AUSTRALIAN
Legendary Tales
FOLK-LORE OF THE NOONGAHBURRAHS
AS TOLD TO THE PICCANINNIES
COLLECTED BY
MRS. K. LANGLOH PARKER
WITH INTRODUCTON BY
ANDREW LANG, M.A.
ILLUSTRATIONS BY A NATIVE ARTIST, AND A SPECIMEN
OF THE NATIVE TEXT
SECOND EDITION
LONDON
DAVID NUTT, 270-271, STRAND
MELBOURNE
MELVILLE, MULLEN & SLADE
1897
[All Rights Reserved]
Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.
At the Ballantyne Press
DEDICATED
TO
PETER HIPPI
KING OF THE NOONGAHBURRAHS
Contents
PREFACE ix
INTRODUCTION, BY ANDREW LANG, M.A. xiii
DINEWAN THE EMU, AND GOOMBLEGUBBON THE BUSTARD 1
THE GALAH, AND OOLAH THE LIZARD 6
BAHLOO THE MOON, AND THE DAENS 8
THE ORIGIN OF THE NARRAN LAKE 11
GOOLOO THE MAGPIE, AND THE WAHROOGAH 15
THE WEEOOMBEENS AND THE PIGGIEBILLAH 19
BOOTOOLGAH THE CRANE AND GOONUR THE KANGAROO RAT, THE FIRE MAKERS 24
WEEDAH THE MOCKING BIRD 30
THE GWINERBOOS THE REDBREASTS 35
MEAMEI THE SEVEN SISTERS 40
THE COOKOOBURRAHS AND THE GOOLAHGOOL 47
THE MAYAMAH 50
THE BUNBUNDOOLOOEYS 52
OONGNAIRWAH AND GUINAREY 55
NARAHDARN THE BAT 57
MULLYANGAH THE MORNING STAR 62
GOOMBLEGUBBON, BEEARGAII, AND OUYAN 65
MOOREGOO THE MOPOKE, AND BAHLOO THE MOON 68
OUYAN THE CURLEW 70
DINEWAN THE EMU, AND WAHN THE CROWS 73
GOOLAHWILLEEL THE TOPKNOT PIGEONS 75
GOONUR, THE WOMAN-DOCTOR 77
DEEREEREE THE WAGTAIL, AND THE RAINBOW 83
MOOREGOO THE MOPOKE, AND MOONINGUGGAHGUL THE MOSQUITO BIRD 86
BOUGOODOOGAHDAH THE RAIN BIRD 90
THE BORAH OF BYAMEE 94
BUNNYYARL THE FLIES AND WURRUNNUNNAH THE BEES 106
DEEGEENBOYAH THE SOLDIER-BIRD 108
MAYRAH, THE WIND THAT BLOWS THE WINTER AWAY 115
WAYAMBEH THE TURTLE 117
WIRREENUN THE RAINMAKER 120
NATIVE TEXT OF THE FIRST TALE (APPENDIX) 126
GLOSSARY 129
Preface
A NEIGHBOR of mine exclaimed, when I mentioned that I proposed making a
small collection of the folk-lorc legends of the tribe of blacks I knew so
well living on this station, "But have the blacks any legends?"-thus showing
that people may live in a country and yet know little of the aboriginal
inhabitants; and though there are probably many who do know these particular
legends, yet I think that this is the first attempt that has been made to
collect the tales of any particular tribe, and publish them alone. At all
events, I know that no attempt has been made previously, as far as the
folklore of the Noongahburrahs is concerned. Therefore, on the authority of
Professor Max Müller, that folk-lore of any country is worth collecting, I
am emboldened to offer my small attempt, at a collection, to the public.
There are probably many who, knowing these legends, would not think them
worth recording; but, on the other hand, I hope there are many who think, as
I do, that we should try, while there is yet time, to gather all the
information possible of a race fast dying out, and the origin of which is so
obscure. I cannot affect to think that these little legends will do much to
remove that obscurity, but undoubtedly a scientific and patient study of the
folk-lore throughout Australia would greatly assist thereto. I, alas! am but
an amateur, moved to my work by interest in the subject, and in the blacks,
of whom I have had some experience.
The time is coming when it will be impossible to make even such a collection
as this, for the old blacks are quickly dying out, and the young ones will
probably think it beneath the dignity of their so-called civilisation even
to remember such old-women's stories. Those who have themselves attempted
the study of an unknown folk-lore will be able to appreciate the
difficulties a student has to surmount before he can even induce those to
talk who have the knowledge he desires. In this, as in so much else, those
who are ready to be garrulous know little.
I have confined this little book to the legends of the Narran tribe, known
among themselves as Noongahburrahs. It is astonishing to find, within
comparatively short distances, a diversity of language and custom. You may
even find the same word in different tribes bearing a totally different
meaning. Many words, too, have been introduced which the blacks think are
English, and the English think are native. Such, for example, as piccaninny,
and, as far as these outside blacks are concerned, boomerang is regarded as
English, their local word being burren; yet nine out of ten people whom you
meet think both are local native words.
Though I have written my little book in the interests of folk-lore, I hope
it will gain the attention of, and have some interest for, children-of
Australian children, because they will find stories of old friends among the
Bush birds; and of English children, because I hope that they will be glad
to make new friends, and so establish a free trade between the Australian
and English nurseries--wingless, and laughing birds, in exchange for fairy
godmothers, and princes in disguise.
I must also acknowledge my great indebtedness to the blacks, who, when once
they understood what I wanted to know, were most ready to repeat to me the
legends repeating with the utmost patience, time after time, not only the
legends, but the names, that I might manage to spell them so as to be
understood when repeated. In particular I should like to mention my
indebtedness to Peter Hippi, king of the Noongahburrahs; and to Hippitha,
Mätah, Barahgurrie, and Beemunny.
I have dedicated my booklet to Peter Hippi, in grateful recognition of his
long and faithful service to myself and my husband, which has extended, with
few intervals, over a period of twenty years. He, too, is probably the last
king of the Noongabburrahs, who are fast dying out-, and soon their weapons,
bartered by them for tobacco or whisky, alone will prove that they ever
existed. It seemed to me a pity that some attempt should not be made to
collect the folk-lore of the quickly disappearing tribe-a folk-lore
embodying, probably, the thoughts, fancies, and beliefs of the genuine
aboriginal race, and which, as such, deserves to be, indeed, as Max Müller
says, "might be and ought to be, collected in every part of the world."
The legends were told to me by the blacks themselves, some of whom remember
the coming of Mitchellän, as they call Major Mitchell, the explorer of these
back creeks. The old blacks laugh now when they tell you how frightened
their mothers were of the first wheel tracks they saw. They would not let
the children tread on them, but carefully lifted them over, lest their feet
should break out in sores, as they were supposed to do if they trod on a
snake's track. But with all their fear, little did they realise that the
coming of Mitchellän was the beginning of their end, or that fifty years
afterwards, from the remnant of their once numerous tribe, would be
collected the legends they told in those days to their piccaninnies round
their camp-fires, and those legends used to make a Christmas booklet for the
children of their white supplanters.
I can only hope that the white children will be as ready to listen to these
stories as were, and indeed are, the little piccaninnies, and thus the sale
of this booklet be such as to enable me to add frocks and tobacco when I
give their Christmas dinner, as is my yearly custom, to the remnant of the
Noongahburrahs.
K. LANGLOH PARKER,
BANGATE, NARRAN RIVER, NEW SOUTH WALES,
June 24th, 1895.
Introduction
AUSTRALIA makes an appeal to the fancy which is all its own. When Cortes
entered Mexico, in the most romantic moment of history, it was as if men had
found their way to a new planet, so strange, so long hidden from Europe was
all that they beheld. Still they found kings, nobles, peasants, palaces,
temples, a great organised society, fauna and flora not so very different
from what they had left behind in Spain. In Australia all was novel, and,
while seeming fresh, was inestimably old. The vegetation differs from ours;
the monotonous grey gum-trees did not resemble our varied forests, but were
antique, melancholy, featureless, like their own continent of rare hills,
infrequent streams and interminable deserts, concealing nothing within their
wastes, yet promising a secret. The birds and beasts-kangaroo, platypus,
emu-are ancient types, rough grotesques of Nature, sketching as a child
draws. The natives were a race without a history, far more antique than
Egypt, nearer the beginnings than any other people. Their weapons are the
most primitive: those of the extinct Tasmanians were actually palæolithic.
The soil holds no pottery, the cave walls no pictures drawn by men more
advanced; the sea hides no ruined palaces; no cities are buried in the
plains; there is not a trace of inscriptions or of agriculture. The burying
places contain relics of men perhaps even lower than the existing tribes;
nothing attests the presence in any age of men more cultivated. Perhaps
myriads of years have gone by since the Delta, or the lands beside Euphrates
and Tigris were as blank of human modification as was the whole Australian
continent.
The manners and rites of the natives were far the most archaic of all with
which we are acquainted. Temples they had none: no images of gods, no altars
of sacrifice; scarce any memorials of the dead. Their worship at best was
offered in hymns to some vague, half-forgotten deity or First Maker of
things, a god decrepit from age or all but careless of his children. Spirits
were known and feared, but scarcely defined or described. Sympathetic magic,
and perhaps a little hypnotism, were all their science. Kings and nations
they knew not; they were wanderers, houseless and homeless. Custom was king;
yet custom was tenacious, irresistible, and as complex in minute details as
the etiquette of Spanish kings, or the ritual of the Flamens of Rome. The
archaic intricacies and taboos of the customs and regulations of marriage
might puzzle a mathematician, and may, when unravelled, explain the less
complicated prohibitions of a totemism less antique. The people themselves
in their struggle for existence had developed great ingenuities. They had
the boomerang and the weet-weet, but not the bow; the throwing stick, but
not, of course, the sword; the message stick, but no hieroglyphs; and their
art was almost purely decorative, in geometrical patterns, not
representative. They deemed themselves akin to all nature, and called
cousins with rain and smoke, with clouds and sky, as well as with beasts and
trees. They were adroit hunters, skilled trackers, born sportsmen; they now
ride well, and, for savages, play cricket fairly. But, being invaded by the
practical emigrant or the careless convict, the natives were not studied
when in their prime, and science began to examine them almost too late. We
have the works of Sir George Grey, the too brief pamphlet of Mr. Gideon
Lang, the more learned labours of Messrs. Fison and Howitt, and the
collections of Mr. Brough Smyth. The mysteries (Bora) of the natives, the
initiatory rites, a little of the magic, a great deal of the social customs
are known to us, and we have fragments of the myths. But, till Mrs. Langloh
Parker wrote this book, we had but few of the stories which Australian
natives tell by the camp-fire or in the gum-tree shade.
These, for the most part, are Kinder Märchen, though they include many
ætiological myths, explanatory of the markings and habits of animals, the
origin of constellations, and so forth. They are a savage edition of the
Metamorphoses, and few unbiased students now doubt that the Metamorphoses
are a very late and very artificial version of traditional tales as savage
in origin as those of the Noongahburrah. I have read Mrs. Parker's
collection with very great interest, with "human pleasure," merely for the
story's sake. Children will find here the Jungle Book, never before printed,
of black little boys and girls. The sympathy.with, and knowledge of beast-
life and bird-life are worthy of Mr. Kipling, and the grotesque names are
just what children like. Dinewan and Goomblegubbon should take their place
with Rikki Tikki and Mr. Kipling's other delightful creatures. But there is
here no Mowgli, set apart in the jungle as a man. Man, bird, and beast are
all blended in the Australian fancy as in that of Bushmen and Red Indians.
All are of one kindred, all shade into each other; all obey the Bush Law as
they obey the Jungle Law in Mr. Kipling's fascinating stories. This
confusion, of course, is not peculiar to Australian Märchen; it is the
prevalent feature of our own popular tales. But the Australians "do it more
natural:" the stories are not the heritage of a traditional and dead, but
the flowers of a living and actual condition of the mind. The stories have
not the ingenious dramatic turns of our own Märchen. Where there are no
distinctions of wealth and rank, there can be no Cinderella and no Puss in
Boots. Many stories are rude ætiological myths; they explain the habits and
characteristics of the birds and beasts, and account in a familiar way for
the origin of death ("Bahloo, the Moon, and the Daens"). The origin of fire
is also accounted for in what may almost be called a scientific way. Once
discovered, it is, of course, stolen from the original proprietors. A savage
cannot believe that the first owners of fire would give the secret away. The
inventors of the myth of Prometheus were of the same mind.
On the whole the stories, perhaps, most resemble those from the Zulu in
character, though these represent a much higher grade of civilisation. The
struggle for food and water, desperately absorbing, is the perpetual theme,
and no wonder, for the narrators dwell in a dry and thirsty land, and till
not, nor sow, nor keep any domestic animals. We see the cunning of the
savage in the devices for hunting, especially for chasing honey bees. The
Rain-magic, actually practised, is of curious interest. In brief, we have
pictures of savage life by savages, romances which are truly realistic. We
understand that condition which Dr. Johnson did not think happy-the state
from which we came, and to which we shall probably return. "Equality,"
"Liberty", "Community of Goods," all mean savagery, and even savages, if
equal, are not really free. Custom is the tyrant.
The designs are from the sketch-book of an untaught Australian native; they
were given to me some years ago by my brother, Dr. Lang, of Corowa. The
artist has a good deal of spirit in his hunting scenes; his trees are not
ill done, his emus and kangaroos are better than his men and labras. Using
ink, a pointed stick, and paper, the artist shows an unwonted freedom of
execution. Nothing like this occurs in Australian scratches with a sharp
stone on hard wood. Probably no other member of his dying race ever
illustrated a book.
ANDREW LANG.
Dinewan the Emu, and Goomblegubbon the Bustard
DINEWAN the emu, being the largest bird, was acknowledged as king bythe
other birds. The Goomblegubbons, the bustards, were jealous of the Dinewans.
Particularly was Goomblegubbon, the mother, jealous of the Diriewan mother.
She would watch with envy the high flight of the Dinewans, and their swift
running. And she always fancied that the Dinewan mother flaunted her
superiority in her face, for whenever Dinewan alighted near Goomblegubbon,
after a long, high flight, she would flap her big wings and begin booing in
her pride, not the loud booing of the male bird, but a little, triumphant,
satisfied booing noise of her own, which never failed to irritate
Goomblegubbon when she heard it.
Goomblegubbon used to wonder how she could put an end to Dinewan's
supremacy. She decided that she would only be able to do so by injuring her
wings and checking her power of flight. But the question that troubled her
was how to effect this end. She kn ew she would gain nothing by having a
quarrel with Dinewan and fighting her, for no Goomblegubbon would stand any
chance against a Dinewan, There was evidently nothing to be gained by an
open fight. She would have to effect her end by cunning.
One day, when Goomblegubbon saw in the distance Dinewan coming towards her,
she squatted down and doubled in her wings in such a way as to look as if
she had none. After Dinewan had been talking to her for some time,
Goomblegubbon said: "Why do you not imitate me and do without wings? Every
bird flies. The Dinewans, to be the king of birds, should do without wings.
When all the birds see that I can do without wings, they will think I am the
cleverest bird and they will make a Goomblegubbon king."
"But you have wings," said Dinewan.
"No, I have no wings." And indeed she looked as if her words were true, so
well were her wings hidden, as she squatted in the grass. Dinewan went away
after awhile, and thought much of what she had heard. She talked it all over
with her mate, who was as disturbed as she was. They made up their minds
that it would never do to let the Goomblegubbons reign in their stead, even
if they had to lose their wings to save their kingship.
At length they decided on the sacrifice of their wings. The Dinewan mother
showed the example by persuading her mate to cut off hers with a combo or
stone tomahawk, and then she did the same to his. As soon as the operations
were over, the Dinewan mother lost no time in letting Goomblegubbon know
what they had done. She ran swiftly down to the plain on which she had left
Goomblegubbon, and, finding her still squatting there, she said: "See, I
have followed your example. I have now no wings. They are cut off."
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Goomblegubbon, jumping up and dancing round with joy
at the success of her plot. As she danced round, she spread out her wings,
flapped them, and said: "I have taken you in, old stumpy wings. I have my
wings yet. You are fine birds, you Dinewans, to be chosen kings, when you
are so easily taken in. Ha! ha! ha!" And, laughing derisively, Goomblegubbon
flapped her wings right in front of Dinewan, who rushed towards her to
chastise her treachery. But Goomblegubbon flew away, and, alas! the now
wingless Dinewan could not follow her.
Brooding over her wrongs, Dinewan walked away, vowing she would be revenged.
But how? That was the question which she and her mate failed to answer for
some time. At length the Dinewan mother thought of a plan and prepared at
once to execute it. She hid all her young Dinewans but two, under a big salt
bush. Then she walked off to Goomblegubbons' plain with the two young ones
following her. As she walked off the morilla ridge, where her home was, on
to the plain, she saw Goomblegubbon out feeding with her twelve young ones.
After exchanging a few remarks in a friendly manner with Goomblegubbon, she
said to her, "Why do you not imitate me and only have two children? Twelve
are too many to feed. If you keep so many they will never grow big birds
like the Dinewans. The food that would make big birds of two would only
starve twelve." Goomblegubbon said nothing, but she thought it might be so.
It was impossible to deny that the young Dinewans were much bigger than the
young Goomblegubbons, and, discontentedly, Goomblegubbon walked away,
wondering whether the smallness of her young ones was owing to the number of
them being so much greater than that of the Dinewans. It would be grand, she
thought, to grow as big as the Dinewans. But she remembered the trick she
had played on Dinewan, and she thought that perhaps she was being fooled in
her turn. She looked back to where the Dinewans fed, and as she saw how much
bigger the two young ones were than any of hers, once more mad envy of
Dinewan possessed her. She determined she would not be outdone. Rather would
she kill all her young ones but two. She said, "The Dinewans shall not be
the king birds of the plains. The Goomblegubbons shall replace them. They
shall grow as big as the Dinewans, and shall keep their wings and fly, which
now the Dinewans cannot do." And straightway Goomblegubbon killed all her
young ones but two. Then back she came to where the Dinewans were still
feeding. When Dinewan saw her coming and noticed she had only two young ones
with her, she called out: "Where are all your young ones?"
Goomblegubbon answered, "I have killed them, and have only two left. Those
will have plenty to eat now, and will soon grow as big as your young ones."
"You cruel mother to kill your children. You greedy mother. Why, I have
twelve children and I find food for them all. I would not kill one for
anything, not even if by so doing I could get back my wings. There is plenty
for all. Look at the emu bush how it covers itself with berries to feed my
big family. See how the grasshoppers come hopping round, so that we can
catch them and fatten on them."
"But you have only two children."
"I have twelve. I will go and bring them to show you." Dinewan ran off to
her salt bush where she had hidden her ten young ones. Soon she was to be
seen coming back. Running with her neck stretched forward, her head thrown
back with pride, and the feathers of her boobootella swinging as she ran,
booming out the while her queer throat noise, the Dinewan song of joy, the
pretty, soft-looking little ones with their zebra-striped skins, running
beside her whistling their baby Dinewan note. When Dinewan reached the place
where Goomblegubbon was, she stopped her booing and said in a solemn tone,
"Now you see my words are true, I have twelve young ones, as I said. You can
gaze at my loved ones and think of your poor murdered children. And while
you do so I will tell you the fate of your descendants for ever. By trickery
and deceit you lost the Dinewans their wings, and now for evermore, as long
as a Dinewan has no wings, so long shall a Goomblegubbon lay only two eggs
and have only two young ones. We are quits now. You have your wings and I my
children."
And ever since that time a Dinewan, or emu, has had no wings, and a
Goomblegubbon, or bustard of the plains, has laid only two eggs in a season.
The Galah, and Oolah the Lizard
OOLAH the lizard was tired of lying in the sun, doing nothing. So he said,
"I will go and play." He took his boomerangs out, and began to practise
throwing them. While he was doing so a Galah came up, and stood near,
watching the boomerangs come flying back, for the kind of boomerangs Oolah
was throwing were the bubberahs. They are smaller than others, and more
curved, and when they are properly thrown they return to the thrower, which
other boomerangs do not.
Oolah was proud of having the gay Galah to watch his skill. In his pride he
gave the bubberah an extra twist, and threw it with all his might. Whizz,
whizzing through the air, back it came, hitting, as it passed her, the Galah
on the top of her head, taking both feathers and skin clean off. The Galah
set up a hideous, cawing, croaking shriek, and flew about, stopping every
few minutes to knock her head on the ground like a mad bird. Oolah was so
frightened when he saw what he had done, and noticed that the blood was
flowing from the Galah's head, that he glided away to hide under a bindeah
bush. But the Galah saw him. She never stopped the hideous noise she was
making for a minute, but, still shrieking, followed Oolah. When she reached
the bindeah bush she rushed at Oolah, seized him with her beak, rolled him
on the bush until every bindeah had made a hole in his skin. Then she rubbed
his skin with her own bleeding head. "Now then," she said, "you Oolah shall
carry bindeahs on you always, and the stain of my blood."
"And you," said Oolah, as he hissed with pain from the tingling of the
prickles, "shall be a bald-headed bird as long as I am a red prickly
lizard."
So to this day, underneath the Galah's crest you can always find the bald
patch which the bubberah of Oolah first made. And in the country of the
Galahs are lizards coloured reddish brown, and covered with spikes like
bindeah prickles.
Bahloo the Moon and the Daens
BAHLOO the moon looked down at the earth one night, when his light was
shining quite brightly, to see if any one was moving. When the earth people
were all asleep was the time he chose for playing with his three dogs. He
called them dogs, but the earth people called them snakes, the death adder,
the black snake, and the tiger snake. As he looked down on to the earth,
with his three dogs beside him, Bahloo saw about a dozen daens, or black
fellows, crossing a Creek. He called to them saying, "Stop, I want you to
carry my dogs across that creek." But the black fellows, though they liked
Bahloo well, did not like his dogs, for sometimes when he had brought these
dogs to play on the earth, they had bitten not only the earth dogs but their
masters; and the poison left by the bites had killed those bitten. So the
black fellows said, "No, Bahloo, we are too frightened; your dogs might bite
us. They are not like our dogs, whose bite would not kill us."
Bahloo said, "If you do what I ask you, when you die you shall come to life
again, not die and stay always where you are put when you are dead. See this
piece of bark. I throw it into the water." And he threw a piece of bark into
the creek. "See it comes to the top again and floats. That is what would
happen to you if you would do what I ask you: first under when you die, then
up again at once. If you will not take my dogs over, you foolish daens, you
will die like this," and he threw a stone into the creek, which sank to the
bottom. "You will be like that stone, never rise again, Wombah daens!"
But the black fellows said, "We cannot do it, Bahloo. We are too frightened
of your dogs."
"I will come down and carry them over myself to show you that they are quite
safe and harmless." And down he came, the black snake coiled round one arm,
the tiger snake round the other, and the death adder on his shoulder, coiled
towards his neck. He carried them over. When he had crossed the creek he
picked up a big stone, and he threw it into the water, saying, "Now, you
cowardly daens, you would not do what I, Bahloo, asked you to do, and so
forever you have lost the chance of rising again after you die. You will
just stay where you are put, like that stone does under the water, and grow,
as it does, to be part of the earth. If you had done what I asked you, you
could have died as often as I die, and have come to life as often as I come
to life. But now you will only be black fellows while you live, and bones
when you are dead."
Bahloo looked so cross, and the three snakes hissed so fiercely, that the
black fellows were very glad to see them disappear from their sight behind
the trees. The black fellows had always been frightened of Bahloo's dogs,
and now they hated them, and they said, "If we could get them away from
Bahloo we would kill tbem." And thenceforth, whenever they saw a snake alone
they killed it. But Babloo only sent more, for he said, "As long as there
are black fellows there sball be snakes to remind them that they would not
do what I asked them."
The Origin of the Narran Lake
OLD BYAMEE said to his two young wives, Birrahgnooloo and Cunnunbeillee, "I
have stuck a white feather between the hind legs of a bee, and am going to
let it go and then follow it to its nest, that I may get honey. While I go
for the honey, go you two out and get frogs and yams, then meet me at
Coorigel Spring, where we will camp, for sweet and clear is the water
there." The wives, taking their goolays and yam sticks, went out as he told
them. Having gone far, and dug out many yams and frogs, they were tired when
they reached Coorigel, and, seeing the cool, fresh water, they longed to
bathe. But first they built a bough shade, and there left their goolays
holding their food, and the yams and frogs they had found. When their camp
was ready for the coming of Byamee, who having wooed his wives with a
nullah-nullah, kept them obedient by fear of the same weapon, then went the
girls to the spring to bathe. Gladly they plunged in, having first divested
them selves of their goomillahs, which they were still young enough to wear,
and which they left on the ground near the spring. Scarcely were they
enjoying the cool rest the water gave their hot, tired limbs, when they were
seized and swallowed by two kurreahs. Having swallowed the girls, the
kurreahs dived into an opening in the side of the spring, which was the
entrance to an underground watercourse leading to the Narran River. Through
this passage they went, taking all the water from the spring with them into
the Narran, whose course they also dried as they went along.
Meantime Byamee, unwitting the fate of his wives, was honey hunting. He had
followed the bee with the white feather on it for some distance; then the
bee flew on to some budtha flowers, and would move no further. Byamee said,
"Something has happened, or the bee would not stay here and refuse to be
moved on towards its nest. I must go to Coorigel Spring and see if my wives
are safe. Something terrible has surely happened." And Byamee turned in
haste towards the spring. When he reached there he.saw the bough shed his
wives had made, he saw the yams they had dug from the ground, and he saw the
frogs, but Birrahgnooloo and Cunnunbeillee he saw not. He called aloud for
them. But no answer. He went towards the spring; on the edge of it he saw
the goomillahs of his wives. He looked into the spring and, seeing it dry,
he said, "It is the work of the kurreahs; they have opened the underground
passage and gone with my wives to the river, and opening the passage has
dried the spring. Well do I know where the passage joins the Narran, and
there will I swiftly go." Arming himself with spears and woggarahs he
started in pursuit. He soon reached the deep hole where the underground
channel of the Coorigel joined the Narran. There he saw what he had never
seen before, namely, this deep hole dry. And he said: "They have emptied the
holes as they went along, taking the water with them. But well know I the
deep holes of the river. I will not follow the bend, thus trebling the
distance I have to go, but I will cut across from big hole to big hole, and
by so doing I may yet get ahead of the kurreahs." On swiftly sped Byamee,
making short cuts from big hole to big hole, and his track is still marked
by the morilla ridges that stretch down the Narran, pointing in towards the
deep holes. Every hole as he came to it he found dry, until at last he
reached the end of the Narran; the hole there was still quite wet and muddy,
then he knew he was near his enemies, and soon he saw them. He managed to
get, unseen, a little way ahead of the kurreahs. He hid himself behind a big
dheal tree. As the kurreahs came near they separated, one turning to go in
another direction. Quickly Byamee hurled one spear after another, wounding
both kurreahs, who writhed with pain and lashed their tails furiously,
making great hollows in the ground, which the water they had brought with
them quickly filled. Thinking they might again escape him, Byamee drove them
from the water with his spears, and then, at close quarters, he killed them
with his woggarahs. And ever afterwards at flood time, the Narran flowed
into this hollow which the kurreahs in their writhings had made.
When Byamee saw that the kurreahs were quite dead, he cut them open and took
out the bodies of his wives. They were covered with wet slime, and seemed
quite lifeless; but he carried them and laid them on two nests of red ants.
Then he sat down at some little distance and watched them. The ants quickly
covered the bodies, cleaned them rapidly of the wet slime, and soon Byamee
noticed the muscles of the girls twitching. "Ah," he said, there is life,
they feel the sting of the ants."
Almost as he spoke came a sound as of a thunder-clap, but the sound seemed
to come from the ears of the girls. And as the echo was dying away, slowly
the girls rose to their feet. For a moment they stood apart, a dazed
expression on their faces. Then they clung together, shaking as if stricken
with a deadly fear. But Byamee came to them and explained how they had been
rescued from the kurreahs by him. He bade them to beware of ever bathing in
the deep holes of the Narran, lest such holes be the haunt of kurreahs.
Then he bade them look at the water now at Boogira, and he said:
"Soon will the black swans find their way here, the pelicans and the ducks;
where there was dry land and stones in the past, in the future there will be
water and water-fowl, from henceforth; when the Narran runs it will run into
this hole, and by the spreading of its waters will a big lake be made." And
what Byamee said has come to pass, as the Narran Lake shows, with its large
sheet of water, spreading for miles, the home of thousands of wild fowl.
Gooloo the Magpie, and the Wahroogah
Gooloo was a very old woman, and a very wicked old woman too, as this story
will tell. During all the past season, when the grass was thick with seed,
she had gathered much doonburr, which she crushed into meal as she wanted it
for food. She used to crush it on a big flat stone with small flat stones-
the big stone was called a dayoorl. Gooloo ground a great deal of the
doonburr seed to put away for immediate use, the rest she kept whole, to be
ground as required.
Soon after she had finished her first grinding, a neighbouring tribe came
along and camped near where she was. One day the men all went out hunting,
leaving the women and the children in the camp. After the men had been gone
a little while, Gooloo the magpie came to their camp to talk to the women.
She said, "Why do you not go hunting too? Many are the nests of the
wurranunnahs round here, and thick is the honey in them. Many and ripe are
the bumbles hanging now on the humble trees; red is the fruit of the
grooees, and opening with ripeness the fruit of the guiebets. Yet you sit in
the camp and hunger, until your husbands return with the dinewan and bowrah
they have gone forth to slay. Go, women, and gather of the plenty that
surrounds you. I will take care of your children, the little Wahroogabs."
"Your words are wise," the women said. "It is foolish to sit here and
hunger, when near at hand yams are thick in the ground, and many fruits wait
but the plucking. We will go and fill quickly our comebees and goolays, but
our children we will take with us."
"Not so," said Gooloo, "foolish indeed were you to do that. You would tire
the little feet of those that run, and tire yourselves with the burden of
those that have to be carried. No, take forth your comebees and goolays
empty, that ye may bring back the more. Many are the spoils that wait only
the hand of the gatherer. Look ye, I have a durrie made of fresh doonburr
seed, cooking just now on that bark between two fires; that shall your
children eat, and swiftly shall I make them another. They shall eat and be
full ere their mothers are out of sight. See, they come to me now, they
hunger for durrie, and well will I feed them. Haste ye then, that ye may
return in time to make ready the fires for cooking the meat your husbands
will bring. Glad will your husbands be when they see that ye have filled
your goolays and comebees with fruits, and your wirrees with honey. Haste
ye, I say, and do well."
Having listened to the words of Gooloo, the women decided to do as she said,
and, leaving their children with her, they started forth with empty
comebees, and armed with combos, with which to chop out the bees' nests and
opossums, and with yam sticks to dig up yams.
When the women had gone, Gooloo gathered the children round her and fed them
with durrie, hot from the coals. Honey, too, she gave them, and bumbles
which she had buried to ripen. When they had eaten, she hurried them off to
her real home, built in a hollow tree, a little distance away from where she
had been cooking her durrie. Into her house she hurriedly thrust them,
followed quickly herself, and made all secure. Here she fed them again, but
the children had already satisfied their hunger, and now they missed their
mothers and began to cry. Their crying reached the ears of the women as they
were returning to their camp. Quickly they came at the sound which is not
good in a mother's ears. As they quickened their steps they thought how soon
the spoils that lay heavy in their comebees would comfort their children.
And happy they, the mothers, would feel when they fed the Wahroogahs with
the dainties they had gathered for them. Soon they reached the camp, but,
alas! where were their children? And where was Gooloo the magpie?
"They are playing wahgoo," they said, "and have hidden themselves."
The mothers hunted all round for them, and called aloud the names of their
children and Gooloo. But no answer could they hear and no trace could they
find. And yet every now and then they heard the sound of children wailing.
But seek as they would they found them not. Then loudly wailed the mothers
themselves for their lost Wahroogahs, and, wailing, returned to the camp to
wait the coming of the black fellows. Heavy were their hearts, and sad were
their faces when their husbands returned. They hastened to tell the black
fellows when they came, how Gooloo had persuaded them to go hunting,
promising if they did so that she would feed the hungry Wahroogahs, and care
for them while they were away, but-and here they wailed again for their poor
Wahroogahs. They told how they had listened to her words and gone; truth had
she told of the plenty round, their comebees and goolays were full of fruits
and spoils they had gathered, but, alas! they came home with them laden only
to find their children gone and Gooloo gone too. And no trace could they
find of either, though at times they heard a sound as of children wailing.
Then wroth were the men, saying: "What mothers are ye to leave your young to
a stranger, and that stranger a Gooloo, ever a treacherous race? Did we not
go forth to gain food for you and our children? Saw ye ever your husbands
return from the chase empty handed? Then why, when ye knew we were gone
hunting, must ye too go forth and leave our helpless ones to a stranger? Oh,
evil, evil indeed is the time that has come when a mother forgets her child.
Stay ye in the camp while we go forth to hunt for our lost Wahroogahs. Heavy
will be our hands on the women if we return without them."
The men hunted the bush round for miles, but found no trace of the lost
Wahroogahs, though they too heard at times a noise as of children's voices
wailing.
But beyond the wailing which echoed in the mothers' ears for ever, no trace
was found of the children. For many days the women sat in the camp mourning
for their lost Wahroogahs, and beating their heads because they had listened
to the voice of Gooloo.
The Weeoonibeens and the Piggiebillah
Two Weeoombeen brothers went out hunting. One brother was much younger than
the other and smaller, so when they sighted an emu, the elder one said to
the younger: "You stay quietly here and do not make a noise, or
Piggiebillah, whose camp we passed just now, will hear you and steal the emu
if I kill it. He is so strong. I'll go on and try to kill the emu with this
stone." The little Weeoombeen watched his big brother sneak up to the emu,
crawling along, almost flat, on the ground. He saw him get quite close to
the emu, then spring up quickly and throw the stone with such an accurate
aim as to kill the bird on the spot. The little brother was so rejoiced that
he forgot his brother's caution, and he called aloud in his joy. The big
Weeoombeen looked round and gave him a warning sign, but too late,
Piggiebillah had heard the cry and was hastening towards them. Quickly big
Weeoombeen left the emu and joined his little brother.
Piggiebillah, when he came up, said: "What have you found?"
"Nothing," said the big Weeoombeen, "nothing but some mistletoe berries."
"It must have been something more than that, or your little brother would
not have called out so loudly."
Little Weeoombeen was so afraid that Piggiebillah would find their emu and
take it, that he said: "I hit a little bird with a stone, and I was glad I
could throw so straight."
"It was no cry for the killing of a little bird or for the finding of
mistletoe berries that I heard. It was for something much more than either,
or you would not have called out so joyfully. If you do not tell me at once
I will kill you both."
The Weeoombeen brothers were frightened, for Piggiebillah was a great
fighter and very strong, so when they saw he was really angry, they showed
him the dead emu.
"Just what I want for my supper," he said, and so saying, dragged it away to
his own camp. The Weeoombeens followed him and even helped him to make a
fire to cook the emu, hoping by so doing to get a share given to them. But
Piggiebillah would not give them any; he said he must have it all for
himself.
Angry and disappointed, the Weeoombeens marched straight off and told some
black fellows who lived near, that Piggiebillah had a fine fat emu just
cooked for supper.
Up jumped the black fellows, seized their spears, bade the Weeoombeens
quickly lead them to Piggiebillah's camp, promising them for so doing a
share of the emu.
When they were within range of spear shot, the black fellows formed a
circle, took aim, and threw their spears at Piggiebillah. As the spears fell
thick on him, sticking out all over him, Piggiebillah cried aloud:
"Bingehlah, Bingeblah. You can have it, you can have it." But the black
fellows did not desist until Piggiebillah was too wounded even to cry out;
then they left him a mass of spears and turned to look for the emu. But to
their surprise they found it not. Then for the first time they missed the
Weeoombeens.
Looking round they saw their tracks going to where the emu had evidently
been; then they saw that they had dragged the emu to their nyunnoo, which
was a humpy made of grass.
When the Weeoombeens saw the black fellows coming, they caught hold of the
emu and dragged it to a big hole they knew of, with a big stone at its
entrance, which stone only they knew the secret of moving. They moved the
stone, got the emu and themselves into the hole, and the stone in place
again before the black fellows reached the place.
The black fellows tried to move the stone, but could not. Yet they knew that
the Weeoombeens must have done so, for they had tracked them right up to it,
and they could hear the sound of their voices on the other side of it. They
saw there was a crevice on either side of the stone, between it and the
ground. Through these crevices they, drove in their spears, thinking they
must surely kill the brothers. But the Weeoombeens too had seen these
crevices and had anticipated the spears, so they had placed the dead emu
before them to act as a shield. And into its body were driven the spears of
the black fellows extended for the Weeoombeens.
Having driven the spears well in, the black fellows went off to get help to
move the stone, but when they had gone a little way they heard the
Weeoombeens laughing. Back they came and speared again, and again started
for help, only as they left to hear once more the laughter of the brothers.
The Weeoombeens finding their laughter only brought back the black fellows
to a fresh attack, determined to keep quiet, which, after the next spearing,
they did.
Quite sure, when they heard their spear shots followed by neither
conversation nor laughter, that they had killed the Weeoombeens at last, the
black fellows hurried away to bring back the strength and cunning of the
camp, to remove the stone.
The Weeoombeens hurriedly discussed what plan they had better adopt to elude
the black fellows, for well they knew that should they ever meet any of them
again they would be killed without mercy. And as they talked they satisfied
their hunger by eating some of the emu flesh.
After a while the black fellows returned, and soon was the stone removed
from the entrance. Some of them crept into the hole, where, to their
surprise, they found only the remains of the emu and no trace of the
Weeoombeens. As those who had gone in first crept out and told of the
disappearance of the Weeoombeens, others, incredulous of such a story, crept
in to find it confirmed. They searched round for tracks; seeing that their
spears were all in the emu it seemed to them probable the Weeoombeens had
escaped alive, but if so, whither they had gone their tracks would show. But
search as they would no tracks could they find. All they could see were two
little birds which sat on a bush near the hole, watching the black fellows
all the time. The little birds flew round the hole sometimes, but never
away, always returning to their bush and seeming to be discussing the whole
affair; but what they said the black fellows could not understand. But as
time went on and no sign was ever found of the Weeoombeens, the black
fellows became sure that the brothers had turned into the little white-
throated birds which had sat on the bush by the hole, so, they supposed, to
escape their vengeance. And ever afterwards the little white-throats were
called Weeoombeens. And the memory of Piggiebillah is perpetuated by a sort
of porcupine ant-eater, which bears his name, and whose skin is covered
closely with miniature spears sticking all over it.
Bootoolgah the Crane and Goonur the Kangaroo Rat, the Fire Makers
IN the days when Bootoolgah, the crane, married Goonur, the kangaroo rat,
there was no fire in their country. They had to eat their food raw or just
dry it in the sun. One day when Bootoolgah was rubbing two pieces of wood
together, he saw a faint spark sent forth and then a slight smoke. "Look,"
he said to Goonur, "see what comes when I rub these pieces of wood together-
smoke! Would it not be good if we could make fire for ourselves with which
to cook our food, so as not to have to wait for the sun to dry it?"
Goonur looked, and, seeing the smoke, she said: "Great indeed would be the
day when we could make fire. Split your stick, Bootoolgah, and place in the
opening bark and grass that even one spark may kindle a light." And hearing
wisdom in her words, even as she said Bootoolgah did. And lol after much
rubbing, from the opening came a small flame. For as Goonur had said it
would, the spark lit the grass, the bark smouldered and smoked, and so
Bootoolgah the crane, and Goonur the kangaroo rat, discovered the art of
fire making.
"This we will keep secret," they said, "from all the tribes. When we make a
fire to cook our fish we will go into a Bingahwingul scrub. There we will
make a fire and cook our food in secret. We will hide our firesticks in the
openmouthed seeds of the Bingahwinguls; one firestick we will carry always
hidden in our comebee."
Bootoolgah and Goonur cooked the next fish they caught, and found it very
good. When they went back to the camp they took some of their cooked fish
with them. The blacks noticed it looked quite different from the usual sun-
dried fish, so they asked: "What did you to that fish?
"Let it lie in the sun," said they.
"Not so," said the others.
But that the fish was sun-dried Bootoolgah and Goonur persisted. Day by day
passed, and after catching their fish, these two always disappeared,
returning with their food looking quite different from that of the others.
At last, being unable to extract any information from them, it was
determined by the tribe to watch them. Boolooral, the night owl, and
Quarrian, the parrot, were appointed to follow the two when they
disappeared, to watch where they went, and find out what they did.
Accordingly, after the next fish were caught, when Bootoolgah and Goonur
gathered up their share and started for the bush, Boolooral and Quarrian
followed on their tracks. They saw them disappear into a Bingahwingul scrub,
where they lost sight of them. Seeing a high tree on the edge of the scrub,
they climbed up it, and from there they saw all that was to be seen. They
saw Bootoolgah and Goonur throw down their load of fish, open their comebee
and take from it a stick, which stick, when they had blown upon it, they
laid in the midst of a heap of leaves and twigs, and at once from this heap
they saw a flame leap, which flame the fire makers fed with bigger sticks.
Then, as the flame died down, they saw the two place their fish in the ashes
that remained from the burnt sticks. Then back to the camp of their tribes
went Boolooral and Quarrian, back with the news of their discovery. Great
was the talk amongst the blacks, and many the queries as to how to get
possession of the comebee with the fire stick in it, when next Bootoolgah
and Goonur came into the camp. It was at length decided to hold a
corrobboree, and it was to be one on a scale not often seen, probably never
before by the young of the tribes. The grey beards proposed to so astonish
Bootoolgah and Goonur as to make them forget to guard their precious
comebee. As soon as they were intent on the corrobboree and off guard, some
one was to seize the comebee, steal the firestick and start fires for the
good of all. Most of them had tasted the cooked fish brought into the camp
by the fire makers and, having found it good, hungered for it. Beeargah, the
hawk, was told to feign sickness, to tie up his head, and to lie down near
wherever the two sat to watch the corrobboree. Lying near them, be was to
watch them all the time, and when they were laughing and unthinking of
anything but the spectacle before them, he was to steal the comebee. Having
arranged their plan of action, they all prepared for a big corrobboree. They
sent word to all the surrounding tribes, asking them to attend, especially
they begged the Bralgahs to come, as they were celebrated for their
wonderful dancing, which was so wonderful as to be most likely to absorb the
attention of the firemakers.
All the tribes agreed to come, and soon all were engaged in great
preparations. Each determined to outdo the other in the quaintness and
brightness of their painting for the corrobboree. Each tribe as they arrived
gained great applause; never before had the young people seen so much
diversity in colouring and design. Beeleer, the Black Cockatoo tribe, came
with bright splashes of orange-red on their black skins. The Pelicans came
as a contrast, almost pure white, only a touch here and there of their black
skin showing where the white paint had rubbed off. The Black Divers came in
their black skins, but these polished to shine like satin. Then came the
Millears, the beauties of the Kangaroo Rat family, who had their home on the
morillas. After them came the Buckandeer or Native Cat tribe, painted in
dull colours, but in all sorts of patterns. Mairas or Paddymelons came too
in haste to take part in the great corrobboree. After them, walking slowly,
came the Bralgahs, looking tall and dignified as they held up their red
heads, painted so in contrast to their French-grey bodies, which they deemed
too dull a colour, unbrightened, for such a gay occasion. Amongst the many
tribes there, too numerous to mention, were the rose and grey painted
Galabs, the green and crimson painted Billai; most brilliant were they with
their bodies grass green and their sides bright crimson, so afterwards
gaining them the name of crimson wings. The bright little Gidgereegahs came
too.
Great was the gathering that Bootoolgah, the crane, and Goonur, the kangaroo
rat, found assembled as they hurried on to the scene. Bootoolgah had warned
Goonur that they must only be spectators, and take no active part in the
corrobboree, as they had to guard their combee. Obedient to his advice,
Goonur seated herself beside him and slung the comebee over her arm.
Bootoolgah warned her to be careful and not forget she had it. But as the
corrobboree went on, so absorbed did she become that she forgot the comebee,
which slipped from her arm. Happily, Bootoolgah saw it do so, replaced it,
and bade her take heed, so baulking Beeargah, who had been about to seize
it, for his vigilance was unceasing, and, deeming him sick almost unto
death, the two whom lie was watching took no heed of him. Back he crouched,
moaning as he turned., but keeping ever an eye on Goonur. And soon was he
rewarded. Now came the turn of the Bralgahs to dance, and every eye but that
of the watchful one was fixed on them as slowly they came into the ring.
First they advanced, bowed and retired, then they repeated what they had
done before, and again, each time getting faster and faster in their
movements, changing their bows into pirouettes, craning their long necks and
making such antics as they went through the figures of their dance, and
replacing their dignity with such grotesqueness, as to make their large
audience shake with laughter, they themselves keeping throughout all their
grotesque measures a solemn air, which only seemed to heighten the effect of
their antics.
And now came the chance of Beeargah the hawk. In the excitement of the
moment Goonur forgot the comebee, as did Bootoolgah. They joined in the
mirthful applause of the crowd, and Goonur threw herself back helpless with
laughter. As she did so the comebee slipped from her arm. Then up jumped the
sick man from behind her, seized the comebee with his combo, cut it open,
snatched forth the firestick, set fire to the heap of grass ready near where
he had lain, and all before the two realised their loss. When they
discovered the precious comebee was gone, up jumped Bootoolgah and Goonur.
After Beeargah ran Bootoolgah, but Beeargah had a start and was fleeter of
foot, so distanced his pursuer quickly. As he ran he fired the grass with
the stick he still held. Bootoolgah, finding he could not catch Beeargah,
and seeing fires everywhere, retired from the pursuit, feeling it was
useless now to try and guard their secret, for it had now become the common
property of all the tribes there assembled.
Weedah the Mocking Bird
WEEDAH was playing a great trick on the black fellows who lived near him. He
had built himself a number of grass nyunnoos, more than twenty. He made
fires before each, to make it look as if some one lived in the nyunnoos.
First he would go into one nyunnoo, or humpy, and cry like a baby, then to
another and laugh like a child, then in turn, as he went the round of the
humpies he would sing like a maiden, corrobboree like a man, call out in a
quavering voice like an old man, and in a shrill voice like an old woman; in
fact, imitate any sort of voice he had ever heard, and imitate them so
quickly in succession that any one passing would think there was a great
crowd of blacks in that camp. His object was to entice as many strange black
fellows into his camp as he could, one at a time; then he would kill them
and gradually gain the whole country round for his own. His chance was when
he managed to get a single black fellow into his camp, which he very often
did, then by his cunning he always gained his end and the black fellow's
death. This was how he attained that end. A black fellow, probably separated
from his fellows in the excitement of the chase, would be returning home
alone passing within earshot of Weedah's camp he would hear the various
voices and wonder what tribe could be there. Curiosity would induce him to
come near. He would probably peer into the camp, and, only seeing Weedah
standing alone, would advance towards him. Weedah would be standing at a
little distance from a big glowing fire, where he would wait until the
strange black fellow came quite close to him. Then he would ask him what he
wanted. The stranger would say he had heard many voices and had wondered
what tribe it could be, so had come near to find out. Weedah would say, "But
only I am here. How could you have heard voices? See; look round; I am
alone." Bewildered, the stranger would look round and say in a puzzled tone
of voice: "Where are they all gone? As I came I heard babies crying, men
calling, and women laughing; many voices I heard but you only I see."
"And only I am here. The wind must have stirred the branches of the balah
trees, and you must have thought it was the wailing of children, the
laughing of the gouggourgahgah you heard, and thought it the laughter of
women and mine must have been the voice as of men that you heard. Alone in
the bush, as the shadows fall, a man breeds strange fancies. See by the
light of this fire, where are your fancies now? No women laugh, no babies
cry, only I, Weedah, talk." As Weedah was talking he kept edging the
stranger towards the fire; when they were quite close to it, he turned
swiftly, seized him, and threw him right into the middle of the blaze. This
scene was repeated time after time, until at last the, ranks of the black
fellows living round the camp of Weedah began to get thin.
Mullyan, the eagle hawk, determined to fathom the mystery, for as yet the
black fellows had no clue as to how or where their friends had disappeared.
Mullyan, when Beeargah, his cousin, returned to his camp no more, made up
his mind to get on his track and follow it, until at length he solved the
mystery. After following the track of Beeargah, as he had chased the
kangaroo to where he had slain it, on he followed his homeward trail. Over
stony ground he tracked him, and through sand, across plains, and through
scrub. At last in a scrub and still on the track of Beeargah, he heard the
sounds of many voices, babies crying, women singing, men talking. Peering
through the bush, finding the track took him nearer the spot whence came the
sounds, he saw the grass humpies. "Who can these be?" he thought. The track
led him right into the camp, where alone Weedah was to be seen. Mullyan
advanced towards him and asked where were the people whose voices he had
heard as he came through the bush.
Weedah said: "How can I tell you? I know of no people; I live alone."
"But," said Mullyan, the eagle hawk, "I heard babies crying, women laughing,
and men talking, not one but many."
"And I alone am here. Ask of your cars what trick they played you, or
perhaps your eyes fail you now. Can you see any but me? Look for yourself."
"And if, as indeed it seems, you only are here, what did you with Beeargah
my cousin, and where are my friends? Many are their trails that I see coming
into. this camp, but none going out. And if you alone live here you alone
can answer me."
"What know I of you or your friends? Nothing. Ask of the winds that blow.
Ask of Bahloo the moon, who looks down on the earth by night. Ask of Yhi the
sun, that looks down by day. But ask not Weedah, who dwells alone, and knows
naught of your friends." But as Weedah was talking he was carefully edging
Mullyan towards the fire.
Mullyan, the eagle hawk, too, was cunning, and not easy to trap. He saw a
blazing fire in front of him, lie saw the track of his friend behind him, he
saw Weedah was edging him towards the fire, and it came to him in a moment
the thought that if the fire could speak, well could it tell where were his
friends. But the time was not yet come to show that he had fathomed the
mystery. So he affected to fall into the trap. But when they reached the
fire, before Weedah had time to act his usual part, with a mighty grip
Mullyan the eagle hawk seized him, saying,
Even as you served Beeargah the hawk, my cousin, and my friends, so now
serve I you." And right into the middle of the blazing fire he threw him.
Then he turned homewards in haste, to tell the black fellows that he had
solved the fate of their friends, which had so long been a mystery. When he
was some distance from the Weedah's camp, he heard the sound of a thunder
clap. But it was not thunder it was the bursting of the back of Weedah's
head, which had burst with a bang as of a thunder clap. And as it burst, out
from his remains had risen a bird, Weedah, the mocking bird; which bird to
this day has a hole at the back of his head, just in the same place as
Weedah the black fellow's head had burst, and whence the bird came forth.
To this day the Weedah makes grass playgrounds, through which he runs,
imitating, as he plays, in quick succession, any voices he has ever heard,
from the crying of a child to the laughing of a woman; from the mewing of a
cat to the barking of a dog, and hence his name Weedah, the mocking bird.
The Gwineeboos the Redbreasts
GWINEEBOO and Goomai, the water rat, were down at the creek one day, getting
mussels for food, when, to their astonishment, a kangaroo hopped right into
the water beside them. Well they knew that he must be escaping from hunters,
who were probably pressing him close. So Gwineeboo quickly seized her yam
stick, and knocked the kangaroo on the head; he was caught fast in the weeds
in the creek, so could not escape. When the two old women had killed the
kangaroo they hid its body under the weeds in the creek, fearing to take it
out and cook it straight away, lest the hunters should come up and claim it.
The little son of Gwineeboo watched them from the bank. After having hidden
the kangaroo, the women picked up their mussels and started for their camp,
when up came the hunters, Quarrian and Gidgereegah, who had tracked the
kangaroo right to the creek.
Seeing the women they said: "Did you see a kangaroo?"
The women answered: "No. We saw no kangaroo."
"That is strange, for we have tracked it right up to here."
"We have seen no kangaroo. See, we have been digging out mussels for food.
Come to our camp, and we will give you some when they are cooked."
The young men, puzzled in their minds, followed the women to their camp, and
when the mussels were cooked the hunters joined the old women at their
dinner. The little boy would not eat the mussels; he kept crying to his
mother, "Gwineeboo, Gwineeboo. I want kangaroo. I want kangaroo. Gwineeboo.
Gwineeboo."
"There," said Quarrian. "Your little boy has seen the kangaroo, and wants
some; it must be here somewhere."
"Oh, no. He cries for anything he thinks of, some days for kangaroo; he is
only a little boy, and does not know what he wants," said old Gwineeboo. But
still the child kept saying, "Gwineeboo. Gwinceboo. I want kangaroo. I want
kangaroo." Goomai was so angry with little Gwineeboo for keeping on asking
for kangaroo, and thereby making the young men suspicious, that she hit him
so hard on the mouth to keep him quiet, that the blood came, and trickled
down his breast, staining it red. When she saw this, old Gwineeboo grew
angry in her turn, and hit old Goomai, who returned the blow, and so a fight
began, more words than blows, so the noise was great, the women fighting,
little Gwineeboo crying, not quite knowing whether he was crying because
Goomai had hit him, because his mother was fighting, or because he still
wanted kangaroo.
Quarrian said to Gidgereegah. "They have the kangaroo somewhere hidden; let
us slip away now in the confusion. We will only hide, then come back in a
little while, and surprise them."
They went quietly away, and as soon as the two women noticed they had gone,
they ceased fighting, and determined to cook the kangaroo. They watched the
two young men out of sight, and waited some time so as to be sure that they
were safe. Then down they hurried to get the kangaroo. They dragged it out,
and were just making a big fire on which to cook it, when up came Quarrian
and Gidgereegah, saying:
"Ah! we thought so. You had our kangaroo all the time; little Gwinceboo was
right."
"But we killed it," said the women.
"But we hunted it here," said the men, and so saying caught hold of the
kangaroo and dragged it away to some distance, where they made a fire and
cooked it. Goomai, Gwineeboo, and her little boy went over to Quarrian and
Gidgereegah, and begged for some of the meat, but the young men would give
them none, though little Gwineeboo cried piteously for some. But no; they
said they would rather throw what they did not want to the hawks than give
it to the women or child. At last, seeing that there was no hope of their
getting any, the women went away. They built a big dardurr for themselves,
shutting themselves and the little boy up in it. Then they began singing a
song which was to invoke a storm to destroy their enemies, for so now they
considered Quarrian and Gidgereegah. For some time they chanted:
"Moogaray, Moogaray, May, May,
Eehu, Eehu, Doongarah."
First they would begin very slowly and softly, gradually getting quicker and
louder, until at length they almost shrieked it out. The words they said
meant, "Come hailstones; come wind; come rain; come lightning."
While they were chanting, little Gwineeboo kept crying, and would not be
comforted. Soon came a few big drops of rain, then a big wind, and as that
lulled, more rain. Then came thunder and lightning, the air grew bitterly
cold, and there came a pitiless hailstorm, hailstones bigger than a duck's
egg fell, cutting the leaves from the trees and bruising their bark.
Gidgereegah and Quarrian came running over to the dardurr and begged the
women to let them in.
" No," shrieked Gwineeboo above the storm, "there was no kangaroo meat for
us: there is no dardurr shelter for you. Ask shelter of the hawks whom ye
fed." The men begged to be let in, said they would hunt again and get
kangaroo for the women, not one but many. "No," again shrieked the women.
"You would not even listen to the crying of a little child; it is better
such as you should perish." And fiercer raged the storm and louder sang the
women:
"Moogaray, Moogaray, May, May,
Eehu, Eehu, Doongarah."
So long and so fierce was the storm that the young men must have perished
had they not been changed into birds. First they were changed into birds and
afterwards into stars in the sky, where they now are, Gidgereegah and
Ouarrian with the kangaroo between them, still bearing the names that they
bore on the earth.
Meamei the Seven Sisters
WURRUNNAH had had a long day's hunting, and he came back to the camp tired
and hungry. He asked his old mother for durrie, but she said there was none
left. Then he asked some of the other blacks to give him some doonburr seeds
that he might make durrie for himself, But no one would give him anything.
He flew into a rage and he said, "I will go to a far country and live with
strangers; my own people would starve me." And while he was yet hot and
angry, he went. Gathering up his weapons, he strode forth to find a new
people in a new country. After he had gone some distance, he saw, a long way
off, an old man chopping out bees' nests. The old man turned his face
towards Wurrunnah, and watched him coming, but when Wurrunnah came close to
him he saw that the old man had no eyes, though he had seemed to be watching
him long before he could have heard him. It frightened Wurrunnah to see a
stranger having no eyes, yet turning his face towards him as if seeing him
all the time. But he determined not to show his fear, but go straight on
towards him, which he did. When he came up to him, the stranger told him
that his name was Mooroonumildah, and that his tribe were so-called because
they had no eyes, but saw through their noses. Wurrunnah thought it very
strange and still felt rather frightened, though Mooroonumildah seemed
hospitable and kind, for, he gave Wurrunnah, whom he said looked hungry, a
bark wirree filled with honey, told him where his camp was, and gave him
leave to go there and stay with him. Wurrunnah took the honey and turned as
if to go to the camp, but when he got out of sight he thought it wiser to
turn in another direction. He journeyed on for some time, until he came to a
large lagoon, where he decided to camp. He took a long drink of water, and
then lay down to sleep. When he woke in the morning, he looked towards the
lagoon, but saw only a big plain. He thought he must be dreaming; he rubbed
his eyes and looked again.
"This is a strange country," he said. "First I meet a man who has no eyes
and yet can see. Then at night I see a large lagoon full of water, I wake in
the morning and see none. The water was surely there, for I drank some, and
yet now there is no water." As he was wondering how the water could have
disappeared so quickly, he saw a big storm coming up; he hurried to get into
the thick bush for shelter. When he had gone a little way into the,bush, he
saw a quantity of cut bark lying on the ground.
"Now I am right," he said. "I shall get some poles and with them and this
bark make a dardurr in which to shelter myself from the storm I see coming."
He quickly cut the poles he wanted, stuck them up as a framework for his
dardurr. Then he went to lift up the bark. As he lifted up a sheet of it he
saw a strange-looking object of no tribe that he had ever seen before.
This strange object cried out: "I am Bulgahnunnoo," in such a terrifying
tone that Wurrunnah dropped the bark, picked up his weapons and ran away as
hard as he could, quite forgetting the storm. His one idea was to get as far
as he could from Bulgahnunnoo.
On he ran until he came to a big river, which hemmed him in on three sides.
The river was too big to cross, so he had to turn back, yet he did not
retrace his steps but turned in another direction. As he turned to leave the
river he saw a flock of emus coming to water. The first half of the flock
were covered with feathers, but the last half had the form of emus, but no
feathers.
Wurrunnah decided to spear one for food. For that purpose he climbed up a
tree, so that they should not see him; he got his spear ready to kill one of
the featherless birds. As they passed by, he picked out the one he meant to
have, threw his spear and killed it, then climbed down to go and get it.
As he was running up to the dead emu, he saw that they were not emus at all
but black fellows of a strange tribe. They were all standing round their
dead friend making savage signs, as to what they would do by way of
vengeance. Wurrunnah saw that little would avail him the excuse that he had
killed the black fellow in mistake for an emu; his only hope lay in flight.
Once more he took to his heels, hardly daring to look round for fear he
would see an enemy behind him. On he sped, until at last he reached a camp,
which be was almost into before he saw it; he had only been thinking of
danger behind him, unheeding what was before him.
However, he had nothing to fear in the camp he reached so suddenly, for in
it were only seven young girls. They did not look very terrifying, in fact,
seemed more startled than he was. They were quite friendly towards him when
they found that he was alone and hungry. They gave him food and allowed him
to camp there that night. He asked them where the rest of their tribe were,
and what their name was. They answered that their name was Meamei, and that
their tribe were in a far country. They had only come to this country to see
what it was like; they would stay for a while and thence return whence they
had come.
The next day Wurrunnah made a fresh start, and left the camp of the Meamei,
as if he were leaving for good. But he determined to hide near and watch
what they did, and if he could get a chance he would steal a wife from
amongst them. He was tired of travelling alone. He saw the seven sisters all
start out with their yam sticks in hand. He followed at a distance, taking
care not to be seen. He saw them stop by the nests of some flying ants. With
their yam sticks they dug all round these ant holes. When they had
successfully unearthed the ants they sat down, throwing their yam sticks on
one side, to enjoy a feast, for these ants were esteemed by them a great
delicacy.
While the sisters were busy at their feast, Wurrunnah sneaked up to their
yam sticks and stole two of them; then, taking the sticks with him, sneaked
back to his hiding-place. When at length the Meamei had satisfied their
appetites, they picked up their sticks and turned towards their camp again.
But only five could find their sticks; so those five started off, leaving
the other two to find theirs, supposing they must be somewhere near, and,
finding them, they would soon catch them up. The two girls hunted all round
the ants' nests, but could find no sticks. At last, when their backs were
turned towards him, Wurrunnah crept out and stuck the lost yam sticks near
together in the ground; then he slipt back into his hiding-place. When the
two girls turned round, there in front of them they saw their sticks. With a
cry of joyful surprise they ran to them and caught hold of them to pull them
out of the ground, in which they were firmly stuck. As they were doing so,
out from his hiding-place jumped Wurrunnah. He seized both girls round their
waists, holding them tightly. They struggled and screamed, but to no
purpose. There were none near to hear them, and the more they struggled the
tighter Wurrunnah held them. Finding their screams and struggles in vain
they quietened at length, and then Wurrunnah told them not to be afraid, he
would take care of them. He was lonely, he said, and wanted two wives. They
must come quietly with him, and he would be good to them. But they must do
as he told them. If they were not quiet, he would swiftly quieten them with
his moorillah. But if they would come quietly with him he would be good to
them. Seeing that resistance was useless, the two young girls complied with
his wish, and travelled quietly on with him. They told him that some day
their tribe would come and steal them back again; to avoid which he
travelled quickly on and on still further, hoping to elude all pursuit. Some
weeks passed, and, outwardly, the two Meamei seemed settled down to their
new life, and quite content in it, though when they were alone together they
often talked of their sisters, and wondered what they had done when they
realised their loss. They wondered if the five were still hunting for them,
or whether they had gone back to their tribe to get assistance. That they
might be in time forgotten and left with Wurrunnali for ever, they never
once for a moment thought. One day when they were camped Wurrunnah said:
"This fire will not burn well. Go you two and get some bark from those two
pine trees over there."
"No," they said, "we must not cut pine bark. If we did, you would never more
see us."
"Go! I tell you, cut pine bark. I want it. See you not the fire burns but
slowly?"
"If we go, Wurrunnah, we shall never return. You will see us no more in this
country. We know it."
"Go, women, stay not to talk. Did ye ever see talk make a fire burn? Then
why stand ye there talking? Go; do as I bid you. Talk not so foolishly; if
you ran away soon should I catch you, and, catching you, would beat you
hard. Go I talk no more."
The Meamei went, taking with them their combos with which to cut the bark.
They went each to a different tree, and each, with a strong hit, drove her
combo into the bark. As she did so, each felt the tree that her combo had
struck rising higher out of the ground and bearing her upward with it.
Higher and higher grew the pine trees, and still on them, higher and higher
from the earth, went the two girls. Hearing no chopping after the first
hits, Wurrunnah came towards the pines to see what was keeping the girls so
long. As he came near them he saw that the pine trees were growing taller
even as he looked at them, and clinging to the trunks of the trees high in
the air he saw his two wives. He called to them to come down, but they made
no answer. Time after time he called to them as higher and higher they went,
but still they made no answer. Steadily taller grew the two pines, until at
last their tops touched the sky. As they did so, from the sky the five
Meamei looked out, called to their two sisters on the pine trees, bidding
them not to be afraid but to come to them. Quickly the two girls climbed up
when they heard the voices of their sisters. When they reached the tops of
the pines the five sisters in the sky stretched forth their hands, and drew
them in to live with them there in the sky for ever.
And there, if you look, you may see the seven sisters together. You perhaps
know them as the Pleiades, but the black fellows call them the Meamei.
The Cookooburrahs and the Goolahgool
GOOGARH, the iguana, was married to Moodai, the opossum and Cookooburrah,
the laughing jackass. Cookooburrah was the mother of three sons, one grown
up and living away from her, the other two only little boys. They had their
camps near a goolahgool, whence they obtained water. A goolahgool is a
water-holding tree, of the iron bark or box species. It is a tree with a
split in the fork of it, and hollow below the fork. After heavy rain, this
hollow trunk would be full of water, which water would have run into it
through the split in the fork. A goolahgool would hold water for a long
time. The blacks knew a goolahgool, amongst other trees, by the mark which
the overflow of water made down the trunk of the tree, discolouring the
bark.
One day, Googarh, the iguana, and his two wives went out hunting, leaving
the two little Cookooburrahs at the camp. They had taken out water for
themselves in their opossum skin water bags, but they had left none for the
children, who were too small to get any from the goolahgool for themselves,
so nearly perished from thirst. Their tongues were swollen in their mouths,
and they were quite speechless, when they saw a man coming towards them.
When he came near, they saw it was Cookooburrah, their big brother. They
could not speak to him and answer, when he asked where his mother was. Then
he asked them what was the matter. All they could do was to point towards
the tree. He looked at it, and saw it was a goolahgool, so he said: "Did
your mother leave you no water?" They shook their heads. He said: "Then you
are perishing for want of a drink, my brothers?" They nodded. "Go," he said
a little way off, and you shall see how I will punish them for leaving my
little brothers to perish of thirst." He went towards the tree, climbed up
it, and split it right down. As he did so, out gushed the water in a swiftly
running stream. Soon the little fellows quenched their thirst and then, in
their joy, bathed in the water, which grew in volume every moment.
In the meantime, those who had gone forth to hunt were returning, and as
they came towards their camp they met a running stream of water. "What is
this? " they said, "our goolahgool must have burst," and they tried to dam
the water, but it was running too strongly for them. They gave up the effort
and hurried on towards their camp. But they found a deep stream divided them
from their camp. The three Cookooburrahs saw them, and the eldest one said
to the little fellows: "You call out and tell them to cross down there,
where it is not deep." The little ones called out as they were told, and
where they pointed Googarh and his wives waded into the stream. Finding she
was getting out of her depth, Cookooburrah the laughing jackass cried out:
"Goug gour gah gah. Goug gour gah gah. Give ine a stick. Give me a stick."
But from the bank her sons only answered in derision: "Goug gour gah gah.
Goug gour gah gah." And the three hunters were soon engulfed in the rushing
stream, drawn down by the current and drowned.
The Mayamah
THE blacks had all left their camp and gone away to attend a borah. Nothing
was left in the camp but one very old dog, too old to travel. After the
blacks had been gone about three days, one night came their enemies, the
Gooeeays, intending to surprise them and kill them.
Painted in all the glory of their war-paint came the Gooeeays, their hair
tied in top-knots and ornamented with feathers and kangaroos' teeth. Their
waywahs of paddy, melon, and kangaroo rat skins cut in strips, round their
waists, were new and strong, holding firmly some of their boomerangs and
woggoorahs, which they had stuck through them.
But prepared as they were for conquest, they found only a deserted camp
containing naught but one old dog. They asked the old dog where the blacks
were gone. But he only shook his head. Again and again they asked him, and
again and again he only shook his head. At last some of the black fellows
raised their spears and their moorillahs or nullah-nullahs, saying:
"If you do not tell us where the blacks are gone, we shall kill you."
Then spoke the old dog, saying only: "Gone to the borah."
And as he spoke every one of the Gooeeays and everything they had with them
was turned to stone. Even the waywahs round their waists, the top-knots on
their heads, and the spears in their hands, even these turned to stone. And
when the blacks returned to their camp long afterwards, when the borah was
over, and the boys, who had been made young men, gone out into the bush to
undergo their novitiate, each with his solitary guardian, then saw the
blacks, their enemies, the Gooeeays, standing round their old camp, as if to
attack it. But instead of being men of flesh, they were men of stone-they,
their weapons, their waywahs, and all that belonged to them, stone.
And at that place are to be found stones or mayamahs of great beauty,
striped and marked and coloured as were the men painted.
And the place of the mayamah is on one of the mounts near Beemery.
The Bunbundoolooeys
THE mother Bunbundoolooey put her child, a little boy Bunbundoolooey, who
could only just crawl, into her goolay. Goolay is a sort of small netted
hammock, slung by black women on their backs, in which they carry their
babies and goods in general. Bunbundoolooey, the pigeon, put her goolay
across her back, and started out hunting.
When she had gone some distance she came to a clump of bunnia or wattle
trees. At the foot of one of these she saw some large euloomarah or grubs,
which were good to cat. She picked some up, and dug with her yam stick round
the roots of the tree to get more. She went from tree to tree, getting grubs
at every one. That she might gather them all, she put down her goolay, and
hunted further round.
Soon in the excitement of her search, she forgot the goolay with the child
in it, and wandered away. Further and further she went from the Dunnia
clump, never once thinking of her poor birrahlee, or baby. On and still on
she went, until at length she reached a far country.
The birrablee woke up, and crawled out of the goolay. First he only crawled
about, but soon he grew stronger, and raised himself, and stood by a tree.
Then day by day he grew stronger and walked alone, and stronger still he
grew, and could run. Then he grew on into a big boy, and then into a man,
and his mother he never saw while he was growing from birrahlee to man.
But in the far country at length one day Bunbundoolooey, the mother,
remembered the birrablee she had left.
"Oh," she cried, "I forgot my birrahlee. I left my birrablee where the
Dunnias grow in a far country. I must go to my birrahlee. My poor birrahlee!
I forgot it. Mad must I have been when I forgot him. My birrahlee! My
birrahlee!"
And away went the mother as fast as she could travel back to the Dunnia
clump in the far country. When she reached the spot she saw the tracks of
her birrablee, first crawling, then standing, then walking, and then
running. Bigger and bigger were the tracks she followed, until she saw they
were the tracks of a man. She followed them until she reached a camp. No one
was in the camp, but a fire was there, so she waited, and while waiting
looked round. She saw her son had made himself many weapons, and many
opossum rugs, which he had painted gaily inside.
Then at last she saw a man coming towards the camp, and she knew he was her
birrahlee, grown into a man. As he drew near she ran out to meet him,
saying:
"Bunbundoolooey, I am your mother. The mother who forgot you as a birrahlee,
and left you. But now I have come to find you, my son. Long was the journey,
my son, and your mother was weary, but now that she sees once more her
birrahlee, who has grown into a man, she is no longer weary, but glad is her
heart, and loud could she sing in her joy. Ah, Bunbundoolooey, my son!
Bunbundoolooey, my son!"
And she ran forward with her arms out, as if to embrace him.
But stern was the face of Bunbundoolooey, the son, and no answer did he make
with his tongue. But he stooped to the ground and picked therefrom a big
stone. This swiftly he threw at his mother, hitting her with such force that
she fell dead to the earth.
Then on strode Bunbundoolooey to his camp.
Oongnairwah and Guinarey
OONGNAIRWAH, the diver, and Guinarey, the eagle hawk, told all the pelicans,
black swans, cranes, and many others, that they would take their net to the
creek and catch fish, if some of them would go and beat the fish down
towards the net.
Gladly went the pelicans, black swans, and the rest to the creek. In they
jumped, and splashed the water about to scare the fish down towards where
Oongnairwah and Guinarey were stationed with their net. Presently little
Deereeree, the wagtail, and Burreenjin, the peewee, who were on the bank
sitting on a stump, called out, "Look out, we saw the back of an alligator
in the water." The diver and eagle hawk called back, "Go away, then. The
wind blows from you towards him. Go back or he will smell you."
But Deereeree and Burreenjin were watching the fishing and did not heed what
was said to them. Soon the alligator smelt them, and he lashed out with his
tail, splashing the water so high, and lashing so furiously, that all the
fishermen were drowned, even Deereeree and Burreenjin on the bank-not one
escaped, And red was the bank of the creek, and red the stump whereon
Deereeree and Burreenjin had sat, with the blood of the slain. And the place
is called Goomade and is red for ever.
Narahdarn the Bat
NARAHDARN, the bat, wanted honey. He watched until he saw a Wurranunnah, or
bee, alight. He caught it, stuck a white feather between its hind legs, let
it go and followed it. He knew he could see the white feather, and so follow
the bee to its nest. He ordered his two wives, of the Bilber tribe, to
follow him with wirrees to carry home the honey in. Night came on and
Wurranunnah the bee had not reached home. Narahdarn caught him, imprisoned
him under bark, and kept him safely there until next morning. When it was
light enough to see, Narahdarn let the bee go again, and followed him to his
nest, in a gunnyanny tree. Marking the tree with his comebo that he might
know it again, he returned to hurry on his wives who were some way behind.
He wanted them to come on, climb the tree, and chop out the honey. When they
reached the marked tree one of the women climbed up. She called out to
Narahdarn that the honey was in a split in the tree. He called back to her
to put her hand in and get it out. She put her arm in, but found she could
not get it out again. Narahdarn climbed up to help her, but found when he
reached her that the only way to free her was to cut off her arm. This he
did before she had time to realise what he was going to do, and protest. So
great was the shock to her that she died instantly. Narahdarn carried down
her lifeless body and commanded her sister, his other wife, to go up, chop
out the arm, and get the honey. She protested, declaring the bees would have
taken the honey away by now.
"Not so," he said; "go at once."
Every excuse she could think of, to save herself, she made. But her excuses
were in vain, and Narahdarn only became furious with her for making them,
and, brandishing his boondi, drove her up the tree. She managed to get her
arm in beside her sister's, but there it stuck and she could not move it.
Narahdarn, who was watching her, saw what had happened and followed her up
the tree. Finding he could not pull her arm out, in spite of her cries, he
chopped it off, as he had done her sister's. After one shriek, as he drove
his comebo through her arm, she was silent. He said, "Come down, and I will
chop out the bees' nest." But she did not answer him, and he saw that she
too was dead. Then he was frightened, and climbed quickly down the gunnyanny
tree; taking her body to the ground with him, he laid it beside her
sister's, and quickly he hurried from the spot, taking no further thought of
the honey. As he neared his camp, two little sisters of his wives ran out to
meet him, thinking their sisters would be with him, and that they would give
them a taste of the honey they knew they had gone out to get. But to their
surprise Narahdarn came alone, and as he drew near to them they saw his arms
were covered with blood. And his face had a fierce look on it, which
frightened them from even asking where their sisters were. They ran and told
their mother that Narahdarn had returned alone, that he looked fierce and
angry, also his arms were covered with blood. Out went the mother of the
Bilbers, and she said, "Where are my daughters, Narahdarn? Forth went they
this morning to bring home the honey you found. You come back alone. You
bring no honey. Your look is fierce, as of one who fights, and your arms are
covered with blood. Tell me, I say, where are my daughters?"
"Ask me not, Bilber. Ask Wurranunnah the bee, he may know. Narahdarn the bat
knows nothing." And he wrapped himself in a silence which no questioning
could pierce. Leaving him there, before his camp, the mother of the Bilbers
returned to her dardurr and told her tribe that her daughters were gone, and
Narahdarn, their husband, would tell her nothing of them. But she felt sure
he knew their fate, and certain she was that he had some tale to tell, for
his arms were covered with blood.
The chief of her tribe listened to her. When she had finished and begun to
wail for her daughters, whom she thought she would see no more, he said,
"Mother of the Bilbers, your daughters shall be avenged if aught has
happened to them at the hands of Narahdarn. Fresh are his tracks, and the
young men of your tribe shall follow whence they have come, and finding what
Narahdarn has done, swiftly shall they return. Then shall we hold a
corrobboree, and if your daughters fell at his hand Narahdarn shall be
punished."
The mother of the Bilbers said: "Well have you spoken, oh my relation. Now
speed ye the young men lest the rain fall or the dust blow and the tracks be
lost." Then forth went the fleetest footed and the keenest eyed of the young
men of the tribe. Ere long, back they came to the camp with the news of the
fate of the Bilbers.
That night was the corrobboree held. The women sat round in a half-circle,
and chanted a monotonous chant, keeping time by hitting, some of them, two
boomerangs together, and others beating their rolled up opossum rugs.
Big fires were lit on the edge of the scrub, throwing light on the dancers
as they came dancing out from their camps, painted in all manner of designs,
waywahs round their waists, tufts of feathers in their hair, and carrying in
their hands painted wands. Heading the procession as the men filed out from
the scrub into a cleared space in front of the women, came Narahdarn. The
light of the fires lit up the tree tops, the dark balahs showed out in
fantastic shapes, and weird indeed was the scene as slowly the men danced
round; louder clicked the boomerangs and louder grew the chanting of the
women; higher were the fires piled, until the flames shot their coloured
tongues round the trunks of the trees and high into the air. One fire was
bigger than all, and towards it the dancers edged Narahdarn; then the voice
of the mother of the Bilbers shrieked in the chanting, high above that of
the other women. As Narahdarn turned from the fire to dance back he found a
wall of men confronting him. These quickly seized him and hurled him into
the madly-leaping fire before him, where he perished in the flames. And so
were the Bilbers avenged.
Mullyangah the Morning Star
MULLYAN, the eagle hawk, built himself a home high in a yaraan tree. There
he lived apart from his tribe, with Moodai the opossum, his wife, and Moodai
the opossum, his mother-in-law. With them too was Buttergah, a daughter of
the Buggoo or flying squirrel tribe. Buttergah was a friend of Moodai, the
wife of Mullyan, and a distant cousin to the Moodai tribe.
Mullyan the eagle hawk was a cannibal. That was the reason of his living
apart from the other blacks. In order to satisfy his cannibal cravings, he
used to sally forth with a big spear, a spear about four times as big as an
ordinary spear. If he found a black fellow hunting alone, he would kill him
and take his body up to the house in the tree. There the Moodai and
Buttergab would cook it, and all of them would eat the flesh; for the women
as well as Mullyan were cannibals. This went on for some time, until at last
so many black fellows were slain that their friends determined to find out
what became of them, and they tracked the last one they missed. They tracked
him to where he had evidently been slain; they took up the tracks of his
slayer, and followed them right to the foot of the yaraan tree, in which was
built the home of Mullyan. They tried to climb the tree, but it was high and
straight, and they gave up the attempt after many efforts. In their despair
at their failure they thought of the Bibbees, a tribe noted for its climbing
powers. They summoned two young Bibbees to their aid. One came, bringing
with him his friend Murrawondah of the climbing rat tribe.
Having heard what the blacks wanted them to do, these famous climbers went
to the yaraan tree and made a start at once. There was only light enough
that first night for them to see to reach a fork in the tree about half-way
up. There they camped, watched Mullyan away in the morning, and then climbed
on. At last they reached the home of Mullyan. They watched their chance and
then sneaked into his humpy.
When they were safely inside, they hastened to secrete a smouldering stick
in one end of the humpy, taking care they were not seen by any of the women.
Then they went quietly down again, no one the wiser of their coming or
going. During the day the women heard sometimes a crackling noise, as of
burning, but looking round they saw nothing, and as their own fire was safe,
they took no notice, thinking it might have been caused by some grass having
fallen into their fire.
After their descent from having hidden the smouldering fire stick, Bibbee
and Murrawondah found the blacks and told them what they had done. Hearing
that the plan was to burn out Mullyan, and fearing that the tree might fall,
they all moved to some little distance, there to watch and wait for the end.
Great was their joy at the thought that at last their enemy was
circumvented. And proud were Bibbee and Murrawondah as the black fellows
praised their prowess.
After dinner-time Mullyan came back. When he reached the entrance to his
house he put down his big spear outside. Then he went in and threw himself
down to rest, for long had he walked and little had he gained. In a few
minutes he heard his big spear fall down. He jumped up and stuck it in its
place again. He had no sooner thrown himself down, than again he heard it
fall. Once more be rose and replaced it. As he reached his resting-place
again, out burst a flame of fire from the end of his humpy. He called out to
the three women, who were cooking, and they rushed to help him extinguish
the flames. But in spite of their efforts the fire only blazed the brighter.
Mullyan's arm was burnt off. The Moodai had their feet burnt, and Buttergah
was badly burnt too. Seeing they were helpless against the fire, they turned
to leave the humpy to its fate, and make good their own escape. But they had
left it too late. As they turned to descend the tree, the roof of the humpy
fell on them. And all that remained when the fire ceased, were the charred
bones of the dwellers in the yaraan tree. That was all that the blacks found
of their enemies; but their legend says that Mullyan the eagle hawk lives in
the sky as Mullyangah the morning star, on one side of which is a little
star, which is his one arm; on the other a larger star, which is Moodai the
opossum, his wife.
Goomblegubbon, Beeargah, and Ouyan
GOOMBLEGUBBON the bustard, his two wives, Beeargah the hawk, and Ouyan the
curlew, with the two children of Beeargah, had their camps right away in the
bush; their only water supply was a small dungle, or gilguy hole. The wives
and children camped in one camp, and Goomblegubbon a short distance off in
another. One day the wives asked their husband to lend them the dayoorl
stone, that they might grind some doonburr to make durrie. But he would not
lend it to them, though they asked him several times. They knew he did not
want to use it himself, for they saw his durrie on a piece of bark, between
two fires, already cooking. They determined to be revenged, so said:
"We will make some water bags of the opossum skins; we will fill them with
water, then some day when Goomblegubbon is out hunting we will empty the
dungle of water, take the children, and run away! When he returns he will
find his wives and children gone and the dungle empty; then he will be sorry
that he would not lend us the dayoorl."
"The wives soon caught some opossums, killed and skinned them, plucked all
the hair from the skins, saving it to roll into string to make goomillahs,
cleaned the skins of all flesh, sewed them up with the sinews, leaving only
the neck opening. When finished, they blew into them, filled them with air,
tied them up and left them to dry for a few days. When they were dry and
ready to be used, they chose a day when Goomblegubbon was away, filled the
water bags, emptied the dungle, and started towards the river.
Having travelled for some time, they at length reached the river. They saw
two black fellows on the other side, who, when they saw the runaway wives
and the two children, swam over to them and asked whence they had come and
whither they were going.
"We are running away from our husband Goomblegubbon, who would lend us no
dayoorl to grind our doonburr on, and we ran away lest we and our children
should starve, for we could not live on meat alone. But whither we are going
we know not, except that it must be far away, lest Goomblegubbon follow and
kill us."
The black fellows said they wanted wives, and would each take one, and both
care for the children. The women agreed. The black fellows swam back across
the river, each taking a child first, and then a woman, for as they came
from the back country, where no creeks were, the women could not swim.
Goomblegubbon came back from hunting, and, seeing no wives, called aloud for
them, but heard no answer. Then he went to their camp, and found them not.
Then turning towards the dungle he saw that it was empty. Then he saw the
tracks of his wives and children going towards the river. Great was his
anger, and vowing he would kill them when he found them, he picked up his
spears and followed their tracks, until he too reached the river. There on
the other side he saw a camp, and in it he could see strange black fellows,
his wives, and his children. He called aloud for them to cross him over, for
he too could not swim. But the sun went down and still they did not answer.
He camped where he was that night, and in the morning he saw the camp
opposite had been deserted and set fire to; the country all round was burnt
so that not even the tracks of the black fellows and his wives could be
found, even had he been able to cross the river. And never again did he see
or hear of his wives or his children.
Mooregoo the Mopoke, and Bahloo the Moon
MOOREGOO the Mopoke had been camped away by himself for a long time. While
alone he had made a great number of boomerangs, nullah-nullahs, spears,
neilahmans, and opossum rugs. Well had he carved the weapons with the teeth
of opossums, and brightly had he painted the inside of the rugs with
coloured designs, and strongly had he sewn them with the sinews of opossums,
threaded in the needle made of the little bone taken from the leg of an emu.
As Mooregoo looked at his work he was proud of all he had done.
One night Babloo the moon came to his camp, and said: "Lend me one of your
opossum rugs."
"No. I lend not my rugs."
"Then give me one."
"No. I give not my rugs."
Looking round, Bahloo saw the beautifully carved weapons, so he said, "Then
give me, Mooregoo, some of your weapons."
"No, I give, never, what I have made, to another."
Again Bahloo said, "The night is cold. Lend me a rug. "
"I have spoken," said Mooregoo. " I never lend my rugs."
Barloo said no more, but went away, cut some bark and made a dardurr for
himself. When it was finished and he safely housed in it, down came the rain
in torrents. And it rained without ceasing until the whole country was
flooded. Mooregoo was drowned. His weapons floated about and drifted apart,
and his rugs rotted in the water.
Ouyan the Curlew
BLEARGAH the hawk, mother of Ouyan the curlew, said one day to her son: "Go,
Ouyan, out, take your spears and kill an emu. The women and I are hungry.
You are a man, go out and kill, that we may eat. You must not stay always in
the camp like an old woman; you must go and hunt as other men do, lest the
women laugh at you."
Ouyan took his spears and went out hunting, but though he went far, he could
not get an emu, yet he dare not return to the camp and face the jeers of the
women. Well could they jeer, and angry could his mother grow when she was
hungry. Sooner than return empty-handed he would cut some flesh off his own
legs. And this he decided to do. he made a cut in his leg with his comebo
and as he made it, cried aloud: "Yuckay! Yuckay," in pain. But he cut on,
saying: "Sharper would cut the tongues of the women, and deeper would be the
wounds they would make, if I returned without food for them." And crying:
"Yuckay, yuckay," at each stroke of his comebo, he at length cut off a piece
of flesh, and started towards the camp with it.
As he neared the camp his mother cried out: "What have you brought us,
Ouyan? We starve for meat, come quickly."
He came and laid the flesh at her feet, saying: "Far did I go, and little
did I see, but there is enough for all to-night; to-morrow will I go forth
again."
The women cooked the flesh, and ate it hungrily. Afterwards they felt quite
ill, but thought it must be because they had eaten too hungrily. The next
day they hurried Ouyan forth again. And again he returned bringing his own
flesh back. Again the women ate hungrily of it, and again they felt quite
ill.
Then, too, Beeargah noticed for the first time that the flesh Ouyan brought
looked different from emu flesh. She asked him what flesh it was. He
replied: "What should it be but the flesh of emu?"
But Beeargah was not satisfied, and she said to the two women who lived with
her: "Go you, to-morrow, follow Ouyan, and see whence he gets this flesh."
The next day, the two woman followed Ouyan when he went forth to hunt. They
followed at a good distance, that he might not notice that they were
following. Soon they heard him crying as if in pain: " Yuckay, yuckay,
yuckay nurroo gay gay." When they came near they saw he was cutting the
flesh off his own limbs. Before he discovered that they were watching him,
back they went to the old woman, and told her what they had seen.
Soon Ouyan came back, bringing, as usual, the flesh with him. When he had
thrown it down at his mother's feet, he went away, and lay down as if tired
from the chase. His mother went up to him, and before he had time to cover
his mutilated limbs, she saw that indeed the story of the women was true.
Angry was she that he had so deceived her: and she called loudly for the
other two women, who came running to her.
"You are right," she said. "Too lazy to hunt for emu, he cut off his own
flesh, not caring that when we unwittingly ate thereof we should sicken. Let
us beat him who did us this wrong."
The three women seized poor Ouyan and beat him, though he cried aloud in
agony when the blows fell on his bleeding legs.
When the women had satisfied their vengeance, Beeargah said: "You Ouyan
shall have no more flesh on your legs, and red shall they be for ever; red,
and long and fleshless." Saying which she went, and with her the other
women. Ouyan crawled away and hid himself, and never again did his mother
see him. But night after night was to be heard a wailing cry of, "Bou you
gwai gwai. Bou you gwai gwai," which meant, "My poor red legs. My poor red
legs."
But though Ouyan the man was never seen again, a bird with long thin legs,
very red in colour under the feathers, was seen often, and heard to cry ever
at night, even as Ouyan the man had cried: "Bou you gwai gwai. Bou you gwai
gwai." And this bird bears always the name of Ouyan.
Dinewan the Emu, and Wahn the Crows
DINEWAN and his two wives, the Wahn, were camping out. Seeing some clouds
gathering, they made a bark humpy. It came on to rain, and they all took
shelter under it. Dinewan, when his wives were not looking, gave a kick
against a piece of bark at one side of the humpy, knocked it down, then told
his wives to go and put it up again. When they were outside putting it up,
he gave a kick, and knocked down a piece on the other side; so no sooner
were they in again than out they had to go. This he did time after time,
until at last they su spected him, and decided that one of them would watch.
The one who was watching saw Dinewan laugh to himself and go and knock down
the bark they had just put up, chuckling at the thought of his wives having
to go out in the wet and cold to put it up, while he had his supper dry and
comfortably inside. The one who saw him told the other, and they decided to
teach him a lesson. So in they came, each with a piece of bark filled with
hot coals. They went straight up to Dinewan, who was lying down laughing.
"Now," they said, "you shall feel as hot we did cold." And thev threw the
coals over him. Dinewan jumped up. crying aloud with the pain, for he was
badly burnt. He rolled himself over, and ran into the rain; and his wives
stayed inside, and laughed aloud at him.
Goolahwilleel the Topknot Pigeons
YOUNG GOOLAHWILLEEEL used to go out hunting every day. His mother and
sisters always expected that he would bring home kangaroo and emu for them.
But each day he came home without any meat at all. They asked him what he
did in the bush, as he evidently did not hunt. He said that he did hunt.
"Then why," said they, "do you bring us nothing home?"
"I cannot catch and kill what I follow," he said. "You hear me cry out when
I find kangaroo or emu; is it not so?"
"Yes; each day we hear you call when you find something, and each day we get
ready the fire, expecting you to bring home the spoils of the chase, but you
bring nothing."
"To-morrow," he said, "you shall not be disappointed. I will bring you a
kangaroo."
Every day, instead of hunting, Goolahwilleel had been gathering wattle-gum,
and with this he had been modelling a kangaroo-a perfect model of one, tail,
ears, and all complete. So the next day he came towards the camp carrying
this kangaroo made of gum. Seeing him coming, and also seeing that he was
carrying the promised kangaroo, his mother and sisters said: "Ah,
Goolahwilleel spoke truly. He has kept his word, and now brings us a
kangaroo. Pile up the fire. To-night we shall eat meat."
About a hundred yards away from the camp Goolahwilleel put down his model,
and came on without it. His mother called out: "Where is the kangaroo you
brought home?
"Oh, over there." And he pointed towards where he had left it.
The sisters ran to get it, but came back saying: "Where is it? We cannot see
it."
"Over there," he said, pointing again.
"But there is only a great figure of gum there."
"Well, did I say it was anything else? Did I not say it was gum?"
"No, you did not. You said it was a kangaroo."
"And so it is a kangaroo. A beautiful kangaroo that I made all by myself."
And he smiled quite proudly to think what a fine kangaroo he had made.
But his mother and sisters did not smile. They seized him and gave him a
good beating for deceiving them. They told him he should never go out alone
again, for he only played instead of hunting, though he knew they starved
for meat. They would always in the future go with him.
And so for ever the Goolahwilleels went in flocks, never more singly, in
search of food.
Goonur, the Woman-Doctor
GOONUR was a clever old woman-doctor, who lived with her son, Goonur, and
his two wives. The wives were Guddah the red lizard, and Beereeun the small,
prickly lizard. One day the two wives had done something to anger Goonur,
their husband, and he gave them both a great beating. After their beating
they went away by themselves. They said to each other that they could stand
their present life no longer, and yet there was no escape unless they killed
their husband. They decided they would do that. But how? That was the
question. It must be by cunning.
At last they decided on a plan. They dug a big hole in the sand near the
creek, filled it with water, and covered the hole over with boughs, leaves,
and grass.
"Now we will go," they said, "and tell our husband that we have found a big
bandicoot's nest."
Back they went to the camp, and told Goonur that they had seen a big nest of
bandicoots near the creek; that if he sneaked up he would be able to suprise
them and get the lot.
Off went Goonur in great haste. He sneaked up to witbin a couple of feet of
the nest, then gave a spring on to the top of it. And only when he felt the
bough top give in with him, and he sank down into water, did he realise that
he had been tricked. Too late then to save himself, for he was drowning and
could not escape. His wives had watched the success of their stratagem from
a distance. When they were certain that they had effectually disposed of
their hated husband, they went back to the camp. Goonur, the mother, soon
missed her son, made inquiries of his wives, but gained no information from
them. Two or three days passed, and yet Goonur, the son, returned not.
Seriously alarmed at his long absence without having given her notice of his
intention, the mother determined to follow his track. She took up his trail
where she had last seen him leave the camp. This she followed until she
reached the so-called bandicoot's nest. Here his tracks disappeared, and
nowhere could she find a sign of his having returned from this place. She
felt in the hole with her yarn stick, and soon felt that there was something
large there in the water. She cut a forked stick and tried to raise the body
and get it out, for she felt sure it must be her son. But she could not
raise it; stick after stick broke in the effort. At last she cut a midjee
stick and tried with that, and then she was successful. When she brought out
the body she found it was indeed her son. She dragged the body to an ant
bed, and watched intently to see if the stings of the ants brought any sign
of returning life. Soon her hope was realised, and after a violent twitching
of the muscles her son regained consciousness. As soon as he was able to do
so, he told her of the trick his wives had played on him.
Goonur, the mother, was furious. "No more shall they have you as husband.
You shall live hidden in my dardurr. When we get near the camp you can get
into this long, big comebee, and I will take you in. When you want to go
hunting I will take you from the camp in this comebee, and when we are out
of sight you can get out and hunt as of old."
And thus they managed for some time to keep his return a secret; and little
the wives knew that their husband was alive and in his mother's camp. But as
day after day Goonur, the mother, returned from hunting loaded with spoils,
they began to think she must have help from some one; for surely, they said,
no old woman could be so successful in hunting. There was a mystery they
were sure, and they were determined to find it out.
"See," they said, "she goes out alone. She is old, and yet she brings home
more than we two do together, and we are young. To-day she brought opossums,
piggiebillahs, honey yams, quatha, and many things. We got little, yet we
went far. We will watch her."
The next time old Goonur went out, carrying her big comebee, the wives
watched her.
"Look," they said, " how slowly she goes. She could not climb trees for
opossums-she is too old and weak; look how she staggers."
They went cautiously after her, and saw when she was some distance from the
camp that she put down her comebee. And out of it, to their amazement,
stepped Goonur, their husband.
"Ah," they said, "this is her secret. She must have found him, and, as she
is a great doctor, she was able to bring him to life again. We must wait
until she leaves him, and then go to him, and beg to know where he has been,
and pretend joy that he is back, or else surely now he is alive again he
will sometime kill us."
Accordingly, when Goonur was alone the two wives ran to him, and said:
"Why, Goonur, our husband, did you leave us? Where have you been all the
time that we, your wives, have mourned for you? Long has the time been
without you, and we, your wives, have been sad that you came no more to our
dardurr."
Goonur, the husband, affected to believe their sorrow was genuine, and that
they did not know when they directed him to the bandicoot's nest that it was
a trap. Which trap, but for his mother, might have been his grave.
They all went hunting together, and when they had killed enough for food
they returned to the camp. As they came near to the camp, Goonur, the
mother, saw them coming, and cried out:
"Would you again be tricked by your wives? Did I save you from death only
that you might again be killed? I spared them, but I would I had slain them,
if again they are to have a chance of killing you, my son. Many are the
wiles of women, and another time I might not be able to save you. Let them
live if you will it so, my son, but not with you. They tried to lure you to
death; you are no longer theirs, mine only now, for did I not bring you back
from the dead? "
But Goonur the husband said, "In truth did you save me, my mother, and these
my wives rejoice that you did. They too, as I was, were deceived by the
bandicoot's nest, the work of an enemy yet to be found. See, my mother, do
not the looks of love in their eyes, and words of love on their lips vouch
for their truth? We will be as we have been, my mother, and live again in
peace."
And thus craftily did Goonur the husband deceive his wives and make them
believe he trusted them wholly, while in reality his mind was even then
plotting vengeance. In a few days he had his plans ready. Having cut and
pointed sharply two stakes, he stuck them firmly in the creek, then he
placed two logs on the bank, in front of the sticks, which were underneath
the water, and invisible. Having made his preparations, he invited his wives
to come for a bathe. He said when they reached the creek:
"See those two logs on the bank, you jump in each from one and see which can
dive the furthest. I will go first to see you as you come up." And in he
jumped, carefully avoiding the pointed stakes. "Right," he called. "All is
clear here, jump in."
Then the two wives ran down the bank each to a log and jumped from it. Well
had Goonur calculated the distance, for both jumped right on to the stakes
placed in the water to catch them, and which stuck firmly into them, holding
them under the water.
"Well am I avenged," said Goonur. " No more will my wives lay traps to catch
me." And he walked off to the camp.
His mother asked him where his wives were. "They left me," he said, "to get
bees' nests."
But as day by day passed and the wives returned not, the old woman began to
suspect that her son knew more than he said. She asked him no more, but
quietly watched her opportunity, when her son was away hunting, and then
followed the tracks of the wives. She tracked them to the creek, and as she
saw no tracks of their return, she went into the creek, felt about, and
there found the two bodies fast on the stakes. She managed to get them off
and out of the creek, then she determined to try and restore them to life,
for she was angry that her son had not told her what he had done, but had
deceived her as well as his wives. She rubbed the women with some of her
medicines, dressed the wounds made by the stakes, and then dragged them both
on to ants' nests and watched their bodies as the ants crawled over them,
biting them. She had not long to wait; soon they began to move and come to
life again.
As soon as they were restored Goonur took them back to the camp and said to
Goonur her son, "Now once did I use my knowledge to restore life to you, and
again have I used it to restore life to your wives. You are all mine now,
and I desire that you live in peace and never more deceive me, or never
again shall I use my skill for you:"
And they lived for a long while together, and when the Mother Doctor died
there was a beautiful, dazzlingly bright falling star, followed by a sound
as of a sharp clap of thunder, and all the tribes round when they saw and
heard this said, "A great doctor must have died, for that is the sign." And
when the wives died, they were taken up to the sky, where they are now known
as Gwaibillah, the red star, so called from its bright red colour, owing,
the legend says, to the red marks left by the stakes on the bodies of the
two women, and which nothing could efface.
Deereeree the Wagtail, and the Rainbow
DEEREEREE was a widow and lived in a camp alone with her four little girls.
One day Bibbee came and made a camp not far from hers. Deereeree was
frightened of him, too frightened to go to sleep. All night she used to
watch his camp, and if she heard a sound she would cry aloud: "Deerceree,
wyah, wyah, Deereeree," Sometimes she would be calling out nearly all night.
In the morning, Bibbee would come over to her camp and ask her what was the
matter that she had called out so in the night. She told him that she
thought she heard some one walking about and was afraid, for she was alone
with her four little girls.
He told her she ought not to be afraid with all her children round her. But
night after night she sat up crying: "Wyah, wyah, Deereeree, Deereeree."
At last Bibbee said! "If you are so frightened, marry me and live in my
camp. I will take care of you." But Deereeree said she did not want to
marry. So night after night was to be heard her plaintive cry of "Wyah,
wyah, Deereeree, Deereeree." And again and again Bibbee pressed her to share
his camp and marry him. But she always refused. The more she refused the
more he wished to marry her. And he used to wonder how he could induce her
to change her mind.
At last he thought of a plan of surprising her into giving her consent. He
set to work and made a beautiful and many coloured arch, which, when it was
made, he called Euloowirree, and he placed it right across the sky, reaching
from one side of the earth to the other. When the rainbow was firmly placed
in the sky, and showing out in all its brilliancy, of many colours, as a
roadway from the earth to the stars, Bibbee went into his camp to wait. When
Deereeree looked up at the sky and saw the wonderful rainbow, she thought
something dreadful must be going to happen. She was terribly frightened, and
called aloud: "Wyah, wyah." In her fear she gathered her children together,
and fled with them to Bibbee's camp for protection.
Bibbee proudly told her that he had made the rainbow, just to show how
strong he was and how safe she would be if she married him. But if she would
not, she would see what terrible things he would make to come on the earth,
not just a harmless and beautiful roadway across the heavens, but things
that would burst from the earth and destroy it.
So by working on her mixed feelings of fear of his prowess, and admiration
of his skill, Bibbee gained his desire, and Deereeree married him. And when
long afterwards they died, Deereeree was changed into the little willy
wagtail who may be heard through the stillness of the summer nights, crying
her plaintive wail of "Deereeree, wyah, wyah, Deereeree."
And Bibbee was changed into the woodpecker, or climbing tree bird, who is
always running up trees as if he wanted to be building other ways to the
than the famous roadway of his Euloowirree, the building of which had won
him his wife.
Mooregoo the Mopoke, and Mooninguggahgul the Mosquito Bird
AN old man lived with his two wives, the Mooninguggahgul sisters, and his
two sons. The old man spent all his time making boomerangs, until at last he
had four nets full of these weapons. The two boys used to go out hunting
opossums and iguanas, which they would cook in the bush, and eat, without
thinking of bringing any home to their parents. The old man asked them one
day to bring him home some fat to rub his boomerangs with. This the boys
did, but they brought only the fat, having eaten the rest of the iguanas
from which they had taken the fat. The old man was very angry that his sons
were so greedy, but he said nothing, though be determined to punish them,
for he thought "when they were young, and could not hunt, I hunted for them
and fed them well; now that they can hunt and I am old and cannot so well,
they give me nothing." Thinking of his treatment at the hands of his sons,
he greased all his boomerangs, and when he had finished them he said to the
boys: "You take these boomerangs down on to the plain and try them; see if I
have made them well. Then come back and tell me. I will stay here."
The boys took the boomerangs. They threw them one after another; but to
their surprise not one of the boomerangs they threw touched the ground, but,
instead, went whirling up out of sight. When they had finished throwing the
boomerangs, all of which acted in the same way, whirling up through space,
they prepared to start home again. But as they looked round they saw a huge
whirlwind coming towards them. They were frightened and called out
"Wurrawilberoo," for they knew there was a devil in the whirlwind. They laid
hold of trees near at hand that it might not catch them. But the whirlwind
spread out first one arm and rooted up one tree, then another arm, and
rooted up another. The boys ran in fear from tree to tree, but each tree
that they went to was torn up by the whirlwind. At last they ran to two
mubboo or beef-wood trees, and clung tightly to them. After them rushed the
whirlwind, sweeping all before it, and when it reached the mubboo trees, to
which the boys were clinging, it tore them from their roots and bore them
upward swiftly, giving the boys no time to leave go, so they were borne
upward clinging to the mubboo trees. On the whirlwind bore them until they
reached the sky, where it placed the two trees with the boys still clinging
to them. And there they still are, near the Milky Way, and known as
Wurrawilberoo. The boomerangs are scattered all along the Milky Way, for the
whirlwind had gathered them all together in its rush through space. Having
placed them all in the sky, down came the whirlwind, retaking its natural
shape, which was that of the old man, for so had he wreaked his vengeance on
his sons for neglecting their parents.
As time went on, the mothers wondered why their sons did not return. It
struck them as strange that the old man expressed no surprise at the absence
of the boys, and they suspected that he knew more than he cared to say. For
he only sat in the camp smiling while his wives discussed what could have
happened to them, and he let the women go out and search alone. The mothers
tracked their sons to the plain. There they saw that a big whirlwind had
lately been, for trees were uprooted and strewn in every direction. They
tracked their sons from tree to tree until at last they came to the place
where the mubboos had stood. They saw the tracks of their sons beside the
places whence the trees had been uprooted, but of the trees and their sons
they saw no further trace. Then they knew that they had all been borne up
together by the whirlwind, and taken whither they knew not. Sadly they
returned to their camp. When night came they heard cries which they
recognised as made by the voices of their sons, though they sounded as if
coming from the sky. As the cries sounded again the mothers looked up whence
they came, and there they saw the mubboo trees with their sons beside them.
Then well they knew that they would see no more their sons on earth, and
great was their grief, and wroth were they with their husband, for well they
knew now that he must have been the devil in the whirlwind, who had so
punished the boys. They vowed to avenge the loss of their boys.
The next day they went out and gathered a lot of pine gum, and brought it
back to the camp. When they reached the camp the old man called to one of
his wives to come and tease his hair, as his head ached, and that alone
would relieve the pain. One of the women went over to him, took his head on
her lap, and teased his hair until at last the old man was soothed and
sleepy. In the meantime the other wife was melting the gum. The one with the
old man gave her a secret sign to come near; then she asked the old man to
lie on his back, that she might tease his front hair better. As he did so,
she signed to the other woman, who quickly came, gave her some of the melted
gum, which they both then poured hot into his eyes, filling them with it. In
agony the old man jumped up and ran about, calling out, "Mooregoo,
mooregoo," as he ran. Out of the camp he ran and far away, still crying out
in his agony, as he went. And never again did his wives see him though every
night they heard his cry of "Mooregoo, mooregoo." But though they never saw
their husband, they saw a night hawk, the Mopoke, and as that cried always,
"Mooregoo, moregoo," as their husband had cried in his agony, they knew that
he must have turned into the bird.
After a time the women were changed into Mooninguggahgul, or mosquito birds.
These birds arc marked on the wings just like a mosquito, and every summer
night you can hear them cry out incessantly, "Mooninguggahgul," which cry is
the call for the mosquitoes to answer by coming out and buzzing in chorus.
And as quickly the mosquitoes come out in answer to the summons, the
Mooninguggahgul bid them fly everywhere and bite all they can.
Bougoodoogahdah the Rain Bird
BOUGOODOOGAHDAH was all old woman who lived alone with her four hundred
dingoes. From living so long with these dogs she had grown not to care for
her fellow creatures except as food. She and the dogs lived on human flesh,
and it was her cunning which gained such food for them all. She would sally
forth from her camp with her two little dogs; she would be sure to meet some
black fellows, probably twenty or thirty, going down to the creek. She would
say, "I can tell you where there are lots of paddy melons." They would ask
where, and she would answer, "Over there, on the point of that moorillah or
ridge. If you will go there and have your nullahs ready, I will go with my
two dogs and round them up towards you."
The black fellows invariably stationed themselves where she had told them,
and off went Bougoodoogahdah and her two dogs. But not to round up the paddy
melons. She went quickly towards her camp, calling softly, "Birree, gougou,"
which meant "Sool 'em, sool 'em," and was the signal for the dogs to come
out. Quickly they came and surrounded the black fellows, took them by
surprise, flew at them, bit and worried them to death. Then they and
Bougoodoogahdah dragged the bodies to their camp. There they were cooked and
were food for the old woman and the dogs for some time. As soon as the
supply was finished the same plan to obtain more was repeated.
The black fellows missed so many of their friends that they determined to
find out what had become of them. They began to suspect the old woman who
lived alone and hunted over the moorillahs with her two little dogs. They
proposed that the next party that went to the creek should divide and some
stay behind in hiding and watch what went on. Those watching saw the old
woman advance towards their friends, talk to them for a while, and then go
off with her two dogs. They saw their friends station themselves at the
point of the moorillah or ridge, holding their nullahs in readiness, as if
waiting for something to come. Presently they heard a low cry from the old
woman of "Birree gougou," which cry was quickly followed by dingoes coming
out of the bush in every direction, in hundreds, surrounding the black
fellows at the point.
The dingoes closed in, quickly hemming the black fellows in all round; then
they made a simultaneous rush at them, tore them with their teeth, and
killed them.
The black fellows watching, saw that when the dogs had killed their friends
they were joined by the old woman, who helped them to drag off the bodies to
their camp.
Having seen all this, back went the watchers to their tribe and. told what
they had seen. All the tribes round mustered up and decided to execute a
swift vengeance. In order to do so, out they sallied well armed. A
detachment went on to entrap the dogs and Bougoodoogahdah. Then just when
the usual massacre of the blacks was to begin and the dogs were closing in
round them for the purpose, out rushed over two hundred black fellows, and
so effectual was their attack that every dog was killed, as well as
Bougoodoogahdah and her two little dogs.
The old woman lay where she had been slain, but as the blacks went away they
heard her cry "Bougoodoogahdah." So back they went and broke her bones,
first they broke her legs and then left her. But again as they went they
heard her cry "Bougoodoogahdah." Then back again they came, and again, until
at last every bone in her body was broken, but still she cried
"Bougoodoogahdah." So one man waited beside her to see whence came the
sound, for surely, they thought, she must be dead. He saw her heart move and
cry again "Bougoodoogahdah" and as it cried, out came a little bird from it.
This little bird runs on the moorillahs and calls at night
"Bougoodoogahdah." All day it stays in one place, and only at night comes
out. It is a little greyish bird, something like a weedah. The blacks call
it a rain-maker, for if any one steals its eggs it cries out incessantly
"Bougoodoogahdah" until in answer to its call the rain falls. And when the
country is stricken with a drought, the blacks loook for one of these little
birds, and finding it, chase it, until it cries aloud "Bougoodoogahdah,
Bougoodoogahdah" and when they hear its cry in the daytime they know the
rain will soon fall.
As the little bird flew from the heart of the woman, all the dead dingoes
were changed into snakes, many different kinds, all poisonous. The two
little dogs were changed into dayall minyah, a very small kind of carpet
snake, non-poisonous, for these two little dogs had never bitten the blacks
as the other dogs had done. At the points of the Moorillahs where
Bougoodoogahdah and her dingoes used to slay the blacks, are heaps of white
stones, which are supposed to be the fossilised bones of the massacred nien.
The Borah of Byamee
WORD had been passed from tribe to tribe, telling, how that the season was
good, there must be a great gathering of the tribes. And the place fixed for
the gathering was Googoorewon. The old men whispered that it should be the
occasion for a borah, but this the women must not know. Old Byamee, who was
a great Wirreenun, said he would take his two sons, Ghindahindahmoee and
Boomahoomahnowee, to the gathering of the tribes, for the time had come when
they should be made young men, that they might be free to marry wives, eat
emu flesh, and learn to be warriors.
As tribe after tribe arrived at Googoorewon, each took up a position at one
of the various points of the ridges, surrounding the clear open space where
the corrobborees were to be. The Wähn, crows, had one point; the Dummerh,
pigeons, another; the Mahthi, dogs, another, and so on; Byamee and his
tribe, Byahmul the black swans tribe, Oooboon, the blue tongued lizard, and
many other chiefs and their tribes, each had their camp on a different
point. When all had arrived there were hundreds and hundreds assembled, and
many and varied were the nightly corrobborees, each tribe trying to excel
the other in the fancifulness of their painted get-up, and the novelty of
their newest song and dance. By day there was much hunting and feasting, by
night much dancing and singing; pledges of friendship exchanged, a dillibag
for a boomerang, and so on; young daughters given to old warriors, old women
given to young men, unborn girls promised to old men, babies in arms
promised to grown men; many and diverse were the compacts entered into, and
always were the Wirreenun, or doctors of the tribes consulted.
After some days the Wirreenun told the men of the tribes that they were
going to hold a borah. But on no account must the innerh, or women, know.
Day by day they must all go forth as if to hunt and then prepare in secret
the borah ground. Out went the man each day. They cleared a very large
circle quite clear, then they built an earthen dam round this circle, and
cleared a pathway leading into the thick bush from the circle, and built a
dam on either side of this pathway.
When all these preparations were finished, they had, as usual, a corrobboree
at night. After this had been going on for some time, one of the old
Wirreenun walked right away from the crowd as if he were sulky. He went to
his camp, to where he was followed by another Wirreenun, and presently the
two old fellows began fighting. Suddenly, when the attention of the blacks
was fixed on this fight, there came a strange, whizzing, whirring noise from
the scrub round. The women and children shrank together, for the sudden,
uncanny noise frightened them. And they knew that it was made by the spirits
who were coming to assist at the initiation of the boys into young manhood.
The noise really sounded, if you had not the dread of spirits in your mind,
just as if some one had a circular piece of wood at the end of a string and
were whirling it round and round.
As the noise went on, the women said, in an awestricken tone, "Gurraymy,"
that is "borah devil," and clutched their children tighter to them. The boys
said "Gayandy," and their eyes extended with fear. "Gayandy " meant borah
devil too, but the women must not even use the same word as the boys and men
to express the borah spirit, for all concerning the mysteries of borah are
sacred from the ears, eyes, or tongues of women.
The next day a shift was made of the camps. They were moved to inside the
big ring that the black fellows had made. This move was attended with a
certain amount of ceremony. In the afternoon, before the move had taken
place, all the black fellows left their camps and went away into the scrub.
Then just about sundown they were all to be seen walking in single file out
of the scrub, along the path which they had previously banked on each side.
Every man had a fire stick in one hand and a green switch in the other. When
these men reached the middle of the enclosed ring was the time for the young
people and women to leave the old camps, and move into the borah ring.
Inside this ring they made their camps, had their suppers and corrobboreed,
as on previous evenings, up to a certain stage. Before, on this occasion,
that stage arrived, Byamee, who was greatest of theWirreenun present, had
shown his power in a remarkable way. For some days the Mahthi had been
behaving with a great want of respect for the wise men of the tribes.
Instead of treating their sayings and doings with the silent awe the
Wirreenun expect, they had kept up an incessant chatter and laughter amongst
themselves, playing and shouting as if the tribes were not contemplating the
solemnisation of their most sacred rites. Frequently the Wirreenun sternly
bade them be silent. But admonitions were useless, gaily chattered and
laughed the Mahthi. At length Byamee, mightiest and most famous of the
Wirreenun, rose, strode over to the camp of Mahthi, and said fiercely to
them: "I, Byamee, whom all the tribes hold in honour, have thrice bade you
Mahthi cease your chatter and laughter. But you heeded me not. To my voice
were added the voices of the Wirreenun of other tribes. But you heeded not.
Think you the Wirreenun will make any of your tribe young men when you heed
not their words? No, I tell you. From this day forth no Mahthi shall speak
again as men speak. You wish to make noise, to be a noisy tribe and a
disturber of men; a tribe who cannot keep quiet when strangers are in the
camp; a tribe who understand not sacred things. So be it. You shall, and
your descendants, for ever make a noise, but it shall not be the noise of
speech, or the noise of laughter. It shall be the noise of barking and the
noise of howling. And from this day if ever a Mahthi speaks, woe to those
who hear him, for even as they hear shall they be turned to stone."
And as the Mahthi opened their mouths, and tried to laugh and speak derisive
words, they found, even as Byamee said, so were they. They could but bark
and howl; the powers of speech and laughter had they lost. And as they
realised their loss, into their eyes came a look of yearning and dumb
entreaty which will be seen in the eyes of their descendants for ever. A
feeling of wonder and awe fell on the various camps as they watched Byamce
march back to his tribe.
When Byamee was seated again in his camp, he asked the women why they were
not grinding doonburr. And the women said: "Gone are our dayoorls, and we
know not where."
"You lie," said Byamee. "You have lent them to the Dummerh, who came so
often to borrow, though I bade you not lend."
"No, Byamee, we lent them not."
"Go to the camp of the Dummerh, and ask for your dayoorl."
The women, with the fear of the fate of the Mahthi did they disobey, went,
though well they knew they had not lent the dayoorl. As they went they asked
at each camp if the tribe there would lend them a dayoorl, but at each camp
they were given the same answer, namely, that the dayoorls were gone and
none knew where. The Dummerh had asked to borrow them, and in each instance
been refused, yet had the stones gone.
As the women went on they heard a strange noise, as of the cry of spirits, a
sound like a smothered "Oom, oom, oom, oom." The cry sounded high in the air
through the tops of trees, then low on the ground through the grasses, until
it seemed as if the spirits were everywhere. The women clutched tighter
their fire sticks, and said: "Let us go back. The Wondah are about," And
swiftly they sped towards their camp, hearing ever in the air the "Oom, oom,
oom " of the spirits.
They told Byamee that all the tribes had lost their dayoorls, and that the
spirits were about, and even as they spoke came the sound of "Oom, oom, oom,
oom," at the back of their own camp.
The women crouched together, but Byamee flashed a fire stick whence came the
sound, and as the light flashed on the place he saw no one, but stranger
than all, he saw two dayoorls moving along, and yet could see no one moving
them, and as the dayoorls moved swiftly away, louder and louder rose the
sound of "Oom, oom, oom, oom," until the air seemed full of invisible
spirits. Then Byamee knew that indeed the Wondah were about, and he too
clutched his fire stick and went back into his camp.
In the morning it was seen that not only were all the dayoorls gone, but the
camp of the Dummerh was empty and they too had gone. When no one would lend
the Dummerh dayoorls, they had said, "Then we can grind no doonburr unless
the Wondah bring us stones." And scarcely were the words said before they
saw a dayoorl moving towards them. At first they thought it was their own
skill which enabled them only to express a wish to have it realised. But as
dayoorl after dayoorl glided into their camp, and, passing through there,
moved on, and as they moved was the sound of "Oom, oom, oom, oom," to be
heard everywhere they knew it was the Wondah at work. And it was borne in
upon them that where the dayoorl went they must go, or they would anger the
spirits who had brought them through their camp.
They gathered up their belongings and followed in the track of the dayoorls,
which had cut a pathway from Googoorewon to Girrahween, down which in high
floods is now a water-course. From Girrahween, on the dayoorls went to
Dirangibirrah, and after them the Dummerh. Dirangibirrah is between
Brewarrina and Widda Murtee, and there the dayoorls piled themselves up into
a mountain, and there for the future had the blacks to go when they wanted
good dayoorls. And the Dummerh were changed into pigeons, with a cry like
the spirits of "Oom, oom, oom."
Another strange thing happened at this big borah. A tribe, called Ooboon,
were camped at some distance from the other tribes. When any stranger went
to their camp, it was noticed that the chief of the Ooboon would come out
and flash a light on him, which killed him instantly. And no one knew what
this light was, that carried death in its gleam. At last, Wähn the crow,
said "I will take my biggest booreen and go and see what this means. You
others, do not follow me too closely, for though I have planned how to save
myself from the deadly gleam, I might not be able to save you."
Wähn walked into the camp of the Ooboon, and as their chief turned to flash
the light on him, he put up his booreen and completely shaded himself from
it, and called aloud in a deep voice "Wäh, wäh, wäh, wäh " which so startled
Ooboon that he dropped his light, and said "What is the matter? You startled
me. I did not know who you were and might have hurt you, though I had no
wish to, for the Wähn are my friends."
"I cannot stop now," said the Wähn, "I must go back to my camp. I have
forgotten something I wanted to show you. I'll be back soon." And so saying,
swiftly ran Wähn back to where he had left his boondee, then back he came
almost before Ooboon realised that he had gone. Back he came, and stealing
up behind Ooboon dealt him a blow with his boondee that avenged amply the
victims of the deadly light, by stretching the chief of the Ooboon a corpse
on the ground at his feet. Then crying triumphantly, "Wäh, wäh, wäh," back
to his camp went Wähn and told what he had done.
This night, when the Borah corrobboree began, all the women relations of the
boys to be made young men, corrobboreed all night. Towards the end of the
night all the young women were ordered into bough humpies, which had been
previously made all round the edge of the embankment surrounding the ring.
The old women stayed on.
The men who were to have charge of the boys to be made young men, were told
now to be ready to seize hold each of his special charge, to carry him off
down the beaten track to the scrub. When every man had, at a signal, taken
his charge on his shoulder, they all started dancing round the ring. Then
the old women were told to come and say good-bye to the boys, after which
they were ordered to join the young women in the humpies. About five men
watched them into the humpies, then pulled the boughs down on the top of
them that they might see nothing further.
When the women were safely imprisoned beneath the boughs, the men carrying
the boys swiftly disappeared down the track into the scrub. When they were
out of sight the five black fellows came and pulled the boughs away and
released the women, who went now to their camps. But however curious these
women were as to what rites attended the boys' initiation into manhood, they
knew no questions would elicit any information. In some months' time they
might see their boys return minus, perhaps, a front tooth, and with some
extra scarifications on their bodies, but beyond that, and a knowledge of
the fact that they had not been allowed to look on the face of woman since
their disappearance into the scrub, they were never enlightened.
The next day the tribes made ready to travel to the place of the little
borah, which would be held in about four days' time, at about ten or twelve
miles distance from the scene of the big borah.
At the place of the little borah a ring of grass is made instead of one of
earth. The tribes all travel together there, camp, and have a corrobboree.
The young women are sent to bed early, and the old women stay until the time
when the boys bade farewell to them at the big borah, at which hour the boys
are brought into the little borah and allowed to say a last good-bye to the
old women. Then they are taken away by the men who have charge of them
together. They stay together for a short time, then probably separate, each
man with his one boy going in a different direction. The man keeps strict
charge of the boy for at least six months, during which time he may not even
look at his own mother. At the end of about six months he may come back to
his tribe, but the effect of his isolation is that he is too wild and
frightened to speak even to his mother, from whom he runs away if she
approaches him, until by degrees the strangeness wears off.
But at this borah of Byamee the tribes were not destined to meet the boys at
the little borah. just as they were gathering up their goods for a start,
into the camp staggered Millindooloonubbah, the widow, crying, "You all left
me, widow that I was, with my large family of children, to travel alone. How
could the little feet of my children keep up to you? Can my back bear more
than one goolay? Have I more than two arms and one back? Then how could I
come swiftly with so many children? Yet none of you stayed to help me. And
as you went from each water hole you drank all the water. When, tired and
thirsty, I reached a water hole and my children cried for a drink, what did
I find to give them? Mud, only mud. Then thirsty and worn, my children
crying and their mother helpless to comfort them; on we came to the next
hole. What did we see, as we strained our eyes to find water? Mud, only mud.
As we reached hole after hole and found only mud, one by one my children
laid down and died; died for want of a drink, which Millindooloonubbah their
mother could not give them."
As she spoke, swiftly went a woman to her with a wirree of water. "Too late,
too late," she said. "Why should a mother live when her children are dead?"
And she lay back with a groan. But as she felt the water cool her parched
lips and soften her swollen tongue, she made a final effort, rose to her
feet, and waving her hands round the camps of the tribes, cried aloud: "You
were in such haste to get here. You shall stay here. Googoolguyyah.
Googoolguyyah. Turn into trees. Turn into trees." Then back she fell, dead.
And as she fell, the tribes that were standing round the edge of the ring,
preparatory to gathering their goods and going, and that her hand pointed to
as it waved round, turned into trees. There they now stand. The tribes in
the background were changed each according to the name they were known by,
into that bird or beast of the same name. The barking Mahthi into dogs; the
Byahmul into black swans: the Wähns into crows, and so on. And there at the
place of the big borah, you can see the trees standing tall and gaunt, sad-
looking in their sombre hues, waving with a sad wailing their branches
towards the lake which covers now the place where the borah was held. And it
bears the name of Googoorewon, the place of trees, and round the edge of it
is still to be seen the remains of the borah ring of earth. And it is known
as a great place of meeting for the birds that bear the names of the tribes
of old. The Byahmuls sail proudly about; the pelicans, their water rivals in
point of size and beauty; the ducks, and many others too numerous to
mention. The Ooboon, or blue-tongued lizards, glide in and out through the
grass. Now and then is heard the "Oom, oom, oom," of the dummerh, and
occasionally a cry from the bird Millindooloonubbah of "Googoolguyyah,
googoolguyyah." And in answer comes the wailing of the gloomy-looking balah
trees, and then a rustling shirr through the bibbil branches, until at last
every tree gives forth its voice and makes sad the margin of the lake with
echoes of the past.
But the men and boys who were at the place of the little borah escaped the
metamorphosis. Theywaited long for the arrival of the tribes who never came.
At last Byamee said: "Surely mighty enemies have slain our ftiends, and not
one escapes to tell us of their fate. Even now these enemies may be upon our
track; let us go into a far country."
And swiftly they went to Noondoo. Hurrying along with them, a dog of
Byamee's, which would fain have lain by the roadside rather than have
travelled so swiftly, but Byamee would not leave her and hurried her on.
When they reached the springs of Noondoo, the dog sneaked away into a thick
scrub, and there were born her litter of pups. But such pups as surely man
never looked at before. The bodies of dogs, and the heads of pigs, and the
fierceness and strength of devils. And gone is the life of a man who meets
in a scrub of Noondoo an earmoonän, for surely will it slay him. Not even
did Byamee ever dare to go near the breed of his old dog. And Byamee, the
mighty Wirreenun, lives for ever. But no man must look upon his face, lest
surely will he die. So alone in a thick scrub, on one of the Noondoo ridges,
lives this old man, Byamee, the mightiest of Wirreenun.
Bunnyyarl the Flies and Wurrunnunnah the Bees
THE Bunnyyarl and Wurrunnunnah were relations, and lived in one camp. The
Wurrunnunnah were very hardworking, always trying to gather food in a time
of plenty, to lay in a store for a time of famine. The Bunnyyarl used to
give no heed to the future, but used to waste their time playing round any
rubbish, and never thinking even of laying up any provisions. One day the
Wurrunnunnah said, "Come out with us and gather honey from flowers. Soon
will the winter winds blow the flowers away, and there will be no more honey
to gather."
" No," said the Bunnyyarl, " we have something to look to here." And off
they went, turning over some rubbish and wasting their time, knowing
whatever the Wurrunnunnah brought they would share with them. The
Wurrunnunnah went alone and left the Bunnyyarl to their rubbish. The
Wurrunnunnah gathered the flowers and stored the honey, and never more went
back to live with the Bunnyyarls, for they were tired of doing all the work.
As time went on the Wurrunnunnah were changed into little wild bees, and the
lazy Bunnyyarls were changed into flies.
Deegeenboyah the Soldier-bird
DEEGEENBOYAH was an old man, and getting past hunting much for himself; and
he found it hard to keep his two wives and his two daughters supplied with
food. He camped with his family away from the other tribes, but he used to
join the men of the Mullyan tribe when they were going out hunting, and so
get a more certain supply of food than if he had gone by himself. One day
when the Mullyan went out, he was too late to accompany them. He hid in the
scrub and waited for their return, at some little distance from their camp.
When they were coming back he heard them singing the Song of the Setting
Emu, a song which whoever finds the first emu's nest of the season always
sings before getting back to the camp. Deegeenboyah jumped up as he heard
the song, and started towards the camp of the Mullyan singing the same song,
as if he too had found a nest. On they all went towards the camp sing
joyously:
Nurdoo, nurbber me derreen derreenbah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.
Garmbay booan yunnahdeh beahwah ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.
Gubbondee, dee, ee, ee, ee.
Neäh neïn gulbeejah, ah, ah, ah, ah."
Which song roughly translated means:
I saw it first amongst the young trees,
The white mark on its forehead,
The white mark that before I had only seen as the emus moved together in the
day-time.
Never did I see one camp before, only moving, moving always.
Now that we have found the nest
We must look out the ants do not get to the eggs.
If they crawl over them the eggs are spoilt."
As the last echo of the song died away, those in the camp took up the
refrain and sang it back to the hunters to let them know that they
understood that they had found the first emu's nest of the season.
When the hunters reached the camp, up came Deegeenboyah too. The Mullyans
turned to him, and said:
"Did you find an emu's nest too?"
"Yes," said Deegeenboyah, "I did. I think you must have found the same,
though after me, as I saw not your tracks. But I am older and stiff in my
limbs, so came not back so quickly. Tell me, where is your nest?"
"In the clump of the Goolahbahs, on the edge of the plain," said the
unsuspecting Mullyan.
"Ah, I thought so. That is mine. But what matter? We can share-there will be
plenty for all. We must get the net and go and camp near the nest to-night,
and to-morrow trap the emu."
The Mullyan got their emu trapping net, one made of thin rope about as thick
as a thin clothes line, about five feet high, and between two and three
hundred yards long. And off they set, accompanied by Deegeenboyah, to camp
near where the emu was setting. When they had chosen a place to camp, they
had their supper and a little corrobborce, illustrative of slaying emu, etc.
The next morning at daylight they erected their net into a sort of
triangular shaped yard, one side open. Black fellows were stationed at each
end of the net, and at stated distances along it. The net was upheld by
upright poles. When the net was fixed, some of the blacks made a wide circle
round the emu's nest, leaving open the side towards the net. They closed in
gradually until they frightened the emu off the nest. The emu seeing black
fellows on every side but one, ran in that direction. The blacks followed
closely, and the bird was soon yarded. Madly the frightened bird rushed
against the net. Up ran a black fellow, seized the bird and wrung its neck.
Then some of them went back to the nest to get the eggs, which they baked in
the ashes of their fire and ate. They made a hole to cook the emu in. They
plucked the emu. When they had plenty of coals, they put a thick layer at
the bottom of the hole, some twigs of leaves on top of the coals, some
feathers on the top of them. Then they laid the emu in, more feathers on the
top of it, leaves again on top of them, and over them a thick layer of
coals, and lastly they covered all with earth.
It would be several hours in cooking, so Deegeenboyah said, "I will stay and
cook the emu, you young fellows take moonoons-emu spears-and try and get
some more emu."
The Mullyan thought there was sense in this proposal, so they took a couple
of long spears, with a jagged nick at one end, to hold the emu when they
speared it; they stuck a few emu feathers on the end of each spear and went
off. They soon saw a flock of emu coming past where they were waiting to
water. Two of the party armed with the moonoon climbed a tree, broke some
boughs and put these thickly beneath them, so as to screen them from the
emu. Then as the emu came near to the men they dangled down their spears,
letting the emu feathers on the ends wave to and fro. The emu, seeing the
feathers, were curious as to how they got there, came over, craning their
necks and sniffing right underneath the spears. The black fellows tightly
grasped the moonoons and drove them with force into the two emu they had
picked One emu dropped dead at once. The other ran with the spear in it for
a short distance, but the black fellow was quickly after it, and soon caught
and killed it outright. Then carrying the dead birds, back they went to
where Deegeenboyah was cooking the other emu. They cooked the two they had
brought, and then all started for the camp in great spirits at their
successful chase. They began throwing their mooroolahs as they went along,
and playing with their bubberahs, or returning boomerangs. Old Deegeenboyah
said, "Here, give me the emus to carry, and then you will be free to have a
really good game with your mooroolahs and bubberahs, and see who is the best
man."
They gave him the emus, and on they went, some throwing mooroolahs, and some
showing their skill with bubberahs. Presently Deegeenboyah sat down. They
thought he was just resting for a few minutes, so ran on laughing and
playing, each good throw eliciting another effort, for none liked owning
themselves beaten while they had a mooroolah left. As they got further away
-they noticed Deegeenboyah was still sitting down, so they called out to him
to know what was the matter. "All right," he said, "only having a rest;
shall come on in a minute." So on they went. When they were quite out of
sight Deegeenboyah jumped up quickly, took up the emus and made for an
opening in the ground at a little distance. This opening was the door of the
underground home of the Murgah Muggui spider-the opening was a neat
covering, like a sort of trap door. Down though this he went, taking the
emus with him, knowing there was another exit at some distance, out of which
he could come up quite near his home, for it was the way he often took after
hunting.
The Mullyans went home and waited, but no sign of Deegeenboyah. Then back on
their tracks they went and called aloud, but got no answer, and saw no sign.
At last Mullyangah the chief of the Mullyans, said he would find him. Arming
himself with his boondees and spears, he went back to where he had last seen
Deegeenboyah sitting. He saw where his tracks turned off and where they
disappeared, but could not account for their disappearance, as he did not
notice the neat little trap-door of the Murgah Muggui. But he hunted round,
determined to scour the bush until he found him. At last he saw a camp. He
went up to it and saw only two little girls playing about, whom he knew were
the daughters of Deegeenboyah.
"Where is your father?" he asked them.
"Out hunting," they said.
"Which way does he come home?"
"Our father comes home out of this;" and they showed him the spiders' trap-
door.
"Where are your mothers?"
"Our mothers are out getting honey and yams." And off ran the little girls
to a leaning tree on which they played, running up its bent trunk.
Mullyangah went and stood where the trunk was highest from the ground and
said: "Now, little girls, run up to here and jump, and I will catch you.
jump one at a time."
Off jumped one of the girls towards his outstretched arms, which, as she
came towards him he dropped, and, stepping aside, let her come with her full
force to the ground where she lay dead. Then he called to the horror-
stricken child on the tree: "Come, jump. Your sister came too quickly. Wait
till I call, then jump."
"No, I am afraid."
"Come on, I will be ready this tirne. Now come."
"I am afraid."
"Come on; I am strong." And he smiled quite kindly up at the child, who,
hesitating no longer, jumped towards his arms, only to meet her sister's
fate.
"Now," said Mullyangah, "here come the two wives. I must silence them, or
when they see their children their cries will warn their husband if he is
within earshot." So he sneaked behind a tree, and as the two wives passed he
struck them dead with his spears. Then he went to the trapdoor that the
children had shown him, and sat down to wait for the coming of Deegeenboyah.
He had not long to wait. The trap-door was pushed up and out came a cooked
eniu, which he caught hold of and laid on one side. Deegeenboyah thought it
was the girls taking it, as they had often watched for his coming and done
before, so he pushed up another, which Mullyangah took, then a third, and
lastly came up himself, to find Mullyangah confronting him spear and boondee
in hand. He started back, but the trap-door was shut behind him, and
Mullyangah barred his escape in front.
"Ah," said Mullyangah, "you stole our food and now you shall die. I've
killed your children."
Decgeenboyah looked wildly round, and, seeing the dead bodies of his girls
beneath the leaning tree, he groaned aloud.
"And," went on Mullyangah, "I've killed your wives."
Deegenboyah raised his head and looked again wildly round, and there, on
their homeward path, he saw his dead wives. Then he called aloud, "Here
Mullyangah are your emus; take them and spare me. I shall steal no more, for
I myself want little, but my children and my wives hungred. I but stole for
them. Spare me, I pray you. I am old; I shall not live long. Spare me."
"Not so," said Mullyangah, " no man lives to steal twice from a Mullyan;"
and, so saying, he speared Deegeenboyah where he stood. Then he lifted up
the emus, and, carrying them with him, went swiftly back to his camp.
And merry was the supper that night when the Mullyans ate the emus, and
Mullyangah told the story of his search and slaughter. And proud were the
Mullyans of the prowess and cunning of their chief.
Mayrah, the Wind that Blows the Winter Away
AT the beginning of winter, the iguanas hide themselves in their homes in
the sand; the black eagle hawks go into their nests; the garbarlee or
shingle-backs hide themselves in little logs, just big enough to hold them;
the iguanas dig a long way into the sand and cover up the passage behind
them, as they go along. They all stay in their winter homes until Mayrah
blows the winter away. Mayrah first blows up a thunderstorm. When the
iguanas hear the thunder, they know the spring is not far off, so they begin
making a passage to go out again, but they do not leave their winter home
until the Curreequinquin, or butcher birds sing all day almost without
ceasing "Goore, goore, goore, goore." Then they know that Mayrah has really
blown the winter away, for the birds are beginning to pair and build their
nests. So they open their eyes and come out on the green earth again. And
when the black fellows hear the curreequinquins singing "Goore, goore," they
know that they can go out and find iguanas again, and find them fatter than
when they went away with the coming of winter. Then, too, will they find
piggiebillahs hurrying along to get away from their young ones, which they
have buried in the sand and left to shift for themselves, for no longer can
they carry them, as the spines of the young ones begin to prick them in
their pouch. So they leave them and hurry away, that they may not hear their
cry. They know they shall meet them again later on, when they are grown big.
Then as Mayrah softly blows, the flowers one by one open, and the bees come
out again to gather honey. Every bird wears his gayest plumage and sings his
sweetest song to attract a mate, and in pairs they go to build their nests.
And still Mayrah softly blows until the land is one of plenty; then Yhi the
sun chases her back whence she came, and the flowers droop and the birds
sing only in the early morning. For Yhi rules in the land until the storms
are over and have cooled him, and winter takes his place to be blown away
again by Mayrah the loved of all, and the bringer of plenty.
Wayarnbeh the Turtle
OOLAH, the lizard, was out getting yams on a Mirrieh flat. She had three of
her children with her. Suddenly she thought she heard some one moving behind
the big Mirrieh bushes. She listened. All of a sudden out jumped Wayambeh
from behind a bush and seized Oolah, telling her not to make a noise and he
would not hurt her, but that he meant to take her off to his camp to be his
wife. He would take her three children too and look after them. Resistance
was useless, for Oolah had only her yam stick, while Wayambeh had his spears
and boondees. Wayambeh took the woman and her children to his camp. His
tribe when they saw him bring home a woman of the Oolah tribe, asked him if
her tribe had given her to him. He said, "No, I have stolen her."
"Well," they said, "her tribe will soon be after her; you must protect
yourself; we shall not fight for you. You had no right to steal her without
telling us. We had a young woman of our own tribe for you, yet you go and
steal an Oolah and bring her to the camp of the Wayambeh. On your own head
be the consequences."
In a short time the Oolahs were seen coming across the plain which faced the
camp of the Wayambeh. And they came not in friendship or to parley, for no
women were with them, and they carried no boughs of peace in their bands,
but were painted as for war, and were armed with fighting weapons.
When the Wayambeh saw the approach of the Oolah, their chief said: "Now,
Wayambeh, you had better go out on to the plain and do your own fighting; we
shall not help you."
Wayambeh chose the two biggest boreens that he had; one he slung on him,
covering the front of his body, and one the back; then, seizing his weapons,
he strode out to meet his enemies.
When he was well out on to the plain, though still some distance from the
Oolah, he called out, "Come on."
The answer was a shower of spears and boomerangs. As they came whizzing
through the air Wayambeh drew his arms inside the boreens, and ducked his
head down between them, so escaped.
As the weapons fell harmless to the ground, glancing off his boreen, out
again he stretched his arms and held up again his head, shouting, "Come on,
try again, I'm ready."
The answer was another shower of weapons, which he met in the same way. At
last the Oolahs closed in round him, forcing him to retreat towards the
creek.
Shower after shower of weapons they slung at him, and were getting at such
close quarters that his only chance was to dive into the creek. He turned
towards the creek, tore the front boreen off him, flung down his weapons and
plunged in.
The Oolah waited, spears poised in hand, ready to aim directly his head
appeared above water, but they waited in vain. Wayambeh, the black fellow,
they never saw again, but in the waterhole wherein he had dived they saw a
strange creature, which bore on its back a fixed structure like a boreen,
and which, when they went to try and catch it, drew in its head and limbs,
so they said, "It is Wayambeh." And this was the beginning of Wayambeh, or
turtle, in the creeks.
Wirreenun the Rainmaker
THE country was stricken with a drought. The rivers were all dry except the
deepest holes in them. The grass was dead, and even the trees were dying.
The bark dardurr of the blacks were all fallen to the ground and lay there
rotting, so long was it since they had been used, for only in wet weather
did the blacks use the bark dardurr; at other times they used only
whatdooral, or bough shades.
The young men of the Noongahburrah murmured among themselves, at first
secretly, at last openly, saying: "Did not our fathers always say that the
Wirreenun could make, as we wanted it, the rain to fall? Yet look at our
country -the grass blown away, no doonburr seed to grind, the kangaroo are
dying, and the emu, the duck, and the swan have flown to far countries. We
shall have no food soon; then shall we die, and the Noongahburrah be no more
seen on the Narrin. Then why, if he is able, does not Wirreenun inake rain?"
Soon these murmurs reached the ears of the old Wirreenun. He said nothing,
but the young fellows noticed that for two or three days in succession he
went to the waterhole in the creek and placed in it a willgoo willgoo-a long
stick, ornamented at the top with white cockatoo feathers-and beside the
stick he placed two big gubberah, that is, two big, clear pebbles which at
other times he always secreted about him, in the folds of his waywah, or in
the band or net on his head. Especially was he careful to hide these stones
from the women.
At the end of the third day Wirreenun said to the young men: "Go you, take
your comeboos and cut bark sufficient to make dardurr for all the tribe."
The young men did as they were bade. When they had the bark cut and brought
in Wirreenun said: "Go you now and raise with ant-bed a high place, and put
thereon logs and wood for a fire, build the ant-bed about a foot from the
ground. Then put you a floor of ant-bed a foot high whereever you are going
to build a dardurr."
And they did what he told them. When the dardurr were finished, having high
floors of ant-bed and water-tight roofs of bark, Wirreenun commanded the
whole camp to come with him to the waterhole; men, women, and children; all
were to come. They all followed him down to the creek, to the waterhole
where he had placed the willgoo willgoo and gubberah. Wirreenun jumped into
the water and bade the tribe follow him, which they did. There in the water
they all splashed and played about. After a little time Wirreenun went up
first behind one black fellow and then behind another, until at length he
had been round them all, and taken from the back of each one's head lumps of
charcoal. When he went up to each he appeared to suck the back or top of
their heads, and to draw out lumps of charcoal, which, as he sucked them
out, he spat into the water. When he had gone the round of all, he went out
of the water. But just as he got out a young man caught him up in his arms
and threw him back into the water. This happened several times, until
Wirreenun was shivering. That was the signal for all to leave the creek.
Wirreenun sent all the young people into a big bough shed, and bade them all
go to sleep. He and two old men and two old women stayed outside. They
loaded themselves with all their belongings piled up on their backs, dayoorl
stones and all, as if ready for a flitting. These old people walked
impatiently around the bough shed as if waiting a signal to start somewhere.
Soon a big black cloud appeared on the horizon, first a single cloud, which,
however, was soon followed by others rising all round. They rose quickly
until they all met just overhead, forming a big black mass of clouds. As
soon as this big, heavy, rainladen looking cloud was stationary overhead,
the old people went into the bough shed and bade the young people wake up
and come out and look at the sky. When they were all roused Wirreenun told
them to lose no time, but to gather together all their possessions and
hasten to gain the shelter of the bark dardurr. Scarcely were they all in
the dardurrs and their spears well hidden when there sounded a terrific clap
of thunder, which was quickly followed by a regular cannonade, lightning
flashes shooting across the sky, followed by instantaneous claps of
deafening thunder. A sudden flash of lightning, which lit a pathway, from
heaven to earth, was followed by such a terrific clash that the blacks
thought their very camps were struck. But it was a tree a little distance
off. The blacks huddled together in their dardurrs, frightened to move, the
children crying with fear, and the dogs crouching towards their owners.
"We shall be killed," shrieked the women. The men said nothing but looked as
frightened.
Only Wirreenun was fearless. "I will go out," he said, "and stop the storm
from hurting us. The lightning shall come no nearer."
So out in front of the dardurrs strode Wirreenun, and naked he stood there
facing the storm, singing aloud, as the thunder roared and the lightning
flashed, the chant which was to keep it away from the camp
"Gurreemooray, mooray,
Durreemooray, mooray, mooray," &c.
Soon came a lull in the cannonade, a slight breeze stirred the trees for a
few moments, then an oppressive silence, and then the rain in real earnest
began, and settled down to a steady downpour, which lasted for some days.
When the old people had been patrolling the bough shed as the clouds rose
overhead, Wirreenun had gone to the waterhole and taken out the willgoo
willgoo and the stones, for he saw by the cloud that their work was done.
When the rain was over and the country all green again, the blacks had a
great corrobboree and sang of the skill of Wirreenun, rainmaker to the
Noongahburrah.
Wirreenun sat calm and heedless of their praise, as he had been of their
murmurs. But he determined to show them that his powers were great, so he
summoned the rainmaker of a neighbouring tribe, and after some consultation
with him, he ordered the tribes to go to the Googoorewon, which was then a
dry plain, with the solemn, gaunt trees all round it, which had once been
black fellows.
When they were all camped round the edges of this plain, Wirreenun and his
fellow rainmaker made a great rain to fall just over the plain and fill it
with water.
When the plain was changed into a lake, Wirreenun said to the young men of
his tribe: "Now take your nets and fish."
"What good?" said they. "The lake is filled from the rain, not the flood
water of rivers, filled but yesterday, how then shall there be fish?"
"Go," said Wirreenun. "Go as I bid you; fish. If your nets catch nothing
then shall Wirreenun speak no more to the men of his tribe, he will seek
only honey and yams with the women."
More to please the man who had changed their country from a desert to a
hunter's paradise, they did as he bade them, took their nets and went into
the lake. And the first time they drew their nets, they were heavy with
goodoo, murree, tucki, and bunmillah. And so many did they catch that all
the tribes, and their dogs, had plenty.
Then the elders of the camp said now that there was plenty everywhere, they
would have a borah that the boys should be made young men. On one of the
ridges away from the camp, that the women should not know, would they
prepare a ground.
And so was the big borah of the Googoorewon held, the borah which was famous
as following on the triumph of Wirreenun the rainmaker.
Appendix
EDITOR and Publisher have gratefully accepted a suggestion made by Dr. E. B.
Tylor, that the philologist would be thankful for a specimen of these tales
in their native form.
DINEWAN BOOLLARHNAH GOOMBLEGUBBON
Dinewan boorool diggayah gillunnee. Nahmerhneh boorool doorunmai.
Goomblegubbon boolwarrunnee. Goomblegubbon numbardee boorool boolwarrunnee
Dinewan numbardee. Baiyan noo nurruldundi gunnoonah burraylundi nurreebah
burri bunnagullundi. Goomblegubbondoo winnanullunnee dirrah dungah nah
gillunnee, Dinewandoo boonoong noo beonemuldundi.
Goomblegubbondoo winnanullunnee gullarh naiyahneh gwallee Dinewan gimbelah:
"Wahl ninderh doorunmai gillaygoo. Baiyan noo winnanunnee boonoong
gurrahgoo, wahlneh burraylaygoo. Wahl butndi naiyah boorool gillunnah
boomahleegooneh naiyah butthdinen woggee gwallee myrenay boonoong gillundi."
Illah noo nurray Dinewan nahwandi. Goomblegubbon lowannee boonooog noo
wunnee wooee baiyan nurrunnee bonyehdool. Baiyan boollarhgneh gwalleelunnee.
Goomblegubbondoo gooway:
"Minyah goo ninderh wahl boonoong dulleebah gillunnee? Gunnoono diggayah
burraylunneh. Wahl boonoong ninderh doorunmai. Myrenay boonoong gillunneh
Gunnoogoo nunnahlah doorunmai gimbehlee." Dinewandoo gooway "Gheerh ninderh
boonoong bayyi."
"Wahl."
Nahnee Dinewan noonoo meer gullahgeh. Baiyan boollarhneh budtnah ginnee.
Boonoong butndi nullee gurray wahl Goomblegubbon doorunmai giggee.
Dinewandoo gooneejayn gooway cooleer noo noo boonoong gurrahlee goo comeboo
goo.
Baiyan noo gaiathah noonoo boonoong gurray. Baiyan, neh bunnerhgahoonee
Goomblegubbon. Dinewan gooway Goomblegubbon:
"Boonoong nayr gurray." Goomblegubbon gindabnunnee, barnee, bunna gunnee
dirrah gunnee numerhneh. Boonoong beeyonemay, baiyan noo gooway Dinewan.
"Dungneemay ninnerhneh nayr byjundool boonoong. Mayerboo nay, nay boonoong,
gurrah wahl dunerh. Wombah ninderh byjundool boonoong." Dinewan bunna gunnee
boomahlee-goo Goomblegubbon, baiyan Goomblegubbon burrunnee. Narahgahdool
myrenay boonoong. Baiyan Dinewan eelaynerhginnee nahnee illah nayahe
ninnernah gullahrah gimbehlee. Illah lah noo noo winnanunnee. Baiyan noo
doorimbai birrahleegul boollarhyel nuddahnooway booroolah binnamayahgahway.
Baiyan neh moorillah die gahraymo noo-noo, boollarh noo garwannee. Baiyan
neh woggee goo nahnee. Goomblegubbondoo birrahleegul oodundi gunoonoo
garwil. Baiyan boollarhgneh gwallannee. Dinewan gooway Goomblegubbon."
"Minyah goo ninderh booroolah birrahleegulgah gillunnah. Wahl ninder
booroolah goo garwil ooday. Tuggil ninderh boollarhyel gargillay baiyan
boollarhgnah, booral giggee, wahl ninderh booroolah goo gooloon marlday."
Goomblegubbon buthdi ginnee nalmee.
"Gullarh nayr nay birrahleegul boorool luggeray Dinewan? Boollarhyel nay
gillundi yahmerh boollarhgnah boorool giggee luggeray Dinewan."
Winnanunnee noo dungeway. Baiyan noo nurray Dinewan, nurray noo boorool.
Baiyan noo gooway:
"Boomahlee doo gunnoono boollarhyel nayr gurrahwulday. Dinewan wahl
doorunmai gillay woggee goo. Goomblegubbon weel gillay doorunmai.
Goomblegubbon boorool giggee luggeray Dinewun, boonoong gunnoo goo
gurrahwulday. Baiyan noo boomay gunnoono birrahlee gul boollarhyel noo
gurrahway. Baiyanneh durrahwallunee nummerh nayr Dinewan doo duldundigoo.
Dinewandoo guggay."
"Minyah ninnoo birrahleegul?"
"Gunnoono nayr boomay boollarhyel gargillunnah."
"Wullundoo youlloo ninderh boomay! Booroolah nay birrahleegul, gooloonmul
dunnerli nayr gunnoonoo. Booroolah gunnoonoo. Nurraleh noill doowar yu
booloobunnee. Nurraleh boonboon. Nummerh nayr bayah muldunnerh nay birrahlee
gulloo."
"Boollarhyel ninnoo birrahlee garlee."
"Booroolah boollarh nay. Nayr di gargee ninnoonderh nurranmullee goo."
Dinewan bunnagunnee binnamayahgoo nayr noo doorimbundigoo birrableegul.
Baiyan naiyah durrabwullunee, dirralabeel ginnee noo boobootella, gwallandy,
"Boom, boom." Birrahleegul noo noo bunna gairlehwahndi, beweererh
nurrahwahndi, weeleer, weerleeer, Tuwerh munneh doorundi, baiyanneh eelay
nurrunnee. Baiyan noo gooway.
"Geeroo nayr ninnunnerh gooway. Gunnoono nayr nay birrahleegul
gurrahwuldunnerh. Nurullah Numerh nayr ninnoo nurragah birrahleegul! Boomay
ninderh ninnoo birrahleegul, ninderh nunnoo dung eemai! Tuggil nayr lahnylay
nayr boonoong ninderh boomah boollarhyel birrahleegarlee gargillay.
Gurrahwuldare ninnoo boonong nayr luggeeroo, gurrahwulday nay birrahleegul."
Mrs, Parker writes: "The old black woman who first told me the tale is away,
but I got another old woman of the pre-white era to tell it again to me
yesterday; it is almost the same, minus one of the descriptive touches
immaterial to the story as such; in fact, to all intents and purposes, the
same."
Glossary
Bahloo, moon.
Beeargah, hawk.
Beeleer, black cockatoo.
Beereeun, prickly lizard.
Bibbee, woodpecker, bird.
Bibbil, shiny-leaved box-tree.
Bilber, a large kind of rat.
Billai or Billay, crimson-wing parrot.
Bindeah, a prickle or sinall thorn.
Bingah wingul, needle bush, a tall thorny shrub.
Birrahgnooloo, woman's name, meaning "face like a tomahawk handle."
Birrahlee, baby.
Birrableegul, children.
Boobootella, the big bunch of feathers at the back of an emu.
Boolooral, an owl.
Boomerang, a curved weapon used in hunting and in warfare by the blacks;
called Burren by the Narran blacks.
Bootoolgah, blue-grey crane.
Borah, a large gathering of blacks where the boys are initiated into the
mysteries which make them young men.
Bou-gou-doo-gahdah, the rain bird. Like the bower or mocking bird.
Bouyou, legs.
Bowrah or Bohrah, kangaroo.
Bralgahs, native companion, bird.
Bubberah, boomerang that returns.
Buckandee, native cat.
Buggoo, flying squirrel.
Bulgahnunnoo, bark-backed.
Bumble, a fruit-bearing tree, sometimes called wild orange and sometimes
wild pomegranate tree. Capparis.
Bunbundoolooey, brown flock pigeon.
Bunnyyarl, flies.
Burreenjin, magpie, lark, or peewee
Budtha, rosewood-tree, also girl's name.
Byamee, man's name, meaning "big man."
Comebee, bag made of kangaroo skins.
Comeboo, stone tomahawk.
Cookooburrah, laughing jackass.
Coorigil, name of place, meaning sign of bees.
Corrobboree, black fellows' dance.
Cunnembeillee, woman's name, meaning pig-weed root.
Curree guin guin, butcher-bird.
Daen, black fellows.
Dardurr, bark, humpy or shed.
Dayah minyah, carpet snake.
Dayoorl, large flat stone for grinding grass seed upon.
Deegeenboyah, soldier-bird.
Decreeree, willy wagtail.
Dheal, the sacred tree of the Noongahburrahs, only used for putting on the
graves of the dead.
Dinewan, emu.
Dingo, native dog.
Doonburr, a grass seed.
Doongara, lightning.
Dummerh, pigeons.
Dungle, water hole.
Dunnia, wattle.
Durrie, bread made from grass seed.
Eär moonän, long sharp teeth.
Euloo marah, large tree grubs. Edible.
Euloo wirree, rainbow.
Galah or Gilah, a French grey and rose-coloured cockatoo.
Gayandy, borah devil.
Gidgereegah, a species of small parrot.
Girrahween, place of flowers.
Gooeea, warriors.
Googarh, iguana.
Googoolguyyah, turn into trees.
Googoorewon, place of trees.
Goolahbah, grey-leaved box-tree.
Goolahgool, water-holding tree.
Goolahwilleel, top-knot pigeon.
Gooloo, magpie.
Goomade, red stamp.
Goomai, water rat.
Goomblegubbon, bastard or plainturkey.
Goomillah, young girl's dress, consisting of waist strings made of opossum's
sinews with strands of woven oppossum's hair, hanging about a foot square in
front.
Goonur, kangaroo rat.
Goug gour gahgah, laughing-jackass. Literal meaning, "Take a stick."
Grooee, handsome foliaged tree bearing a plum-like fruit, tart and bitter,
but much liked by the blacks.
Gubberah, magical stones of Wirreenum. Clear crystallised quatty.
Guddah, red lizard,
Guiebet, a thorny creeper bearing masses of a lovely myrtle-like flower and
an edible fruit somewhat resembling passion fruit.
Guinary, light eagle hawk.
Guineboo, robin redbreast.
Gurraymy, borah devil.
Gwai, red.
Gwaibillah, star. Mars.
Kurreah, an alligator.
Mahthi, dog.
Maimah, stones.
Maira, paddy melon.
May or Mayr, wind.
Mayrah, spring wind.
Meainei, girls.
Midjee, a species of acacia.
Millair, species of kangaroo rat.
Moodai, opossum.
Moogaray, hailstones.
Mooninguggahgul, mosquito-calling bird.
Moonoon, emu spear.
Mooregoo, motoke.
Mooroonumildah, having no eyes.
Morilla or Moorillah, pebbly ridges.
Mubboo, beefwood-tree.
Mullyan, eagle hawk.
Mullyangah, the morning star.
Murgah muggui, big grey spider.
Murrawondah, climbing rat.
Narahdarn, bat.
Noongahburrah, tribe of blacks on the Narran.
Nullah nullah, a club or heavy-headed weapon.
Nurroo gay gay, dreadful pain.
Nyunnoo or Nunnoo, a grass humpy.
Ooboon, blue-tongued lizard.
Oolah, red prickly lizard.
Oongnairwah, black divcr.
Ouyan, curlew.
Piggiebillah, ant-eater. One of the Echidna, a marsupial.
Quarrian, a kind of parrot.
Quatha, quandong; a red fruit like a round red plum.
U e hu, rain, only so called in song.
Waligoo, to hide. A game like hide-and-seek.
Wahroogah, children.
Wahn, crow.
Wayambeh, turtle.
Waywah, worn by men, consisting of a waistband made of opossum's sinews with
bunches of strips of paddymelon skins hanging from it.
Weedall, bower or mocking-bird.
Weeownbeen, a small bird. Something like a redbreast, only with longer tail
and not so red a breast.
Widya nurrah, a wooden battleaxe shaped weapon.
Willgoo willgoo, pointed stick with feathers on top.
Wirree, small piece of bark, canoe-shaped.
Wirreenun, priest or doctor.
Womba, mad.
Wondah, spirit or ghost.
Wurranunnah, wild bees.
Wurrawilberoo, whirlwind with a devil in it; also clouds of Magellan.
Wurranunnah, bee.
Wurrunnah, man's name, meaning standing.
Yaraan, white gum-tree.
Yhi, the sun.
Yuckay, oh, dear!