The days slowly passed and with all his prowling he had not yet succeeded in his task. His presence somewhere in this enemy’s territory simply must be discovered, even by chance, at any time now.

One night he was creeping down river in the dark, for the moon would not rise now until very late. He was keen to spy upon a new camp that by day he had located from the hills, and, above all, to find a place in which to hide throughout the next day. The night was chilly and eerily still, the solemn croak of a mopoke came hoarsely from a river gum. Presently the dense tall reeds of a large creek that emptied into the river barred his way. He stood there black as the night, his eyes staring appreciatively at the darkness of the heavily foliaged creek where it merged back into the bush. He waded down into the creek and up along it some little distance, delighted at the thickness and height of the reeds, for they stood his own height, six feet and over. This would be an ideal hiding-place. No chance of his being seen within this forest of reeds. And as he had waded he had left no tracks that a hunting party might cut by chance. He decided to wade down river farther now in the hope of hearing song or corroboree from some distant camp.

He turned back towards the creek mouth and a whir of nesting ducks rose at his knees, dashing him with spray and swishing reeds. He stepped out of the reeds and stood staring. Barely a quarter of a mile down river gleamed the fires of a large camp. And now there came sweetly drifting along river the click of kylies, the drumming of the women, the chanting lilt of a hunting song.

In delight he began to wade down river. He would spy their numbers by the light of the corroboree fires, then return to the reedy creek before daylight, leaving no betraying tracks. From the creek he could spy all movement of this camp in daylight. The moon was rising now, by its growing light he saw that this reedy creek indeed was an ideal hiding-place and that its reeds and bullrushes extended far back into the bush. He began wading down river, a shadow in moonlight, drifting ever nearer those gleaming fires that now plainly illumined the figures of dancing men. Presently he could see the women as they squatted there, drumming their thighs while chanting the song, could hear and see numerous children.

Next morning after daylight he watched from the reeds as the first smokes began lazily coiling up from the camp. But it was full daylight before the camp was really astir. He judged it to be a temporary camp recently formed, for the gunyahs were thrown up carelessly, while the fires showed only small heaps of ashes. Presently eight warriors in pairs picked up their hunting weapons and waded across the river, bound for a day’s kangaroo hunt. He could also see two able-bodied warriors who were apparently remaining as camp guard, but—and this made him rather uneasy—could see no older men. The lubras were yabbering some tasty gossip, but presently a shrill-voiced old woman spurred them into action. The young women picked up their dilly-bags and laughingly came riverwards, raced there by whooping children. Some women remained in camp, but about thirty, with numerous children, came wading through the shallows upstream. Red Kangaroo watched gleefully until suddenly he thought, “What if they are making for this reedy creek? It is alive with nesting ducks!”