He frowned. Hugging the clear, gently sloping bank just here, only a little distance back from the water’s edge grew a dark belt of hoop-vine scrub. Within that gloomy tangle of trees, shrubs, vine, and bracken fern a hundred enemies could lurk unperceived. And yet, though familiar with this menace from childhood there were—yes, tinkling laughter again—three young girls dawdling by the water close to that gloomy scrub. Despite all warning, advice, and command it had ever been so.

Three prized, valuable young girls lagging behind their hunting party—he frowned at the subdued laughter, the giggling coming from somewhere among those tall bullrushes along to his right. If he were chief of a tribe he would make certain that careless guards allowed no such opportunity to lurking woman-stealers. Anyway, he would make sure now that it would be a long time before these three girls dawdled thus again. With grim-set jaw he turned and strode on, clenching his wommera. He would spring out at the girls and land each a thump across the head that would send her spinning, he would push their heads under water until at their last choking gasp—and then he was flat upon the earth.

From out of the hoop-vine scrub had stepped two crouching, warriors, startling in their painted nakedness. In swift eagerness they ducked down the bank, then began to stalk up along the watercourse. Red Kangaroo thrilled to those sinewy bodies so stealthily, with such keen purpose, creeping along beside the bullrushes. Hunters these men, hunters now of women—his tribal women! He rose to a crouching position and began to hunt the hunters, tingling with a fiercely growing glee as his fingers twitched round his weapons, now deeply etched upon his face the Stone Age urge to hunt and kill. The raiders’ attention was concentrated on creeping closer, ever closer towards the muffled laughter occasionally coming from the reeds. Red Kangaroo crept eagerly on, itching to get within spear-throw of those lean, muscular backs stealthily moving ahead. Coombri men from the Terri-Hi-Hi by their tribal scars and war-paint—noted woman-stealers, the Terri-Hi-Hi. That black-bearded, wall-eyed savage ahead was a warrior of an advanced degree. Both were heavily armed, while Red Kangaroo carried only two war spears. But with every step ahead his heart was beating faster in that terrible urge to kill.

From the billabong edge the raiders were half standing now, peering among the bullrushes out towards the shallow water. Red Kangaroo crept swiftly on, hearing now quick laughter as the girls splashed after a frantically dodging tortoise. And then, from slightly rising ground, he could see over the reed tops the three wading girls seeking by touch of feet to scare the tortoise from its hiding place. And he saw now why the woman-stealers remained watching, hesitating. For one girl was wading a little distant from the others. Not far, but just a little too far. Otherwise the raiders could have crept into the reeds, then suddenly leapt out and felled a girl each with a single blow of the club. But the third girl would have one startled moment in which to scream the alarm. Red Kangaroo grinned fiendishly as he crept stealthily on, knowing how those two raiders must be on edge waiting for the three girls to come close together. If there had been only two they would have been so completely at the raiders’ mercy. But with three, each must be stunned on the instant to stifle any alarm, or it would be the raiders who would be running for their lives.