle; while, all the\ntime, the fire burned redly before the wurley, and the women sat by it,\nfeeding it, and weaving their mats of white and green.\n\nAt length the warriors became weak for want of food, and weary of the\nuseless struggle; and so they gave up the fight and slowly made their\nway back, across swamp-land and morass, to the tribe that waited for\nthem, shivering and fireless, in the shadow of the hills.\n\nGreat and bitter were the lamentations at the news of their defeat.\nThey had been eagerly watched for; and when they came slowly back to\nthe camp, trailing their spears, a long cry of angry disappointment\nrent the air.  It was difficult to believe their story.  Who could\nimagine a wall, strong enough to stop warriors, yet that could not be\nseen?  So they found themselves coldly looked upon, and their wives\nsaid unpleasant things to them in their wurleys that night.  Quite a\nnumber of wives had sore heads next morning--since it was easier to\ndeal with a talkative wife by means of a waddy than by argument.  But\nthe wives had the last word, for all that, and the small boys of the\ntribe used to call jeering words at the disgraced warriors, from the\nsafe concealment of a clump of dogwood, or fern.  Meanwhile, there was\nno cooked food.  The tribe was very far from being happy.\n\nThen a band of young men, who were not picked warriors, but were\nanxious to distinguish themselves, made up their minds that they would\ngo forth to find the Fire-Women and slay them, and bring back Fire to\nthe tribe.  They were very young men, and so they were confident that\nthey could succeed where the warriors had failed; and for at least a\nweek before they started they went about the camp telling every one how\nthey meant to do it.  When they were not doing this, or singing songs\nabout the great deeds they meant to perform--and very queer songs they\nwere--they were polishing their weapons and making new ones, and\ntalking together, at a great rate, of their secret plans.  When they\nwere ready, at last, they painted themselves with as much pipe-clay as\nthey were allowed to use, and gathered together to start.\n\n\"When we have killed the Fire-Women,\" they said to the tribe, \"some of\nus will turn homewards and wait here and there along the way.  Then the\nothers will run with the fire-stick, and as they grow tired those that\nhave gone ahead will take it and run very swiftly back to you.  In\nthree days the tribe will be cooking food with the fire which we shall\nbring.  Then we shall get married and have wurleys and fires of our\nown.\"\n\nAll the blacks listened gravely, except the fighting-men who had not\nbrought back anything at all.  These men laughed a little, but no one\ntook any notice of their laughter, because they had failed, and it is\nthe way of the world not to think well of failures.  The girls thought\nthe band of young warriors wonderfully noble, and smiled upon them a\ngreat deal as they marched out of the camp.  Of course, the boys were\nmuch too proud to smile back again--but then, the girls did not expect\nthem to, and were quite content to do all the smiling.  So the little\nband marched off with a great flourish, and the Bush swallowed them up.\n\n\"May they come back soon!\" said one girl, as she and her companions dug\nfor yams next day.\n\n\"Ay!\" said the others.  \"We are weary of eating things which are not\ncooked.\"\n\n\"I am weary of being cold,\" said one.  \"There is but one 'possum rug in\nour wurley, and my father takes it always.\"\n\n\"There will be great feasting and joy when they bring Fire back,\" said\nanother.  \"Perhaps some of us will be married, too.\"  And they laughed\nand made fun of each other, after the fashion of girls of any colour.\n\nBut the three days had not past when the young men returned: and when\nthey came, they sneaked back quietly into the camp and tried to look as\nif they had not gone at all.  They had washed the pipe-clay from their\nbodies, and were all quite anxious to work very hard and make\nthemselves exceedingly useful to the older men; nor were they at all\nanxious to talk.  They gave severe blows to the young boys who\nclustered round them, clamouring for news, and told them to go and\nplay.  But when they were summoned before the leaders, they hung their\nheads and told the same story as the warriors.  They had seen the\nFire-Women, they said, and they still sat before their wurley and fed\nthe fire; but the young men could not come near them, nor could any of\ntheir weapons reach them.  And when they were wearied with much\nthrowing, and their arms had grown stiff and sore, a great fear came\nsuddenly upon them, and they turned and fled homeward through the\nscrub, never stopping until they came upon the huts they knew.  Now\nthey were very much ashamed, and the girls mocked at them, but the\nwarriors shook their heads understandingly.\n\n\"To fight is no good,\" they said.  \"Unless the magic-men can tell us\nhow to beat down the magic wall and conquer the Fire-Women, the tribe\nwill go for ever without Fire.  We are wonderfully brave, but we cannot\nfight witchcraft.  Let the magic-men undertake the task, for indeed it\nis a thing beyond the power of simple men.  But is it not for such\nmatters that we keep the magic-men?\"\n\nThen all the tribe said, \"Yes, that is what we have been thinking all\nalong.\"  And they looked expectantly at the magic-men, demanding that\nthey should at once accomplish the business, without any further\ntrouble.  Every one became quite pleased and hopeful, except the\nmagic-men themselves--and _they_ were in a very bad temper, because\nthey did not like the task.\n\nStill they held their heads high, and made little of the matter,\nbecause to do anything else would have been imprudent: and they looked\nas wise as possible--a thing they had trained themselves to do, whether\nthey knew anything about a matter or not.  All kinds of wise men can do\nthis, and it is a very handy habit, because it makes people think them\neven wiser than they are.  They went away by themselves, with dreadful\nthreats of what might happen if the people came near them--not that\nthere was any need for them to take such precautions, for the blacks\nwere much too terrified by them to venture near when they were working\nany kind of Magic.\n\nA great deal of what the blacks called Magic would seem very stupid to\nyou if you watched it now; but they all believed in it firmly, and even\nthose who knew that they deceived others still thought that Magic was a\nreal thing, and that it could be practised upon them.  The magic-men\nshut themselves up for a time; and then they told the men that they had\nmade themselves into crows, and had flown over to watch what the\nFire-Women were doing.  As all the tribe believed that, they could turn\nthemselves into any animal they chose, and be invisible, nobody thought\nof doubting this.  The magic-men then began to weave spells.  They\nchopped the branches from a young she-oak tree, and cleared away grass\nand sticks in a circle round it.  Then they sharpened the end of the\ntrunk, and drew on the ground the figure of a woman, with the lopped\ntree growing out of her chest.  Afterwards they rubbed themselves all\nover with charcoal and grease, and danced and sang songs round the tree\nfor some days, expecting the Fire-Women to feel their Magic, so that\nthey would have to rise from their camp and walk, as if in a sleep, to\nthe place of the dance.  But the women did not come, and so the\nmagic-men told themselves that they were not yet strong enough.\nMeanwhile, the tribe clustered some distance off, very frightened and\nrespectful, and also very cold.\n\n[Illustration: \"They rubbed themselves all over with charcoal and\ngrease, and danced and sang songs round the tree.\"]\n\nThe magic-men tried other plans, although they were much hampered\nbecause many of their spells needed the use of Fire, and there was none\nto be had.  They tried to kill the women by pointing magic things in\nthe direction of their camp, such as bones, and pieces of\nquartz-crystal, which were believed to be very deadly; and, going to\ntheir old wurley, they put sharp fragments of bone in any footprints\nthey could find, thinking that the women would fall ill and become very\nlame, and so lose their power.  But nothing happened.  So they sent one\nof their number secretly through the Bush, and he returned to tell them\nthat the women were well and unharmed, and that the invisible wall\nabout their camp was just as strong as ever.\n\nThen the magic-men knew that they could do no more.  They told the\npeople that the only spells that would conquer the Fire-Women were\nspells in which Fire formed a part; and until they could bring them\nFire, they must not expect to be freed from the power of the women.\nThe tribe did not like this, and much lamentation went up; but they\nwere much too afraid of the magic-men to object openly to anything they\ndid.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nAt this time there lived in the tribe a man called Wurip.\n\nHe was not a lucky man.  Once, in a big tribal fight, most of his\nrelations had been killed; and when he was still quite a young man, his\nwife died of a mysterious sickness, before they had been married very\nlong.  Then, one night, he tripped and fell into a big fire, burning\nhimself terribly.  He got better, but his left arm and hand were quite\ntwisted and withered, and were of very little use to him.\n\nHad he been a different kind of man, it is not unlikely that he would\nhave been killed by the tribe, for the blacks had no use for maimed or\ndeformed persons.  But Wurip was strong, apart from his twisted arm;\nand also he had a way of muttering to himself that rather frightened\npeople.  It was only a habit, but the blacks were always afraid of what\nthey could not understand.  So they left him alone.\n\nHe lived in a little wurley by himself, and though he was lonely, and\nwould have liked to take another wife, he knew that no girl would want\na man whose arm and hand were not like those of other men.  So he did\nnot try to get married, and gradually he became very solitary.  He\nthought the other men disliked him, and he would go away by himself on\nhunting expeditions, and wander through the scrub alone.  Although he\nwas half a cripple, he soon learned to know the Bush more thoroughly\nthan any man in the tribe, and he trained his shrivelled arm to do a\ngreat deal, although at first it had seemed that it must be useless for\never.  The other blacks at first gave him nick-names about his arm, but\nhe did not like them, and his eyes were so fierce that they did not let\nhim hear them any more, and to his face only called him by his own\nname, Wurip, which means \"a little bird.\"\n\nNow, Wurip loved his tribe.  He had no special friends in it, which was\npartly his own fault, for he had grown very unsociable, but he was\nproud of the tribe itself, because it was brave and owned good country,\nand had been successful in many fights.  It made him sore at heart to\nsee it suffering from the want of Fire, and also it hurt his pride that\nit should have been beaten by women.  So he made up his mind that he\nwould try to recover Fire from the wicked Fire-Women.  He thought about\nit for a long time, and laid his plans very carefully.\n\nOne day he left the camp, carrying no weapons, but only a single waddy.\nThe other blacks said to him:\n\n\"Where are you going?\"\n\nWurip said, \"I go to try to get Fire back.\"\n\n\"You!\" they said.  \"A little man, and crippled!  That is very funny.\"\nAnd all the people laughed at him.\n\nWurip hesitated, and a gleam came into his eyes, so quick and fierce\nthat those who had laughed shrank back.  Then he turned on his heel and\nwalked off into the scrub, and the blacks said, \"Let him go.  He is\nmad, and he will most likely be killed; and it really does not matter.\nHe is not much use.\"\n\nInto the wild Bush Wurip went, taking short noiseless strides.  He was\na little man, but he had the quick movements of many little men, and at\nall times he could move rapidly through the Bush, scarcely making a\nsound as he went.\n\nHe passed through the scrub, and came to boggy lands and morasses; his\nlight feet carried him over swamps and across creeks fringed with reeds\nand sedges.  Then he saw a light curl of smoke going lazily skywards,\nand at the sight his heart gave a leap, for it was long since he had\nseen Fire.\n\nUntil then he had travelled very quickly.  But now he slackened his\nspeed and went slowly across the plain towards the Fire-Women's camp.\nAs he drew near he could see them, sitting in front of the wurley and\nweaving their rushes.  They did not look up as he came, and he advanced\nso near them that he began to think that the magic wall could be there\nno longer.  Just as he was wondering if this were indeed true, one of\nthe Fire-Women glanced up and saw him; and almost immediately Wurip\nfelt some invisible object blocking his way, and knew he could go no\nfarther.\n\nHe stopped, and burst out laughing, and at the sound of his merriment\nthe other Fire-Woman glanced up sharply from her weaving, and the first\none paused, with a stick of she-oak wood in her hand, and looked at him\nin blank astonishment.  So silent was the place that Wurip's shout of\nlaughter echoed like a thunderclap.  The Fire-Women looked at the\nlittle black figure standing among the harsh tussocks of swamp-grass,\nand he waved to them with his withered arm.  But they took no further\nnotice, going on scornfully with their work.\n\nWurip had expected nothing else, and he was not discouraged.  He began\ncollecting sticks and brushwood for a wurley, singing as he went about\nhis work, in full view of the two women.  He made no further attempt to\nget through the invisible wall.  There was not much timber about, and\nto find suitable material for his wurley was a difficult task.  He\nwalked slowly, using his crippled arm very little, because he hoped\nthat the women would be less careful about him if they regarded him as\na one-armed man.  Sometimes he felt that they were looking at him, and\nthen he would work with particular awkwardness.  Always, however, he\nsang, and went about with a merry countenance, as if he had not a\nsingle care in the world.\n\nHe built his wurley and went off into the swamp to hunt, returning with\nsome lizards and grubs, and a duck that he had caught just as it\nsettled on a sedgy pool.  Standing a little way back from the wall, he\ncalled out and threw the duck towards the fire where the women sat.\nBut it fell before it reached them, meeting the unseen obstacle.\n\n\"What a pity--it is for you!\" called Wurip, slowly, so that they could\nhear easily.  \"It is a fat duck.\"  And saying this he laughed again,\nand went into his wurley, where he ate his supper contentedly--although\nit was not cooked--and went to sleep.\n\nIn the morning, the women were sitting as before.  But the duck had\ngone, and, looking closely across the little space, Wurip saw that\nthere were feathers lying about near their fire.  Also there was a\npleasant smell of cooking in the air.  This gladdened his heart, for it\nshowed that the women did not mind making him useful, and that was\nexactly what he wanted.\n\nSo the days went by, and Wurip lived in his wurley, and the women in\ntheirs.  He never saw them away from it.  Neither did he try any more\nto go near it.  From time to time he made them friendly signals, or\ncalled cheerful greetings to them, but that was all.  Each day he went\nhunting, and good luck always attended him, because it was the time\nwhen waterfowl are plentiful, and as no others hunted there, the birds\nwere not afraid.  It was quite easy to fill the bag he had made out of\nrushes.  And each evening he put the best of the game on a big stone\nsome distance from his wurley, and in the morning it was always gone.\n\nThis went on for fourteen days.  When he was not hunting, Wurip lay\nabout his camp, always singing contentedly as he carved himself\nboomerangs or whittled heads for throwing-spears that he never used.\nOnce he carved a bowl from a root that he found, and this also he put\non the stone, for the Fire-Women, and they took it.  He gathered\nbundles of the rushes that women of the tribes use in weaving, and left\nthem too.  So that he became very useful to them, although he had never\nheard their voices.\n\nThen, after fourteen days, Wurip pretended that he had fallen sick.  He\ndid not go out hunting any more, neither did he place offerings upon\nthe big stone.  In his wurley he had hidden sufficient food for himself\nto last him for several days, but he did not let the Fire-Women see him\neating.  Instead, he crawled out, dragging himself along the ground,\nand cried out, sorrowfully, waving his withered arm to them.  He\ncrawled back into his wurley and ate and slept; but they did not come,\nas he had hoped they would.\n\nNext day he did not go out into the open at all.  He kept close within\nhis wurley, and all the exercise he took was to groan very mournfully.\nHe groaned nearly all day, and by the time it was evening he was more\ntired than if he had hunted for three days.  Because he was tired he\nate nearly all that remained of his food, after which he felt\ndiscouraged, for he realized that it would soon be necessary to go out\nhunting again, and he wanted to seem ill.  So he groaned more loudly\nthan ever, and once or twice cried out as if in pain.  Then he fell\nasleep.\n\nThe Fire-Women were fierce creatures, but still they were women.  It\ntroubled them that this crippled little blackfellow should be ill, too\nill to bring them gifts or to busy himself, singing and laughing about\nhis camp.  To sit over a fire and weave mats of white and green may, in\ntime, become dull; and it cheered the women to see Wurip and listen to\nhis songs.  When he did not appear they took counsel together, agreeing\nthat so small a fellow, with a withered arm, could not be dangerous.\n\nSo, in the morning, Wurip heard steps, and opening his eyes, he saw one\nof the women entering his wurley.  He almost jumped up; then,\nremembering, he groaned heavily, and looked at her with a stupid stare.\nShe spoke to him, asking what was the matter, but he only moaned in\nanswer.  So she picked him up--it was not difficult, for she was very\npowerful, and Wurip was quite light--and carried him over to where her\nsister sat.  There seemed to be no invisible wall now: the Fire-Woman\nwalked to the fire, and put Wurip down before it.  He nearly shouted,\nit was so long since he had been near a fire: but, luckily, he\nremembered to turn the shout into a groan.\n\nFor some days Wurip pretended to be very ill, and the Fire-Women nursed\nhim--not in the harsh fashion of the medicine-men, but in gentler\nmanner, feeding him, and giving him a comfortable bed to lie on.  Wurip\nwas only too glad to lie still and be fed, and it was not hard for him\nto pretend to be ill, because, being black, he was not required to look\npale.  Moreover, to taste cooked food once more nearly made him weep\nwith joy.  He was very grateful to the Fire-Women, and told them that\nhe was an outcast from the tribe, because of his crippled arm, and he\nbegged that, when he grew better, they would allow him to serve them.\n\nThe Fire-Women were not sorry to have a servant.  Getting food and\nfirewood was not very entertaining for them, and the gathering of\nrushes was a long and laborious task, which they hated.  There could,\nthey thought, be no risk in taking so harmless a person as Wurip to\nwork for them.  Still, they were stern with him.  They told him that\nwhen he was well he must live in his own wurley and only come near\ntheirs when it was necessary.  Also, they assured him that if he were\nunfaithful to them their Magic would strike him dead immediately.  This\nmade Wurip think very hard, for he did not want to meet such an\nunpleasant fate, although he was quite determined to take Fire back to\nhis tribe.\n\nHe showed great horror at the idea of being unfaithful, and when he\nthought it was prudent to get better he recovered his strength--not too\nquickly, for it was very pleasant to be nursed--and then began his\nduties.  The Fire-Women found him an excellent servant.  He was always\nat hand when he was wanted, and he did his work well.  There was plenty\nof food at all times, and very long fine rushes that he found when he\nwas hunting far from the camp.  Wood he brought also, but the\nFire-Women would never allow him to go near the fire.  He laid the\nsticks at a little distance away: and they tended the fire and cooked\nthe food, giving him a share.  Altogether, they were very happy and\ncomfortable, and if he had been able to forget the shivering tribe,\nWurip would have been content.  Although he was only a servant, he was\nless lonely than he had been in the company of the other blacks.  The\nFire-Women were stern with him, but they never made him remember that\nhis arm was crippled--and when he had been with the tribe he could not\nforget for an instant that he was different to the others.\n\nSometimes in the evenings, as he lay in his wurley, the thought came to\nhim that it would be better to forget the tribe and stay with the\nFire-Women.  After all, they were good to him in their fierce fashion,\nand he remembered that he had very little to look forward to, in\nreturning to the big camp.  Even if he took back the long-lost Fire,\nthey might be grateful to him for a little while, but he would never be\nas the other men were.\n\nAnd then Memory would come to him, bringing back pictures of the tribe,\nhalf starved and shivering; of the little children who were dying for\nwant of proper food and warmth, and of the cold hearth-stones of his\npeople.  However they might treat him, he could not forget that they\nwere his own people.  He knew that he must go back to them.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nWurip lay on his back in the shade of a golden wattle and listened idly\nto the Bush voices talking round him.  He heard far more than you would\never hear--voices of whispering leaves and boughs, of rustling grass,\nand softly-moving bodies.  Not a grasshopper could brush through a\ntussock but Wurip knew that it had passed.  Overhead, birds were\ntwittering gaily in the branches.  He knew them all--had he been hungry\nhe might have wanted to set snares for some of the little chirping\nthings, but just then he was too well-fed and lazy to trouble about\nsuch tiny morsels.  He bit long grass-stems lazily, and tried to sleep.\n\nA pair of jays flew into a tree close by, and began to chatter to each\nother, and suddenly Wurip found that he knew what they were saying.\nSomehow, it did not seem surprising that he should know.  Afterwards he\nwondered if he had dreamed it, but at the moment nothing was strange to\nhim.  The jays, eager and chattering, did not notice the little black\nfigure in the grass.  They were too full of their subject.\n\n\"The Fire-Women have nearly finished their weaving,\" said one.  \"Soon\nthe last mat will be done.  They have worked very quickly since Wurip\nbrought them rushes.\"\n\n\"And then they will go away,\" said the other.\n\n\"Yes, then they will go quite away, and there will be no more Fire for\never.  He-he! what would the tribe say!\"\n\n\"And Wurip!\"\n\n\"Yes, Wurip also.  What will he do when they have gone?\"\n\n\"He will go back to his people, I suppose.  He cannot go with the\nFire-Women.  I think, brother,\" said the smaller jay, \"that they mean\nto sail away on their mats to another country, taking Fire with them.\"\n\n\"Certainly they mean to go, and to take Fire with them; did we not hear\nthem talking about it while we perched on their wurley?\" said the\nother.  \"As for sailing away on their mats, I do not see now that can\nbe.  Mats are not like wings.  You are a foolish young bird.\"\n\n\"Well, why do they make them so strong and large, and how else will\nthey get away?\" asked the other, looking down his beak in an abashed\nway, out still sticking to his point.  \"You cannot tell me those\nthings.\"\n\n\"I do not care to know,\" said the big jay; and that was untrue, because\njays are very inquisitive.  \"What does it matter?  They are only\nhumans.  But wonder what Wurip would say, if he knew.\"\n\n\"Wurip thinks he will take Fire back to the tribe.  But I do not think\nhe will ever get it.  The Fire-Women watch him too closely--and anyhow,\nhe is only a little cripple.\"\n\n\"He would be excited if he knew what we heard them say--that if they\nlost any of it now, all the rest would go out, and then their power\nwould leave them, so that they could work no more Magic.\"\n\n\"He-he-he!\" chattered the other jay.  \"But he will never know that.\nThey do not talk when he is near.\"\n\n\"No, they are wise.  It is a very foolish thing to talk,\" said his\nbrother solemnly.  Yet they chattered for a little while longer, and\nthen they flew away.\n\nWurip lay motionless under the wattle-tree, and forgot to bite\ngrass-stems any more.  He was not sure whether he was awake or\ndreaming; and he did not greatly care, because he felt that the warning\nthat had come to him was true, whether he had dreamed it or not.\n\nIt fitted in with little things he had noticed.  Lately the Fire-Women\nhad been very busy at their weaving, working night and day, so that he\ncould hardly bring them rushes quickly enough.  A great pile of mats\nlay ready in a corner of their wurley, and now they were working\ntogether at the largest of all.  They had seemed restless and excited,\ntoo, and talked earnestly together, although they were careful not to\nlet him hear anything, and never to let him go near the fire.  Not that\nthey seemed to fear now that he would try to approach it.  Wurip had\nbeen very careful, never even glancing towards it as he worked about\nthe camp.  He was allowed to place his firewood at a certain spot, and\ntook great pains not to go beyond it.  In every way in his power he\nused to try to make them think that he was afraid of Fire and dreaded\nto go too close to it since he had burned his arm.  By this means he\nseemed to have put their suspicions to sleep, and they regarded him as\na harmless little fellow, of whom they need have no fear.\n\nHe made his way back to the camp, slowly, thinking hard.  If the\nFire-Women were really going away, he must act, and act quickly.  At\nany time they might finish their work; and then they would disappear\nfor ever, and there would be no more Fire to warm the people of the\nearth.  Wurip drew up his thin little body as he walked, and clenched\nhis fist.  He made up his mind that he would act that very night.\n\nHe found the camp just as usual, with the Fire-Women working at their\ngreatest mat of all, weaving it in and out in a curious device of green\nand white.  One held the white strands, and the other the green; and\ntheir black hands worked so quickly that Wurip could scarcely see to\nwhich woman they belonged.  He looked at it with great admiration, and\nventured a timid word of praise.  Then he went a little way off and\nbegan to skin the native cats and bandicoots that he had brought home.\n\nWhen he had prepared them for cooking, he laid them carefully on\ncrossed sticks and put them in a shady corner.  It was growing dusk,\nand he hurried off to find firewood.  All the time, he was turning many\nplans over and over in his mind, and rejecting one after another as\nuseless.  Well, he thought, he must trust to luck.\n\nHe came back to the camp with his bundle of wood, and began to heap it\nin the accustomed place, keeping a respectful distance from the Fire,\nand bending down his eyes, lest their burning desire should be seen.\nAlready the sun had gone away over the edge of the world, and darkness\nwas coming fast.  The Fire-Women had been forced to stop weaving, for\nthe pattern of the great mat was too fine to weave by firelight.\nGenerally, when they had finished, one carried the work into the wurley\nwhile the other remained outside to watch Wurip and begin the cooking.\nBut the great mat was now too heavy for one to lift, and so they rolled\nit up, and carried it away together.\n\nWurip, crouching over his heap of firewood, felt his body suddenly\nstiffened like a steel spring.  Under his brows he watched them; and as\nthe wurley hid them, he darted forward, snatched a big fire-stick from\nthe glowing coals, and fled, with great noiseless bounds that carried\nhim in a moment far into the dusk.  Behind him he heard a sudden loud\nanguished cry, and knew that the Fire-Women had found out his theft.\n\nFor a moment he feared that the magic wall would spring up to bar his\nway, and he ran as he had never run before.  But it did not come; and\ninto his mind swept the words of the jay, that if Fire were taken from\nthe Women, they would lose their power of Magic.  He hardly dared to\nthink that could be so--but as he ran on, finding no unseen obstacle in\nhis way, hope surged over him.  Magic was a thing against which no man\ncould fight.  But if he had only ordinary women to deal with, he was\nnot afraid.\n\nA few hundred yards from the wurley, he glanced back, and saw that\ntheir fire no longer sent its red gleam into the dusk.  His heart leapt\nwith joy, for it seemed as if the jays' story must be true; and if so,\nthe Fire-Women's hearth was cold, and already the only Fire in the\nworld was what he carried.  The greatness of the thought caught his\nbreath--surely such an honour should be for the bravest warrior of the\ntribe, and not for a half-crippled, undersized weakling like him.  And\nbehind him came a sudden trampling of running feet, and a cry of such\nterrible anger that the very waterfowl in the swamps hid themselves in\nfear.  The Fire-Women were on his track.\n\nWurip ran forward, leaping from tussock to tussock sometimes slipping\ninto bog-holes, and scratching his bare limbs on great clumps of\nsword-grass.  In his withered hand he clutched the fire-stick; the\nother held his waddy, and sometimes he was glad to use it to help\nhimself over rough places.  Luckily, he knew the ground well--there was\nno part of it that he had not studied on his days out hunting, knowing\nthat at any time he might have to make his dash for home.  He hid the\nglow of the fire-stick as much as he could, holding it so close to him\nthat his skin was scorched by it; but his precautions could not conceal\nit altogether, and to the Fire-Women behind him it was like a red star,\ntwinkling low down upon earth.\n\nThey came after Wurip swiftly.  At first they had uttered savage cries\nof wrath, and fierce threats of what they would do to Wurip when they\ncaught him; but soon it seemed that they knew that shouts and threats\nwere useless, and after that they hunted him silently, only the quick\npad of their feet being heard in the darkness.  They were terribly\nquick feet.  Wurip had not dreamed that women could run so fast.\nSometimes, as the moon rose, he could see them in pursuit, grim and\nrevengeful, looking like giants in the darkness.  His soul was full of\nterror at the thought of what they would do if they caught him, for he\nknew that he would be but a little child in their hands.\n\nThey crossed the swamps and morasses, and the reed-fringed creeks--and\nhere Wurip lost ground, for he had to go very carefully, lest he should\nslip and so drown the precious fire-stick that he held close to him.\nOnly a blackfellow could have kept it alight so long; but Wurip knew\njust how to hold it so that the air fanned it enough to keep the dull\ncoals glowing, without letting it burn too quickly away.  He heard the\nFire-Women splash through the creeks, not far behind him.  Then they\ncame into the scrub-country, all running at their wildest speed, for\nthis was the last part of the journey back to the tribe.\n\nThen Wurip knew that he must be beaten.  He was nearly done--his breath\ncame unevenly, and his limbs were like lead, and would no longer do his\nbidding.  Fierce and untired, close behind him, came the Fire-Women.  A\nlittle ahead, he knew of a bed of green bracken fern in a gully, and he\nset his teeth in the resolve to get thus far.\n\nThey were quite near him when the dark line of the gully showed,\nsomewhat to his left.  He threw all his remaining strength into a last\nspurt of energy, and then, turning from the straight line towards the\ncamp of the tribe, he crept through the scrub to the gully, holding\nboth hands over the fire so that it might not guide the Fire-Women to\nhis place of refuge, and heedless of the cruel burning.  He reached the\ngully safely, and flung himself face downwards among the rank ferns and\nnettles, panting as if his heart would burst from his body.  He heard\nthe Women run past, tirelessly swift; there came to him their angry\nvoices, calling softly, lest they should miss each other in the dim\nscrub.  They had not seen him swerve--that was clear; and Wurip hugged\nhimself with joy to think that for the moment he was safe.\n\nWhen they had passed, and the sound of their feet had died away, he\ncrept from his gully and fled in a northerly direction.  He ran all\nthrough the dark hours, with long trotting strides, as a dingo runs,\nand circling round so that he might miss the Fire-Women and come upon\nthe camp from the other side.  Sometimes he paused to rest, listening\nfor the sound of the other hastening feet--but they did not come, and\nat last he believed that he had escaped pursuit.\n\nHe was very tired--so tired that at last he lost something of the\nblackfellow's keenness that guides him through even unknown country in\nthe dark.  Something seemed to have broken in his chest, from the time\nof his last mad spurt from the Fire-Women, and now each breath stabbed\nhim.  Perhaps it was because he was so tired that at last he became\nconfused altogether, and swerved from the track he had mapped out for\nhimself to get back to the camp; and when dawn broke he was back in the\ndirection where he might expect to meet pursuit.  Even as this dawned\nupon him, he looked up and saw the Fire-Women running silently towards\nhim, their fierce eyes gleaming.\n\nWurip knew it was the end.  He fled, knowing as he went that he could\nnot run far.  Behind him came the Women, tireless as though they had\nnot spent the night in fruitless chase.  He clutched the fire-stick to\nhim, scarcely knowing that it burned his hands and his naked chest.\n\nRounding a clump of saplings, a sob burst from his labouring chest.\nBefore him he saw the familiar camp, the wurleys clustered together; it\nseemed to smile at him in home-like fashion.  So near home, to fail!\nHe spurred himself to the last effort.\n\nThen from the camp burst a knot of fighting-men, racing towards him.\nHe caught the glint of the rising sun on their spears and\nthrowing-sticks; and he waved to them, for he could not shout.  They\ncame on with great strides: there was music in the sound of their\ntrampling feet.  When they came to him, they divided, running past him,\nand Wurip staggered through the lane they formed.  He heard fierce\ncries and blows behind him, but he did not stop.\n\nBefore him the camp lay, and never had it smiled to him a welcome so\nsweet.  There were people running out to meet him; men, women, and\nlittle children: he could hear their voices, amazed and\nrejoicing--\"Wurip!  It is Wurip, bringing us Fire!\"  He tried to smile\nat them, but his lips would not move.  So he staggered in to the circle\nof the huts, and there fell upon his face, still grasping the red\nfire-stick in his blistered hand.  It was all red now, for it had\nburned down to the last few inches.\n\nThen, as they clustered round him, lifting him with gentle hands and\nblessing his name, he smiled at them a little, and died peacefully,\nhappy that he had brought back Fire to his own people.\n\nBut to the people he did not die.  Ever after they honoured his name,\ncalling him the benefactor of the tribe: so that in death he found that\nhonour that forgot he had ever been little and weak, and a cripple.\nAnd when you see the little Fire-tailed Finch that hops about so\nfearlessly, with the bright red feathers making a patch of flame on its\nsober plumage, you are looking at Wurip, the Fire-bringer, who gave his\nlife to vanquish the wicked Fire-Women and to lay Fire once more upon\nthe hearth-stones of his tribe.\n\n\n\n_Printed in Great Britain by_ Butler & Tanner, _Frome and London_\n\n\n\n      *      *      *      *      *\n\n\n\n  MARY GRANT BRUCE'S\n\n  POPULAR STORIES\n\n  Published by\n  WARD, LOCK & CO., LTD.\n\n  A LITTLE BUSH MAID\n  TIMOTHY IN BUSHLAND\n  MATES AT BILLABONG\n  FROM BILLABONG TO LONDON\n  GLEN EYRE\n  NORAH OF BILLABONG\n  GRAY'S HOLLOW\n  JIM AND WALLY\n  'POSSUM\n  DICK\n  CAPTAIN JIM\n  DICK LESTER OF KURRAJONG\n  BACK TO BILLABONG","title":"The Stone Axe of Burkamukk","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":65571}