She had found it in the head of a big old river jewfish some years before, when she was a very young girl. All alone she had found the big fish stranded in a shallow waterhole on a day when she had strayed from the women’s party, when for some unexplainable reason she had felt rebellious and miserable. The sight of that great big, helplessly stranded fish had been a thrill.

She had stared at him with a smile; from great eyes he had gazed back; she had felt him to be her very own. She had sat there and watched him a long time, she hated to pull him from the water. At last, of course, she had to.

Knowing now her escapade would be forgiven when she came staggering back to camp with such a mighty fish, she still felt rebellious, felt she wanted to do something she ought not to do. So, all alone by her little bush fire, she had roasted and eaten part of the enormous head. She could not eat the great big eyes. She had taken them across to a deep waterhole in the Namoi and let them sink back into the river. Thus the spirit of the mighty fish would swim for ever in that great big awful river.³²

It was when she had returned to dine upon the head that she had found her lucky charm—a small, pearly pebble growing in the “backbone-neck” of the fish, right behind the huge head.³³ She had told no one, but had slept with it, in the little bag, under her head ever since. She was certain that her lucky charm had helped her get Giluram. And now the baby.

And she was certain that as sure as Walcha the sun arose every morning, so would the lucky charm be putting great power for good into her healing powders. No matter how badly Giluram might one day be wounded, those powders would save him. And now the lucky charm, and the powders, and the dilly-bag were away back where she had left them by the log at the river crossing.

She called Giluram, who was acting as a guard, and explained softly, “I must bring back my dilly-bag! You take baby and carry on with the women and children. I’ll take little brother Tuki with me and run back and get the bag. You tell Burradella that Tuki and I will run fast there and back and will quickly catch him up.

“All right,” said Giluram as he took the baby. “But remember that Burradella will have no mercy on me if you do not soon both catch us up. Run all the way and return back along the lagoon creek.³⁴ The going is rougher that way, but much shorter.”

Weetah and Tuki ran back along the low bank of the creek until dense variegated thistles growing seven and eight feet high along both banks of the creek barred their way. They slipped down into the dry creek-bed and continued running until they were within a hundred yards of the river. Here the creek mouth was heavily snagged by logs, a matted barricade of dead, mud-encrusted timber, and they slowed down, to step or scramble over log after log. They did not talk, saving their breath for the long run back. Within twenty yards of the river crossing they froze in their tracks as a man’s guttural voice said, “Come here! Look at this!” and another grunted in reply.