that the sight of the liquid might make him forget everything but his
own desire for it. Never again in his life was he to be called upon to
exercise such supreme self-control as he was that night.

Clutching the precious quart-pot to his breast, he staggered off into
the night, very slowly because of his weakness, and very slowly also
because it was hard for him to read the tracks in the dim light.

Less than half an hour after Sax left the camp to search for his dying
friend, a black form stole silently through the scrub and paused within
sight of the bough-shelter. If anybody had been lying there awake, he
would not have known how near a fellow human being was to him, for the
native was absolutely motionless, even to the eyelids. The only part
of hint which moved was the chest, which was so thickly covered with
black hair that its slow rising and falling could not possibly have
attracted attention at night. Even if any man who might have been in
the shelter had turned and looked straight at the black-fellow, he
would not have distinguished him from the trees, for, with that
wonderful power of imitation known only to the scrub natives of
Australia, the man was standing in such a way that he looked very much
like an old dead mulga stump.

But nobody was in the bough-shelter, and when the man had made quite
sure of this, he stepped out from his hiding. He was quite naked, and
carried a couple of long spears with stone heads, a woomera
(spear-thrower), a spiked boomerang, and a wooden shield. His long
hair was plastered up into a bunch at the back, and was kept in place
by rings of rope made of his mother's hair. He stood for a moment and
looked intently at the shelter, then he stooped and examined the marks
in the sand, following them this way and that till he knew as much
about the tragedy as if he had actually watched it happen. He was
particularly interested in Yarloo's tracks, and finally stuck a spear
into the middle of one of them and laid his other weapons beside it.

Having rid himself of all encumbrances, he set out on the tracks of the
two white boys. But what a difference between his methods and theirs!
Instead of the hesitating scrutiny of each footprint which Sax had been
obliged to make, the native walked quickly with his eyes several yards
ahead and did not pause once, though the star-light was dim and
treacherous.

He did not have far to go. The burst of strength which delirium had
given t