They set out along the foothills parallel with the big old range, Red Kangaroo’s heart singing as he pointed with his wommera away out towards his own country.

“Home!” he growled. “And hasten!”

Travelling swiftly, they had less chance to leave a heavy imprint on softer ground, snap a dead twig, or kick over a pebble here and there.

“You will only stub your toes,” he snarled at Naroo as swiftly she tried to overturn a stone in passing, “and if you break your toe I shall thrash you and hurry you all the more. Try that trick just once again and I’ll clout you across the head with this nulla—you can make yourself sore all over if you want to!” Savagely then he jabbed Nareen in the buttock with his spear point. She leapt ahead with arched back and a startled gurgle. He laughed maliciously.

“A jab like that for every leaf you drop from that bush you’re hiding in your hands. I’ll jab your tail so full of holes you won’t be able to sit down for a full moon!”

Nareen, her teeth clenching into the gag, dropped the bush and stepped out like a cat on hot bricks. In spite of her tied hands she had surreptitiously snapped off the top of a densely leafed bush, hoping to pinch off the tiny leaves and drop them one by one, leaving a trail that eagle-eyed pursuers could follow almost at the run.

Long shadows from the mountains brought the coolness of evening. Red Kangaroo urged them on until the darkness slowed them down. This rough country was intersected by scrubby creeks and steep gullies, and there was danger now that the girls, handicapped by tied hands, might stumble over a fallen log or slip down a rocky slope and break a leg. This possibility terrified the girls, for each knew that with a broken leg she would be abandoned to the bush and the night. From away up on the range floated the blood-curdling howl of a dingo.

“Watch your step,” warned Red Kangaroo, “but if you want to break a leg or stake yourself, then do so. After all, one girl would do me, and remember, I can travel faster and more easily and safely with one than with two. No dawdling! Ah!”

They turned at his exclamation, anxious eyes gleaming.

From far behind them, but away out on the low country, rose a quivering pencil of fire above the tree-tops, climbing swiftly, a crimson finger apparently piercing the sky.

“So your friends have only just found our tracks,” he said grimly, “your old waterhens at the big rock away back in the reedy creek—where you two naughty girls slipped away from the old women to find your duck-eggs and—me.” He grinned. “I was quite jealous as I followed you up, for I thought you were hurrying to meet young men. But it was only I whom you met, and now your friends wish to meet me, too—your fathers and uncles and brothers and all the young warriors so anxious to cut out my kidney-fat to prove what great warriors they are.” Grimly he watched the hope shining in their eyes, limpid black eyes, deep with life. “You would like to see them,” he said softly, “bash me to the earth, rip out my kidneys with those sharp stone knives of theirs, snarl over the rich red kidneys and wolf them and rub the fat into their bodies to imbibe my strength and cunning. How brave they will be then—when they have eaten my bravery!”