Some had
only white stripes over the places where their bones were, which made them
look like skeletons flitting before the fire, or in and out of the
surrounding darkness. The dancing men were divided from the rest of the
tribe by a row of fires, which, burning brightly, lit the horrid scene
with a lurid red light. The firelight seemed to make the ferocious faces
of the dancers still more hideous. The tribe people were squatting in
rows on the ground, beating boomerangs and spears together, or striking
bags of skin with sticks, to make an accompaniment to the wailing song
they sang. Sometimes the women would cease beating the skin bags, to clap
their hands and strike their sides, yelling the words of the corroboree
song as the painted figures, like fiends and skeletons, danced before the
row of fires.
It was a terrifying sight to Dot. "Oh, Kangaroo!" she whispered, "they
are dreadful, horrid creatures."
"They're just Humans," replied the Kangaroo, indulgently.
"But white Humans are not like that," said Dot.
"All Humans are the same underneath, they all kill Kangaroos," said the
Kangaroo. "Look there! They are playing at killing us in their dance."
Dot looked once more at the hideous figures as they left the fire and
behaved like actors in a play. One of the black fellows had come from a
little bower of trees, and wore a few skins so arranged as to make him
look as much like a Kangaroo as possible, whilst he worked a stick which
he pretended was a Kangaroo's tail, and hopped about.
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