“Wah!” Burradella nodded approvingly.

Had the hunters passed that wilga-tree the keen-eyed butcher-bird would probably have raised a shrill alarm. Then, had there been real enemies within hearing they would have come to see what had alarmed the butcher-bird. Thus the hunters had not only to advance unobserved to enemies, not only to hunt while leaving no visible track, but also to keep their eyes on the branches ahead, on the ground near their feet, the grass beside them, and the bushes around them, down into and along the gullies, among the tree-trunks all around, and through the bush ahead. For to startle a wallaby from the grasses or an alarm bird in a tree could cause a lurking enemy scout to come and investigate.

“Well,” said Burradella, “our hunters have proved too smart for us, as they would have, so far, for enemy scouts. But we know their intentions, and we know every inch of this country. Now, where do you believe they would make for?”

“The swamp of the big oaks!” they answered.

“Good. We shall see whether you have guessed right. Come.”

And at the full run he set off, the boys following. As they passed the wilga-tree the butcher-bird shrilled his alarm. Presently luxuriant swamp oaks with mighty gums appeared before them, a tang of water-weeds was in the air. As they dodged amongst the tree-trunks they heard plainly the muffled calls of many wildfowl. They emerged from the timber at a narrow neck of the swamp, the banks golden-green with tall grasses and reeds, the water gleaming clear and cool.

Hidden among the reeds by the water’s edge, Gilwan and Wanawah bobbed up smiling as Burradella and the boys came running. No word was spoken. Wanawah vanished amongst the tall grasses, working his way up along the swamp edge. Gilwan, again invisible amongst the reeds to any but those actually watching, was carefully pulling up a length of long-leafed, trailing water-vine. Cunningly he began to entwine this round his head until his black hair seemed but a bunch of leaves. Then he drooped long trailers of the vine over his shoulders and back until his crouching body was indistinguishable among the surrounding reeds. The expressive eyes of the watching boys told they had guessed his plan.

Gilwan squirmed slowly out into the water. The sharpest enemy scout, even from the near-by bank, could hardly have noticed him as inch by inch he crawled out into deeper water. No sign of a body, no ripples, only a bunch of water-weed gently, naturally drifting out into the narrow stream. As the water grew deeper so Gilwan gradually straightened up until he had waded out into midstream, which here was but a very narrow neck of the swamp, barely the width of a street, hemmed in by tall reeds, and only neck-deep in midstream. And now Gilwan stood there motionless, facing upstream, but invisible. There was only that loose bunch of water-weed, its tendrils idly drifting back with the stream. Under the weed his nostrils were just above water, his sharp eyes staring upstream through the leaves.