From away across camp by the warrior Boobuk’s gunyah again shrilled Kapota’s voice, followed by a roar as Boobuk leapt up and came striding among the gunyahs to throw himself down by Bungadoon’s fire. The ugly warrior’s battle-scarred face was fiercely twitching, hairy chest heaving, eyes under those beetling brows glaring at the fire. Old Bungadoon’s belly began rumbling as he laughed.

“What’s she doing to you now, little boy?”

“Wah!” growled the shaggy giant.

“But what did she do?” demanded Bungadoon.

“Sat on hot coals!” sneered Boobuk.

“What did she do that for?” asked Bungadoon in surprise.

“Because she didn’t know they were there!”

“Why didn’t she know?”

“How do I know!” snarled Boobuk. “She just sat! That’s all.”

“How did the coals come to be where she was going to sit?” broke in Pumbul quietly.

“I put them there,” growled Boobuk. “She was away gossiping. I was hardening a spear-head. I pulled the coals out of the fire, threw a few ashes over them, pushed in the spear-head, then went into the gunyah for my tying string. She came back and flopped down where she always sits and sat on the coals.”

“And she blamed you?” inquired Bungadoon.

“Of course she did!” snarled Boobuk. “She always does!”

“But it wasn’t you who sat on the hot coals,” said the interested Bungadoon, “so what did you kick up such a fuss about?”

“Because she threw my spear-head into the fire,” snarled Boobuk.

Old Bungadoon threw back his head in a roar of laughter.

“Laugh your guts out! You don’t have to live with her!”

“You don’t know how to manage her, that’s all.”

“Manage her!” exploded Boobuk. “You’re just like the other fools!”

“What other fools?” demanded Bungadoon.

“These brats of boys who are howling that they can’t get a wife. A wife! They can have mine any old time and everything in the gunyah to go with her. Wait until they do get a wife, the fools! They’ll wish they’d never been born!”

“Still, you must find her handy to have around the place,” said Bungadoon soothingly. “She always seems to be doing something. What was the row about last night, when you woke the whole camp?”

“She whanged me over the head with my own nulla!” growled Boobuk.

Old Bungadoon gazed meditatively at this muscular brute who in fight had killed seven men.

“Why did she hit you over the head with the club?” he asked.

“Because I trod on her stomach.”

“Why did you tread on her stomach?”

“Because I had to get out of the gunyah to make water!” snapped Boobuk. “I trod on her stomach and fell over her and she snatched a nulla and clouted me one!”

“But what did you make such a fuss about?” demanded Bungadoon.

“Because she said I was the tail-end of last night’s dream!” howled Boobuk.

“But that didn’t hurt you,” said Bungadoon.

“No, but the next clout did!” snarled Boobuk.