He did not fear them much; he was nearly sure they would keep to the low country—until too late, anyway. But he knew that far away behind him those waiting by the big rock in the reedy creek would soon be on his tracks.

XX

THE FIGHT

They ate ravenously. Grimly Red Kangaroo prepared to move on; tiredly the girls clung to the warmth of the fire. He rolled his few belongings in the possum rug; he could carry weapons only, ready for instant action. He rolled up their now empty dilly-bags and divided all into two light bundles, adding the filled water-bag. He fastened a bundle on each girl’s shoulders, untied their feet and tied their wrists, then picked up the gags. Nareen made as if to protest, but determinedly he shook his head and held the gag to her mouth. Reluctantly she opened it. He gagged Naroo, smiling into her sulky eyes. Picking up his weapons, he nodded towards the cave entrance. Reluctantly they crawled up and stepped outside into sunlight and birdland, with the Warrumbungles towering beside them, mists rising from bushlands and forest, from dark lines of creek timbers and open, grassy plains, with the sweet smell of early morning fresh from the bosom of the earth.

Red Kangaroo stood, a picture of the wild, his wommera outstretched towards distant mountains.

“Gunn-e-darr!” he said proudly, lovingly.

They started out, breaking into a jog-trot. No dawdling now. The time for rebellion, for guile, for pretence and sulks was past. They must obey to the limit or he would react with swift ferocity. As they trotted along, down and up gully banks, across grassy, steep hill-slopes, he was alert for game, for he dared not delay to hunt for food and this would be his main chance, before sundown, of surprising game as it emerged hungry for its early-morning meal. And his chance came as they were trotting round a rocky hilltop. A black-faced, thickset old wallaroo sat back in surprise, his whitish chest a target as he bent forward, then bounded aside, stretching convulsively in mid air as the spear caught him through the ribs. Red Kangaroo leapt forward and clubbed the writhing, clawing, hissing thing. The nuggetty, strong-pawed wallaroo can put up a good fight for life.

With tomahawk and stone knife he quickly severed the thick, heavy tail and the meat from the hindquarters. With a satisfied grin he divided the meat upon the loads of Nareen and Naroo.

“Now we shall eat at midday after all,” he said with pleased relief, “and of rich red meat. We’ll eat tonight, too. So hurry along, knowing that when you’re tired we’ll fill our bellies with the meat that helps make warriors.”

Nareen shot him a twisted smile; she would have said something impudent but for the gag. Obediently the girls started off at the jog-trot again, their bare feet noiseless over the grass, the rocks, the gravel of a creek-bed. Sure as the wallaby, graceful as the Spirit of the Wild, leaping lightly on to a big old log and barely touching the ground on the other side, gliding between close-growing saplings, they carried on for mile after mile.