XVII

WOMAN AND THE CLUB

Cautiously he peered out over the reeds down river towards the camp. A few old women were moving about, the two warriors were now sprawled under a shady tree. No sign of any of the hunters. Obviously these people did not dream of danger.

He crouched low as with a gentle splashing of feet and a rustle of reed tops the two girls waded past, an impish smile on each fresh young face. They kept wading on up the creek; he followed noiselessly, in a trembling delight. Presently he frowned, for not once did they stop to tread the bottom in search of mussel shells.

“This looks as if they are going to meet someone waiting for them in the reeds—two young men?” he thought to himself. His sinewy hand gripped his war wommera. There would be sudden, sharp trouble for two young men should his suspicion prove correct.

The girls hurried on up the creek without a word, then waded to a bank and climbed up, peering out among the tree-trunks. Then came peals of laughter and an exultant cry.

“They haven’t even missed us yet! There they go, waddling up river like old tortoises! What a yabber there’ll be when they find we’ve gone!”

“Old Waterhen will screech her teeth out,” said the other girl, laughing, “and we’ll hear that old crane Bobadilla cackling miles away.”

Red Kangaroo, standing in the reeds with his head almost on a level with their heels, grinned up at the two shapely young bodies so tantalizingly close, their velvety, chocolate-brown skin so cool-looking in the shade of the creek. One had a mop of wavy hair, the other’s was straight. He could barely resist the temptation to thrust up his arms, grip those smooth ankles, and jerk both girls into the water at his feet.

He dared not. Should he miss, should one snatch at a branch just long enough for her to scream, it would bring the whole pack down upon him. The creek just here must be close to a bend in the river, for the girls could obviously see the women and children still wading up river, and a scream would be heard. If there had been only one he would have snatched her down with delight. But two agile young bodies, slippery as eels—!

“Don’t the old waterhens look funny when they bend?” giggled the girl with the wavy hair.

“Just look at old Wulla,” said the other, “groping down for that mussel! She looks like a skinny old crane burying its head in the mud with all its tail feathers fallen out.”

“Look at old Nundal grabbing for a yabby!” said her friend. “She’s ribbed like a poor goanna in drought time.”

Red Kangaroo, staring up, could barely hold his laughter. Certainly the well-formed ribs and plump flesh of the two innocents just above his hungry eyes left nothing to be desired.

“What if we go up to the big rock where we caught so many fish last time we slipped away?” suggested one.