“But there is no edge, and no point,” objected Giluram doubtfully. “The end of the shield is broad and rounded. Even if you did attempt a blow like that it would strike down well below the chin—at the top of the chest. It would only make him cough. Hard, maybe,” he added with a laugh.

“Yes,” admitted Red Kangaroo, gazing thoughtfully at the shield. “I have not shaped the end long enough, nor narrow and sharp enough as yet. But let us try it out.” And he jumped up and seized his nulla-nulla, while Giluram picked up shield and club.

Always, at these times, the lads wrestled for practice. The others were no match for Red Kangaroo, but this duel of shield against club should be different. The combatants circled one another warily, then suddenly leapt together to a clash of shield against shield, and smack of club against shield as they sprang aside, only to pounce at one another again. For swift minutes they struck at head and ankle and leg, then Giluram leapt well back and laughed.

“What have you done with your new weapon, Red Kangaroo? It has not cut my throat yet! ”

At their good-humoured laughter Red Kangaroo gazed in puzzled fashion at Giluram.

“No,” he said thoughtfully, “I had not thought of that. I did not think of making it so that it would cut an enemy’s throat!”

“It has not even touched my throat,” said Giluram, “let alone cut it!”

“No,” agreed Red Kangaroo seriously. “I have been trying to make it, but it is very difficult. I have not yet made the end the right shape, not yet long and pointed enough—”

But Giluram had leapt straight at him, and only by lightning-like footwork did Red Kangaroo dodge the club. He laughed delightedly as he leapt aside.

“Serve me right,” he said. “You almost caught me off guard. You would have cracked the skull of an enemy then.”

“And would have needed no end-pointed shield to do it!” replied Giluram. “Now what about this!” and he smashed his shield straight at Red Kangaroo’s face, while leaping in to swing his club low at his thigh. But at the very swing of the club he gave a startled grunt as his head was jerked back by Red Kangaroo’s shield end, jarring heavily against his throat and jerking him to his knees. His mouth gasping in agonized alarm, he rolled to his chest and over, clawing for breath.

A moment’s silence, then Red Kangaroo was kneeling with Giluram’s head on his knee.

“Giluram, Giluram!” he cried. “I didn’t mean to do it—I didn’t know I’d done it!”

Giluram’s ghastly attempt to smile was convulsed by his gasps. It was some time before he recovered. The young men, sitting round quietly discussing the happening, for once forgot their look-out duties. Red Kangaroo was examining the end of the shield in a puzzled silence.

At last he said thoughtfully, “It could not have been the newly shaped end of the shield alone that did it. It was what I had in mind might happen if I could think out the shape, but you can see the shape is far from right. It was only by chance it happened; something must have helped it. Not the blow alone—perhaps one shield dragging down against the other—”