The foothills soon brought him right up into the big old Warrumbungles, from the heights of which again and again he spied away out over the low country the rolling smoke of hunting fires or the lazy wisps from cooking fires of numerous small, well-scattered camps of the Coonabarabran tribe. It gave him a thrill every time he gazed out over the bush to see such smoke and easily guess what his enemies away out there were doing—hunting or lazing along on walkabout, or “bush cooking” a mid-sun meal, or smoking out game, or gathered together in a large, favourite camp. He wondered at how numerous these Coonabarabran people must be. As he travelled farther along the range he observed that the large camps were many miles apart, with small hunting camps in between, while every here and there strolled a small or a family party who hunted by day and by night camped almost within the foothills.

Yes, he slept with one eye open by day, and at night he had eyes in the back of his head. And ears and every sense were alert for the dreaded sound or sign of tribesmen dogging his tracks—tracks he made so difficult to follow. On the third day he grew grimly confident. He was far up in the mountains, gazing down to where smooth, lightly timbered slopes led away down to the low country. And he saw that in this part of the range, at least in daylight, he would see a man coming up the clear mountain slopes long before he could reach him.

He gazed back over the way he had come, towards the misty landmarks of his own beloved country. And he knew that now, should his presence be discerned, he could make back swiftly and straight as the crow could fly for his own tribal sanctuary. He grew almost confident that, even though the enemy might be all around him he would slip through and be away, even though they came loping along his tracks. That was, if he were not burdened—with the burden he sought. Ah, then discovery would mean peril indeed!

Thus he carried on, alert against enemies—swift, too, in the hunt. For he must eat, and sleep by day to keep endurance and strength. The cooking was simple; he could hide the smoke of a fire within a cave. He learnt that here and there within the belly of these big old mountains was a cave, the size of which both frightened and amazed him. Within the yawning mouth of one such, as he stared back into its mysterious darkness, he wondered if it might not be large enough to shelter every man, woman, and child of the Gunn-e-darr tribe—even more.

At sundown he would begin to come down a mountain spur, walking swiftly as evening darkness set in. When his friend the young moon rose to shed its soft light over the bush he would be well out in the low country, cautiously scouting round one of the camps he had noticed by day. While the moon lasted he would spy upon the sleeping camp, taking care to leave no tracks, taking particular care to keep well aside from patches of country where the women would be likely to hunt—he dared not leave the faintest of tracks there.