Next day relations went out to bring in the bodies for burial and the long, solemn death ceremonies. After this would come vengeance. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a life for a life. The relations of the dead men must take up the blood feud, must kill three men at least of the Terri-Hi-Hi.

The warrior Burradella was chosen to lead the vengeance party. Red Kangaroo’s heart leapt at the news, for he was certain now he would be one of the band chosen. Most of the tribe believed so, too, for not only was he related to one of the victims but, under experienced leadership, his endurance, skill with weapons, strength and quickness made him an ideal man for such an enterprise.

Boastful laughter broke out. The Terri-Hi-Hi would rue the day they had raided the Gunn-e-darr men.

Red Kangaroo was not chosen to be one of the vengeance party. The camp was very surprised, more so Red Kangaroo. Then he felt hurt. Then he sulked.

Several evenings later he overheard a remark, “Perhaps the elders did not pick Red Kangaroo because Jerrabri knew he would kill his man and not be killed himself.”

“We know,” came a growling answer, “the elders are jealous. They will never give Red Kangaroo a chance if they can help it.”

Red Kangaroo passed on into the night, fiercely resentful.

Next day he was up on look-out duty at Ydire. At midday the warrior lads with him lit a fire and threw a porcupine and several possums on the glowing wood. They gossiped in low voices, but Red Kangaroo, sitting morosely aside, knew their voices were meant to carry to him. For a long time past he had not joined in their conversation when it affected themselves and the elders. He, who always had taken the lead in such subjects, had for long been strangely silent.

“It would have been such a wonderful vengeance party,” one murmured, “with Burradella in the lead, Red Kangaroo in the rear.”

“Nothing could have stopped their success,” broke in another. “And—they would all have returned.”

After a silence, another murmured, “Should the warrior Burradella be killed—”

“Then Red Kangaroo will lose his best and strongest friend!” broke in the first speaker.

Red Kangaroo instantly perceived the implication of these words—that the chief and elders would not care if the warrior Burradella did not return! He had never dreamed of this, that his friend and protector might be killed.

Slowly his resentment against Burradella faded. By his death Red Kangaroo would truly lose his most powerful friend, while those others who only dared speak and secretly act through Burradella would in fear remain silent. Red Kangaroo would be all alone.

Fiercely, all his resentment returned and more, this time against Jerrabri and the elders. And he was anxious now, anxious for the safety of the warrior Burradella. Not only was he now afraid to talk, but helpless to act.

The seven men of the vengeance party were still in camp, carefully seeing to their weapons, greasing their bodies with animal oils, partly against possible cold and rain but chiefly so that a foeman’s grip must slip from body and limbs. Gravely Burradella discussed plans with the others, the distances they had to travel, the time and manner of their surprise attack, and their get-away. The following dawn they had gone—stolen away in the night.