very long ago, before the white man came to conquer the land, a tribe of black people lived in a great forest. beyond their country was a range of mountains which separated them from another tribe of fierce and warlike blacks, and on one side they were bounded by the sea. they were a prosperous tribe, for not only was there plenty of game in the forest, to give them food and rugs of skins for clothing, but the sea gave them fish: and fish were useful both to eat and for their bones. the blacks made many things out of fish-bones, and found them very useful for tipping spears and other weapons.
being so powerful a tribe, they were not much molested by other blacks. the mountains to the north were their chief protection. no wandering parties of fighting men were likely to cross them and surprise the tribe, for they were steep and rugged and full of ravines and deep gullies that were difficult to cross, unless you knew the right tracks. the nearest tribe had come over more than once, and great battles had taken place; but the sea-tribe was always prepared, for the noise of their coming was too great to be hidden. there had been great fights, but the sea-tribe had always won. now they were too strong to fear any attack. so strong were they, indeed, that they did not trouble about fighting, but only wished to be peaceful. their life was a very simple and happy one, and they did not want anything better.
the tribe was called the baringa tribe, and the name of its chief was wadaro. he was a tall, silent man, very proud of his people and their country, and of his six big sons—all strong fighting-men, like himself—but most of all, he was proud of his daughter, miraga.
miraga was just of woman's age, and no girl in all the tribe was so beautiful. she was straight and supple as a young sapling, lissom as the tendrils of the clematis, and beautiful as the dawn striking on the face of the waters. her deep eyes were full of light, and she was always merry. the little children loved her, and used to bring her blossoms of the red native fuchsia, to twine in her glossy black hair.
most blacks, men and women, look on everything they meet with one thought. they ask, "is it good to eat?" but miraga was different. she had made friends with many of the little animals of the bush, and they were her playmates: bandicoots, shrew-mice, pouch-mice, kangaroo-rats, and other tiny things. they were quite easy to tame, if anyone tried; even snappy little yikaura, the native cat, with its spotted body and fierce sharp head, became quite gentle with miraga, and did not try to touch her other pets. she begged the tribe not to eat the animals she loved, and they consented. of course, in many tribes it would have been necessary to go on using them for food, and any woman who tried to save them would only have been laughed at. but the baringa folk had so much food that they could easily afford to spare these little furry things. besides, it was miraga who asked, and was she not the chief's daughter?
however, it was not only because she was the chief's daughter that the people loved miraga and did what she asked them. she was always kind and merry, and went about the camp singing happily, generally with a cluster of children running after her. if anyone were sick she was very good, bringing food and medicines. being the daughter of wadaro, the chief, she might have escaped all work; but instead, she did her share, and used to go out digging for yams and other roots with the other girls of the tribe, the happiest of them all.
the tribe beyond the northern hills was called the burrin. they were very fierce and had many fighting-men; but their country was not so good as that of the baringa, and they were very jealous of the happy sea-tribe. one time they came to the conclusion that it was long since they had had a fight—and that it would be a very good thing to try and win the baringa country. they did not want to go over the mountains unprepared. so they sent a picked band of young men, telling them to cross into the land of the baringas and find out if they were very strong, and if there were still much game in the forest. they were not to fight, but only to prowl in the forest and watch the sea-tribe stealthily. then they were to return over the mountains with their report, so that the head-men of the burrin could decide whether it were wise to send all their fighting-men over to try and conquer the baringa.
the little band of burrin men set off with great pride. their leader was the chief's son, yurong, who was stronger than any man of his tribe, and of a very fierce and cruel nature. he was not yet married, although that was only due to an accident. once he had been about to take a wife, and had gone to her camp and hit her on the head with a waddy, which was one of the blacks' customs in some tribes, before carrying her to his own wurley. but he hit too hard, and the poor girl died—which caused yurong a great deal of inconvenience, because her parents wanted to kill him too. it was only because he was the chief's son that he escaped with his life. now he was still unmarried, because no girl would look at him. it made yurong more bad-tempered than he was naturally, and that is saying a good deal. he had great hopes from the expedition into the baringa country. if he came back successful, and won a name for himself as a fighter, he thought that all the maidens of his tribe would admire him, and forget that he had been so ready with his stick when he was betrothed first.
yurong and his band left the plain where the burrin tribe roamed, and journeyed over the mountains. they did not find any great difficulties, for they had been told where to find the best tracks, and they had scarcely any loads to hamper them. it was summer-time, and the lightest of rugs served them for covering at night, even in the keener air of the hills. there was no difficulty in finding food or water, and the stars were their guides.
when they came to the country of the baringas they went very cautiously, for they did not wish to encounter any of wadaro's men. in the daytime they hid themselves in gullies or in bends of the creek, only coming out when their scouts knew that no enemies were near; but at night they travelled fast, and before long they climbed up a great hill that lay across their path, and from its topmost peak they saw the gleaming line of the sea. then, watching, they saw camp-fire smoke drifting over the trees; and they knew they had found wadaro's camp.
they became more careful than ever, knowing that now was their greatest danger. sometimes they hid in trees, or in caves in the rocks, all the time watching, and noting in their memories the number of the men they saw and the signs of abundance of game. there was no doubt that this was a far better country than their own, and they thirsted to possess it. at the same time they could see how strong the baringas were. even their womenfolk were tall and straight and strong, and would help to fight for their land and their freedom. the burrin men used to see them when they went out to dig in the bush, a merry, laughing band. always with them was a beautiful girl with red flowers in her hair. yurong would watch her closely from his hiding-place, and he made up his mind that when the fighting was over this girl should be the chief part of his share of the spoils. he was so conceited that he never dreamed that his tribe would not win.
but misfortune fell upon yurong and his little band. they were prowling round the outskirts of wadaro's camp one night when a woman, hushing her crying baby to sleep, caught a glimpse of the black forms flitting among the trees. she gave the alarm silently, and silently the fighting-men of the baringas hurled themselves upon the intruders. there was no time to flee: the burrin men fought fiercely, knowing that escape was hopeless. one by one, they were killed.
yurong was the last left alive. he turned and ran, when the last of his comrades fell, a dozen baringas at his heels. the first he slew, turning on him and striking him down; then he ran on wildly, hearing behind him the hard breathing of the pursuing warriors.
suddenly the ground under his feet gave way. he fell, down, down, into blackness, shouting as he went; then he struck icy water with a great splash. when he came to the surface he could see the moonlight far above him, and hear the voices of the baringa men, loud and excited. then he went under once more.
on the river-bank, steep and lofty, the baringas watched the black pool where yurong had disappeared. there was no sign of life there.
"he is gone," they said at last. "no man ever came alive out of that place. well, it is a good thing." they watched awhile longer, and then turned back to the camp, where songs of victory were ringing out among the trees.
