this?'
ANS. A stump that any one falls over.

'You cannot walk without me, yet you grease your body and forget me and
let me crack, even though but for me you could neither walk nor run.
Who says that?' ANS. A black fellow's feet, which he neglects to grease
when doing the rest of his body.

With riddles ends, I think, the list of the blacks' amusements, unless
you count fights. The blacks are a bit Celtic in that way; some are
real fire-eaters, always spoiling for a row. But in most everyday rows
the feelings are more damaged than the bodies.

An old gin in a rage will say more in a given time, without taking
breath, than any human being I have ever seen; it is simply
physiologically marvellous. From the noise you would think murder at
least would result. You listen in dread of a tragedy; you hear the
totem and multiplex totems of her opponent being scoffed at, strung out
one after another, deadly insult after deadly insult. The insulted
returns insult for insult; result, a lively cross fire.

It lulls down; the insults are exhausted, quietude reigns. Some one
makes a joke, all are laughing together in amity. From impending
tragedy to comedy the work of a few minutes. A mercurial race indeed,
but not a forgetful one. A black fellow never forgives a broken
promise, and he can cherish a grudge from generation to generation as
well as remember a kindness.

Though, when high pitched in quarrels, their voices lose their natural
tones, as a rule those of the blacks are remarkably sweet and soft,
quite musical; their language noticeable for its freedom from harsh
sounds.

CHAPTER XVI

BUSH BOGIES AND FINIS

Weeweemul is a big spirit that flies in the air; he takes the bodies of
dead people away and eats them. That is why the dead are so closely
watched before burial.

Gwaibooyanbooyan is the hairless red devil of the scrubs, who kills and
eats any one he meets, unless they are quick enough to get away before
he sees them, as one woman of this tribe is said to have done on the
Eurahbah ridge. It would really seem as if there were a debbil debbil
on that ridge; every boundary rider who lives there takes to drink. I
think the red spirit must be rum.

Marahgoo are man-shaped devils, to be recognised by the white swansdown
cap they wear, and the red rugs they carry. Red is a great devil's
colour amongst blacks some will never wear it on that account.

These Marahgoo always have with them a mysterious drink,