Then up from the river bank stepped two more warriors, coming casually towards the log. Despite her fear Weetah felt a momentary admiration for these solidly built men, striding forward as arrogantly as if they owned the country their big feet trod upon. These were picked warriors and must be of a large party, for they had braved their way through other tribes’ lands.

Weetah trembled. How many were there? If they were in large numbers, then they might steal down upon her tribal camp this very night. And the Red Chief with the hunter warriors was still away!

And now here was a long-feared enemy by the greatest of bad luck coming by the river crossing where he had walked right upon the women’s hunting tracks of this very day. But he would wait until after dark to follow them, not knowing the warriors were away.

Oh, had little Tuki got through? He, she, must find Burradella so he could warn the Red Chief. She must get back to warn the camp!

The two newcomers, each standing easily balanced upon one leg, hand resting upon upright spears, were questioning the two scouts sprawling on the log. One of the log men stood up, faced towards Weetah’s hiding-place, and pointed with an upthrust of the chin. She knew he was explaining that these fresh tracks they had found were apparently returning towards the Mullibah Lagoon. From somewhere down river a crow urgently called, “Cark! Cark!” The scouts listened, the crow called again, and three scouts immediately turned and started to run—in the direction of the distant Burrell Lagoon. The fourth man swept the things back into the dilly-bag, then he, too, seized his weapons and ran on after his mates.

“Most of them must be making for the old Burrell Lagoon camp,” thought Weetah. “They think to find us there. But these scouts will tell them of all these tracks leading towards the Mullibah Lagoon! They could all be back on these tracks before sunset!”

She peered up and down river, listening. Stood on tiptoe, searching, listening. No faintest sign of an enemy now. She took a desperate risk, but did not hesitate, stepped out of the thistles, raced to the river bank, peered, then swiftly began to wade, her ears alert for any sound anywhere, but her eyes only for one spot. She began to swim, then dived, but she knew she would find it—it would be waiting for her—exultantly she saw the little pearly sheen blinking up at her from the crystal clear bottom. Lovingly she picked it up, slipped it between her lips while still under water—and under water she swam back to the bank. As she climbed out she knew they would never get the charm, if chased she would swallow it and dive back into the river. But she felt now that everything would be all right. Little Tuki would get through; she would get through. Giluram and the baby and the tribe would be quite all right.