III

THE LIFE OF A STONE MAN

As for a thousand years, perhaps ever since the Dream Time, the winds sighed gently over the pine forests luxuriating among the foothills and the thousand valleys edging the vast plains³, loved homelands of the tribes of the Kamilaroi.

In the chill before a cloudy dawn Red Kangaroo awoke, yawned, threw off his possum rug, sleepily reached for his weapons, crawled out of his gunyah entrance, stood up, gazed round, listened. The camp, except for an uneasy snore here and there, was silent in sleep. Red Kangaroo woke four of the lads of his own age—two he had to kick in the ribs—whose turn it was for duty on Ydire⁴ look-out. Sleepily they awoke, shivering as they stood up despite their possum skin capes. At a grown warrior’s command, yes, but for no one their own age except Red Kangaroo would they have arisen at this dreary hour. For it is towards dawn that the aboriginal sleeps as if drugged.

Red Kangaroo made them drop their capes, despite the chill, for he believed that on duty he who is clad the lightest fights unhampered and travels the fastest. He stood by to see that no sleepy lad left a weapon behind—to each his three war spears, two hunting spears, two war boomerangs and one hunting boomerang, his fighting club, the nulla-nulla, also the throwing stick to break the legs of game or wings of flying birds at close quarters, his shield, his stone knife or blade of mussel shell and short-handled stone tomahawk secure within the hide thongs attached to the belt of human hair or twisted possum-fur tight round his waist. With a masterful grin Red Kangaroo saw to it that the hard, cold head of each sleepy-eyed boy’s tomahawk was resting snugly at the small of its owner’s back. Thus with ease he could use his weapons or run, or on the instant whip hand to back, snatch out the tomahawk, and fight. Also, with the tomahawk placed thus he could with ease “walk up” a tall tree, hold on with toes and one hand, reach behind him, pull out the tomahawk and chop out a possum, a wild bees’ nest, a goanna, or those birds that nest deep within hollow trunk or branch. In the belt also were two feather-light fire-making sticks. On such duties as this the Stone Age men, heavily armed, had a load to carry.

Satisfied, Red Kangaroo nodded, and taking the lead, the patrol walked silently out of camp. Other lads on look-out duty on other posts would not start out until Kukuburra the laughing jackass woke the camp with his ringing peals, not until all the tribe one by one awoke, the women sleepily lit the fires, and all had breakfast. But Red Kangaroo believed in his look-out men being well away from camp before dawn.

He frowned as quietly they walked away amongst the tall white and yellow box-trees, the knee-high blue-grass clammy with dew, the soft twittering of those first-dawn birds that awake with the earliest shivery grey coming to lighten the eastern sky. How easy for a stealthy enemy to creep into the sleeping camp on any morning like this! Not only should there be night watchers posted round the camp every night, but they should stay there until well after dawn, until well after the day look-out men had marched out past them to their posts in the hills. Once it had been so. But now the chief and the elders had grown lax. A time would surely come when the tribe would suffer because of this.