The sharp drumming and clapping of the women rolled out through the bush until far into the night, the musical clicking of the kylies, the rise and fall of the hunting song sweetly blending with the movements of the dancers as they acted the life-story of the red kangaroo until he finally falls to the spear of the hunter.

It was near dawn when the dance ended. Sighing, the people arose. Some yawned, as if just realizing that they were sleepy. With low laughter and talk they began straggling away towards their gunyahs.

Suddenly Weetah glanced up. Giluram was walking beside her, fierce desire in his eyes; she saw his chest rise and fall.

“Kurridu zinunduninda!” he hissed. “I love you!”

Weetah’s hand tightened upon little Tuki’s as she gazed up, hearing herself whispering, “Da zinda gulirdul—you are my love.”

At the delight in Giluram’s face tears welled to Weetah’s eves. She gazed straight ahead, her heart one dull ache.

“Ssh!” she whispered urgently. “Walk on! Someone may see! It could mean death to us!”

And it was so—for such was the law. Alas, Weetah was not for Giluram; she had been promised as a baby to old Tulduna. What mattered the breaking hearts of Stone Age lad and girl, all the more bitter in the knowledge that, but for the cold selfishness and the distorted laws of certain of the old men, it need not have been so?

VII

THE NEW WEAPON

Not all had acclaimed the dancing of Red Kangaroo. Jerrabri had glowered there with a scowl on his broad, bearded face, reflected on the deep-lined visages of the elders. Smouldering hostility, too, showed in the unfriendly eyes of some among the middle-aged warriors.

For the sayings of this overgrown pup had been repeated to the council of the elders, who deeply resented the stripling’s criticism. He had had the temerity to declare that the chief and the elders were not administering the laws of the tribe in fairness. He had said even more—that not only were they administering the laws to their own selfish ends, but by so doing they were even endangering the very safety of the tribe! The chief and the elders bitterly resented such opinions, knowing in their secret hearts that they really had twisted several laws to their own selfish ends. This dangerous young firebrand must be watched; it might become necessary to quieten his tongue for ever. And the warrior Burradella also had better be careful, for it had come to the ears of the council that he had warned the lad to be more discreet.

Red Kangaroo was thinking on these same laws months later when he was on look-out duty again, this time up on Buriagala¹² or Booroobil Rock. Staring far out over river and plain and hill and bushland, he frowned at the injustice gradually, craftily done to the tribe. He understood now why Jerrabri and the two chiefs before him had twisted the laws to their own lasting advantage. For one twisted law gave them the right over every young girl in the tribe. They could sell her to any man they wished, and it was always to an older man, who had something with which to pay, whereas a young warrior had not.