Then one day, deep in the heart of the bush, his warrior friend Burradella had gravely warned him also, suggesting that he bide his time—just a few more years until he would be a fully accredited warrior in full confidence of the tribe and could much more safely state his case.

“If you do not keep a quieter tongue and bide your time,” warned Burradella, “then one night you will wake up to feel the kiss of death.”

Red Kangaroo sighed. He knew that Burradella’s advice was good, but to youth, to wait seems long. He gazed out over his beloved tribal country, making sure no enemy was creeping over any of the widespread open areas visible from his eyrie.

This Booroobil Rock, commanding a wide stretch of country, was another great look-out post of the Gunn-e-darr Tribe. It is almost isolated, rising sheer near the bank of the Namoi. It was not only a look-out, but a revered spot too, for this great rock overlooked the sacred Bora grounds directly below. This was Baia-me’s Ground, the Ground of the Great Spirit—“He who built all things”.

It was at Baia-me’s command, far back in the Dream Time that the First Bora for the First Tribe was held. And he commanded that every tribe ever to be born into the aboriginal world must ever hold the Bora. And it was so.¹³

And Baia-me gave to each tribe the magic wand Dhurumbulum, which was endowed with life. It was only shown to those initiates who, exhausted and half dead, were judged worthy after having passed the long, painful trials. And it put a new life into them, which was one with the Life, life of the earth and all things therein, thus life of the tribe. Henceforth their life was only on loan to them, for their life belonged to the tribe. And the tribe belonged to Baia-me.

Each was then given the Bor, the belt of manhood. This had been touched with the Dhurumbulum and thus acquired some of its magical properties, of health to the wearer and immediate illness to an enemy. For if, as a last resort, the Bor was thrown at an enemy he would reel back in dire distress. But the Bor was sacred, too. It had to be hidden away by each initiate and only worn in case of great need, and then in secret. When the Builder had made all things and finally man, he left the earth, never to return. But to every Bora he sent his mediator, Turramulan, to represent him to his people. Turramulan is always present throughout the main ceremonies, though invisible. He in turn is visibly represented to the initiates by one of the old men in sacred costume, who, while training another to take his place, acts the part of Turramulan, representative of Baia-me, until he shall die and ascend to the Pleasant Lands far up in the Milky Way, there to receive life and rest and praise from Turramulan himself.