The evening hush was settling upon the bush. Those birds that are the last to roost were drowsily protesting from their leafy beds every here and there. In family and in friendly groups this Gunn-e-darr branch of the great Kamilaroi tribes ate hungrily while discussing the events of the day—the day’s hunt and the game speared by each good hunter, the fish caught by trap and line by the women and children, the wild ducks snared by the crafty wildfowl hunters, the yams and bulbs and berries gathered by the girls, the mussels and yabbies found and caught by the children. And hearty was the praise given by every family and group to those children who had done something to add to the food of the tribe, or to the stock of gums and resins used as cements in the making of weapons and utensils. There was grave talk, too, upon the training progress of the elder boys, leading of course to the hunting exploits and the promise of great warriorhood of Red Kangaroo.

Every here and there low-toned voices discussed the growing jealousy of the chief and his council of elders and their friends and supporters towards the warrior lad. Certainly he was talking a little too much, questioning among the young warriors as to whether the chief and tribal council were doing their full duty towards the tribe and towards the young warriors. But then, it was ever the way of youth to murmur thus. He would grow out of it. Meanwhile he had already proved himself the equal of the best hunters amongst them all and, as all knew, except for its leading fighting warrior, the leading hunter is the most valuable man in any tribe.

Friendly greetings broke out here and there as the shadowy forms of men came chattering into camp. Squatting amongst his young friends by a small fire, Red Kangaroo frowned as his piercing eyes watched all over the camp, his keen ears heard a great distance away. These new-comers were the watchers from the hills, who through the day kept a look-out for possible enemies advancing across the low country. They were now reporting to Jerrabri, “No sign of an enemy all day.” Presently the camp would rest in slumber—in false security, so Red Kangaroo believed. For this boy warrior was a deep thinker, and the safety of his tribe was very dear to him. Often he had thought that if he were an enemy seeking to attack this camp he would conceal his men in the scrub and rest all day out of sight of the look-outs on the hilltops, then advance across the more open country by night, and attack the sleeping camp at dawn.

He believed that at night, when the day watchers came in, then always night watchers should steal out and watch round the camp until after dawn, no matter how safe the camp might appear to be. Already he had made bold to suggest this safeguard to the tribal council. He had been told that a boy’s place was to hold his tongue.