n storms or lies at night."

"Back in the States," remarked Tom, "we hear much about the skill of
these fellows with the boomerang. I dare say a lot of these stories
are overdone."

"Possibly," said their host, "and yet it is a fact that these natives
are undoubtedly more adept at casting various forms of wooden
implements than any other people in the world. Their very indolence
leads them to adopt all sorts of easy-made weapons, and wood is surely
one of the most common materials for the purpose one could find. Clubs
of all kinds are hurled at prey or human enemies. Among these the
boomerang is a favorite. They have several forms. One type is very
light, round on one side and flat on the other, and slightly twisted on
its axis. It is used almost entirely for play, though sometimes to
hurl at flocks of birds in the sky. The war and hunting boomerangs are
much heavier; they are bent differently, and do not return to the
thrower, but are a deadly weapon in the hands of these bushmen at
ranges up to four hundred feet. But stone-pointed spears are their
chief weapons."

"With this skill I presume they have no trouble in securing enough to
eat," suggested Paul, sipping his cocoa.

"On the contrary, there are times when weather conditions, such as
drouth, make it a very difficult matter for some tribes to get
sufficient food. Then they will turn to human flesh, and will eat men
who have fallen to their weapons, or their own tribesmen who have
succumbed to disease or hunger. Even infants are sometimes killed and
eaten by their parents."

"Horrible!" cried the flyers. This seemed almost incredible, with
civilization in abundance so near.

"I agree with you," said Mr. Bailey, failing to notice his wife holding
up a protesting finger toward him. "Of course the blackfellow prefers
to have other foods when he can get them. The kangaroo, wallaby, and
opossum, form his chief food supply, but no animal or nourishing plant
is neglected. He even eats ants, caterpillars, moths, beetles, grubs,
snakes, lizards, often uncooked----"

At that point Mr. Bailey felt a sharp twist of his ear, and looking up,
found his wife gazing at him with a very severe expression.

"Thomas Bailey! You are a cannibal yourself! Where is your sense of
propriety? Have you lost your head in your interest in this subject?
Don't you know you are _eating_?--that you have guests here who are
also _eating_?"

"My! my! Goodness gracious!"