VIII

MAN MUST FIND FOOD TO LIVE

A black night, and cold, too. Not a star—only blackness engulfing the earth. Came moaning wind bowing shivering tree-tops, and then near by, somewhere up in the night, tortured howls shudderingly dying away only to rise piercingly—two swaying branches these, writhing in agonised screeches as they were rubbed against one another by the wind. A demon thing, that wind, filling the night with moaning, rapidly swelling to a terrifying hum swiftly coming from far over the bush. Then all was roaring sound wherein the crash of falling trees was no more than a vanishing sigh. Thunder rocked the sky to roll in thunderous roars that pinned all live things against the shivering earth. Dazzling flame sizzled down as thunder roared again. In those blinding seconds the mushroom gunyahs of the Gunn-e-darr tribe shone vividly far down there upon the little clearing surrounded by moaning trees.

If modern man had witnessed that scene he would have marvelled that such flimsy things of bark could for a moment have sheltered the beings within from such a storm. But it was so. The end of each bark sheet making up the little, bell-shaped gunyahs was tucked so securely into the earth that there were neither corners nor edges that a jealous wind could get its teeth into and whirl away. The rounded bark was built over a light framework of bent saplings, and here and there each sheet was lashed to the framework with rope-like vine, the main points with thongs of kangaroo hide.

For this, the tribe’s main camp, was built much more solidly than their hunting camps. Each doorway was but a rounded hole cut out of the bark at ground level. Through this hole the family crawled in and out of the gunyah. On cold nights they blocked it with a little sheet of bark from the inside. Each gunyah was built with its “back” to the prevailing winds, while the little space of ground upon which the scattered shelters stood had centuries ago been chosen for this camp because the nature of the surrounding country and timber sheltered it from all weathers.

Yes, that terrifying flash from the sky illuminated even these tiny gunyahs upon the vast earth. Truly, Baia-me sees all things. Just two seconds—but not only the gunyahs were visible, even every hair showed upon the dark forms lying cuddled there—in each gunyah the warrior, his wife, his children, silent as frightened mice, moveless as the granite rock, huddled tight together for warmth, but above all for the reassuring comfort of companionship. Eerie gleam of eyes of father staring into mother’s eyes as again the voice of Baia-me thundered through the skies to roll around the earth. What had made Baia-me angry? Children’s eyes shut tight as they clung to parents trying to shut out the storm and the moaning of the spirits of the night.

Under each family was a sheet of bark, over same a kangaroo or possum-skin rug partly sheltering the huddled bodies. There was a surprising warmth from glowing embers and closely packed bodies in the enclosed little space. Only live coals there now, but the fire had warmed the ground underneath. The lightning flash was gone, leaving pitch blackness within the gunyahs except for that dull glow, and for the occasional gleam of white as eye of man or woman moved at the crash of some great branch coming hurtling down to tear its path amongst its fellows and thump dully outside.