The Australian aboriginal

So soon as the child is able to walk and run, independently of its mother, it is allowed every freedom, but never far away from the watchful eye of its parent; quite occasionally, however, one might meet with a toddler roaming about the bush all alone, and miles away from the main camp. Recently we saw a little chap near Running Waters on the Finke River, who would wander away from camp and spend days alone in the sandhills. The only nourishment he could find during his absence was a handful of small bulbs, which grew along the sandy banks of the Finke. It must be mentioned that this little fellow was an orphan, and nobody seemed to take much notice of his absence for the first day or so, after which a near relative would set out, pick up the wanderer’s track, and bring him back to camp.

Parents devote much of their time to the entertainment and amusement of their children; but the economical side of play is never forgotten. If during a game, a practical wrinkle can be taught, which will prove useful when the playful moments are left behind and the more serious stage of life is entered, the opportunity is never missed.

Much time is spent in the evenings teaching the younger generation songs and dances, which allude to ancestral traits, to the tricks of the chase, and to the damage the evil spirits can do. The notes and calls of the different wild animals and birds, with which the tribe has daily to do, are cleverly imitated and explained, disregardless of the numerous repetitions, which are begged, to satisfy the childish curiosity. For instance, the plover is by the Western Arunndta called “kurreke tata,” which is softly and musically rendered in imitation of the bird’s familiar cry. The plover is described as a rain-maker, which is able to bring the water from a cloud whenever it desires. Even the European settler often refers to this bird as a “rainpiper”; the connection between the species and rain no doubt having arisen from the fact that plover usually follow up showers and remain in the vicinity of any pools which collect upon the ground. During any rain-making ceremonies the plover is frequently mimicked. Another of their favourite items is the imitation of a whining and howling dingo, which they accomplish with wonderful accuracy.

The dances, too, are largely imitative. One of the most popular of the Arunndta repertoire is the frog-dance. The child adopts a sitting attitude and passes its arms from the outside, behind the knees, and forwards to the ground. In this position, it moves about on “all fours,” with a peculiar hopping motion, adding greatly to the hilarity of the meeting.

Great pleasure is evinced by the beaming young faces when an adult prepares to draw pictures in the sand. A small circular patch of ground is cleared by the entertainer, and the children seat themselves around it. Having smoothed the surface with the palm of his hand, he proceeds to “draw” by scratching the design into the sand with a small pointed stick. Although the pictures are crude, and often nothing short of puzzles to the European, the artist talks all the while to the children in such a convincing way that, even assuming their eye incapable of comprehension, their interest is excited or persuaded to such an extent as to almost render the few lines in the sand a living reality. “Here is the man,” explains the artist, as he draws a vertical line, “walking about” (a number of small holes are tapped into the sand), “he sees a lizard” (a longer line on a slope crossed by two shorter bars at right angles), “away it runs” (pairs of taps slantingly opposite to each other), “the man after it” (single taps between the former pairs), “he throws a boomerang” (the familiar shape of the weapon is outlined), “the lizard goes down a hole” (a hole is scratched into the ground), “the Kurdaitcha take it, it is gone!” (he slaps the spot with the flat of his hand). “Yerrai! What is that? A snake!” (emerging from the hole he draws a curved line), “the man has lost his boomerang but he hits the snake with his waddy” (the curved line is smacked several times with the small drawing stick the artist holds in his hand). “I, i, i! he has finished (i.e. killed) it.” And so the narration might go on for a considerable time.

Commendable pains are taken by the adults in imitating the tracks of all the animals of chase, and the children are invited to compete in reproducing them. For instance, an “emu track” is obtained by pressing the inner surfaces of the index finger and thumb, held at an angle of about forty-five degrees, into a smooth patch of sand; then, without lifting the index finger, the thumb is moved to the opposite side and there pressed into the sand, at about the same angle as before. Often the impression of the “pad” of the bird’s foot is indicated by dabbing the round point of the thumb into the sand immediately behind the intersection of the three “toes.”

A kangaroo track is simple, and is made by imprinting a finger or big toe twice in the sand, an inch or two apart, so that the resulting marks are two parallel grooves supposed to represent the impressions of the long central toes of the marsupial. A shorter mark is made at the centre of either of these, at an angle of about forty-five degrees, to indicate the lateral toes, when the track is complete. At times a small scratch or hole is made at the end of each of the “toes,” to suggest the claw-marks.

A dog track is made with the fingers alone. The tip of the thumb makes an imprint, which is to represent the pad, whilst the finger-tips supply those of the four toes, ranged in a semi-circle about the former. The claw-marks are added in the same way as described of the kangaroo track.

A human track is imitated by imprinting the outer edge of a half-closed hand, the left hand being used for the left foot and the right for the right. This impression will give the ball, the outer surface, and the heel of the required track; the toe-marks are dabbed in with the finger-tips.

Where the camel is known, its track is reproduced. A piccaninny is momentarily sat upon a smooth patch of sand and lifted away again; the imprint of its stern supplies the outline for the required track. The lower half of ridge left in the sand by the cleft between the child’s buttocks is obliterated, when the “track” is ready for the never-failing applause. Occasionally the upper angles, representing the camel’s toes, are improved by making them more acute and deepening them to show where the claws are supposed to have cut into the ground.

The study of animal-spoors in all their specific and various intricacies, and especially the art of individualizing the human foot-print, rank among the most important and earliest occupations of the aboriginal child’s mind. Parents are required by law to see that the children receive constant instruction and exercise in this department. It is a common thing for a mother to purposely slip away from her child and not to respond to the imploring wail, which follows when her absence is discovered. The only sympathy some relatives or friends might proffer is to direct the child’s notice to its mother’s tracks and at the same time urging it to follow them up.

Whereas the average European can distinguish between the tracks of a dog and a cat, it is a decidedly more difficult matter for him to discriminate between those of a mastiff and a wolf on the one hand and, say, those of a sheep-dog and a fox or jackal on the other. The aboriginal, however, learns to recognize not only the class, or species, or variety, as they are known to us, by the spoors, but can particularize each single individual. By looking at a track, for instance, which we can only describe as a “dog track,” an aboriginal can immediately tell us whether it is that of a “wild-dog” or of a “whitefellow-dog,” whether the animal is young or old, male or female, and whether it passed over the ground sometime to-day, yesterday, the day before, or a week ago; finally, he will tell us whether he has ever seen the dog, and, if so, he will probably know who the owner is. And all this information comes at a glance!

The children love basking in the sand; and spend hours playing with the glistening white and red drifts so plentiful in central and northern Australia. Little mounds are built, upon which they sit to defy the others to topple them; and oblong holes are scratched, into which some of the younger are laid and almost completely covered with sand. When the buried ones presently throw the sand from their bodies, the rest of the players scamper off with a hullabaloo and tell their elders the Kurdaitcha (devil-devil) is coming.

Along the north coast of Australia, the mud-banks of the tidal rivers are a great source of amusement. When the water recedes during the heat of day, the young folk make for the blue mud-banks to indulge in sport and play. Mud-sliding is usually the first item of the programme. Taking a long run over the firmer ground, the performers reach the mud-bank with considerable velocity, and in consequence of this, they slide over the slimy surface in much the same style as our children in the Old Country do over the ice. They maintain their balance with their arms. The sliding is effected either singly or in long chains they form by joining hands. They endeavour to make their slide reach the water, which, if they are successful, they enter with no end of splashing and shrieking “Ai! Ai! Ai!”

Another method often tried is to run and then take the “slide” lying upon chest and belly. As one is sliding this way, he turns his body round its long axis and eventually disappears into the water. To the observer a child sliding in this way looks deceptively like a stranded dugong or other big fish endeavouring to make back to water. Occasionally one of the sporters breaks the monotony of the game by negotiating the “slide” with his stern. Or he may bring along a small oblong sheet of bark, upon which he sits or kneels and propels himself along with his foot. In modern language this toy might be called a “mud-scooter.”

On Cambridge Gulf the girls have evolved yet another variety of this sport. One lies flat on the mud, face downward, whilst another stands behind her. The one lying now places her arms forwards and holds the palms of her hands together; at the same time she bends her legs to a rectangle in the knees, and keeping them together she holds them rigid in that position. Now the girl standing behind seizes the legs of the one on the mud at about the ankles and pushes the human sleigh along the “slide.” As a special favour a piccaninny might be allowed to take a seat upon the sliding girl’s back.

In the same district the boys delight in carrying each other pick-a-back to the brink of the softest mud, to precipitate the rider backwards into the slush or into the water.

To break the monotony, the children place themselves in a row, each with a number of flattish pebbles previously collected on the dry land, and take it turn about to pelt the surface of the water at a very sharp angle in order to make the stone ricochet as many times as possible.

A new game is begun by the girls stamping the water with their feet, as at a corroboree; the boys are preparing for a sham-fight. They cover the whole of their body, including the hair, with thick mud, which they maintain is the same as the ochre the warriors apply to their bodies when on the war-path. They pick sides and stand face to face on a bank, about half a chain apart. Upon a given signal they commence bombarding each other with mud-balls! One is reminded of the snowballing feats of European school children. The lads endeavour to dodge the mud-balls thrown by their adversaries with as little movement as possible, by just contorting the figure or lifting a limb to allow a missile to fly harmlessly by. Much gesticulation takes place during the friendly combat, and often does one hear an excited “Ai! Ai!” announcing the fact that a player has effected a narrow escape. The climax, however, is not reached until a hit is recorded, and a ball, too carefully aimed, spatters the body of a neglectful opponent. When the game is over, all participants rest for a while upon the surface of the muddy bank, then dive into the water and wash the slush from their heated bodies.

At Kurrekapinnya Soakage in the Ayers Ranges the bare, inclined surface of a granitic outcrop is utilized by the children for tobogganing. The same track has been in use for so long that the “slide” has become remarkably smooth from the constant wear. The tobogganer gathers a bundle of rushes at the soakage and makes for the top of the outcrop. There he places the bundle upon the polished “slide,” sits upon it, and starts himself moving down the slope. Considerable speed is attained by the time he reaches the bottom of the rock, whence he shoots into the sand adjacent to it. The performance is repeated over and over again.

The Victoria River tribes arrange competitions among the boys in tree-climbing, the lads being required to clamber up a number of selected trees, and down again, in the quickest time possible.

On Bathurst Island a favourite amusement of the younger folk on a breezy day is to collect the light globular seed-heads of the “spring rolling grass” (Spinifex hirsutis), that grow on every sandhill near the coast, and take them to the beach to release them on the hardened sand. Driven along by the wind, these seeds travel over the surface at no mean pace. Allowing them to gain a fair start, the children bolt after them, endeavouring to overtake them and pick them up from the ground while dashing past at full speed in “cow-boy” fashion.

In the same locality the children assemble on the beach and compete in running and long jumping.

The Arunndta and Dieri children collect the dry tussocks of the “roly poly” (Salsola kali) upon a windy day and take them to a big clay pan. There they liberate them, and, as the wind whips them over the level ground, the youthful gang makes after them with toy spear or boomerang, each endeavouring to either stake a tussock with the first-named weapon or shatter it with the latter.

In the Fowler’s Bay district the tussock is replaced by an artificial target, such as a ball of fur-string, which is rolled over the surface by an elder.

The Arunndta boys on the Finke River cut discs out of the bark of eucalyptus trees, which they roll over the hard ground and chase with toy spears. In the same district I have seen the bark disc replaced by an iron ring the boys had been given by a teamster; this was carefully kept in one of the huts and only produced when the lads were at liberty and felt inclined “to tilt at the ring.”

A modification of the game was observed in the Humbert River district, Northern Territory. Two parties, of about half-a-dozen each in number, take up positions opposite each other and about a chain or chain and a half apart. A circular piece of thick green bark is thrown overarm by a member of one party swiftly towards the other, so that it strikes the ground a little distance in front of the latter and rolls along the ground past them. The waiting party stand in a row, with their spears poised, and each in succession rushes forward to pierce the rolling disc by hurling his missile at it. If one is successful the fact is immediately announced by loud cheering. Then one of the party, who have thrown, returns the disc in a similar way to the opposite side whilst several of his fellows collect the spears for the next turn. Thus the players are alternately “active” and “passive.” Special short wooden spears are used, about five feet long, pointed at one end. The disc is shaped out of an irregular piece of bark by biting off the angular points until a more or less circular piece is obtained. Men and youths play for hours at a time at this game, which they call “gorri”; and even children are tolerated by them, although the last-named are often growled at and told to keep out of the way (Plate XIII, 1).

A kind of hand-ball is practised on Bathurst Island. The seeds of the Zamia (Cycas media) take the place of a small ball. Two lads stand facing each other and hit the seed to and fro with the palms of their hands, after the style of a modern game of tennis. On the Victoria River, the children made similar use of the green seed capsules of the cotton-tree.

In the Meda district of north-western Australia, players at the same game employed flat pieces of wood resembling cricket bats, the balls being fashioned out of the woody fruits of the Pandanus.

Catch-ball is played by the children of all Australian tribes. The “balls” might consist of anything; the Arunndta of the Finke River country use the seeds of the Macrozamia Macdonnelli, the natives of Melville and Bathurst Island Zamia and Pandanus seeds, the Larrekiya of Port Darwin small bags stuffed with fur, the scrotum of a kangaroo being often used for the purpose. It is surprising, however, that despite the quickness of their eyes and the keenness of their sight, the natives, as a rule, are very backward at catching with their hands any object which is thrown at them.

The boys of the Arunndta and Aluridja tribes construct a small cylindrical stick sharpened at both ends, which they lay on the ground; then, with a longer stick held in the right hand, they strike one end of it, to make it bounce into the air, and, as it rises, hit it with considerable force. Competitions are held to see who can, by this method, drive the small object farthest. The game is much the same as our familiar “tip-cat.”

From Sunday Island I have already recorded a peculiar type of throwing contest, which the girls were indulging in at the time of our visit. Two rows of seven or eight each were standing a couple of chains apart, and, whilst facing one another, were bombarding their opponents with consolidated cakes of cow-dung. The missiles were thrown with considerable skill, even by the smallest girls, due allowance being made for the curvature in flight. It was part of the game to dodge the flying bodies, and, whenever a hit was recorded, a triumphant cheer would ring from the opposite side. In rushing wildly about the space, the light calico skirts of the playing damsels would fly high in the air, exposing their slender limbs beneath. In their eagerness to hit, and avoid being hit, they repeatedly exclaimed: “Arre minya, arre minya.” Some of the more experienced throwers showed their proficiency by using flat slabs of stone in lieu of the cakes of dung.

The games we generally refer to as “hide-and-seek” are known to the tribes of Australia. In one game a number of persons hide behind bushes and boulders and are sought by one or more children; in another an article is hidden by one and looked for by the rest of the party. The players endeavour to mislead the “seeker” by obliterating their tracks and substituting them by all sorts of “back-to-front,” “devil-devil,” and other deceptive tracks. When a “find” is made there is a loud, jubilant cry; and the “hider,” unless he can escape in time, is pommelled by the “seeker”; the players do not, however, run back to a crease or “home,” as we do in the European game.

Once one considers toys supplied by adults for the special benefit of children, the question resolves itself into an analysis of endless possibilities of creation achieved by the happy combination of inventive mimicry and lucid interpretation. It would be as futile to attempt an exhaustive discussion upon so big a subject as it would be to even try to describe all the artificial objects one classes as toys, however crude they might appear, which are manufactured for the purpose of entertaining and instructing the child. And, indeed, the young folks themselves are neither idle nor behindhand in augmenting the collection of playthings supplied by others.

Most of these articles are, however, made on the spur of an impulse and serve their purpose just for the time being.

One of the favourite occupations of the children of all Australian tribes is to build small brushwood shelters and wurlies for themselves to sit and talk in like grown-ups. Occasionally they occupy these miniature domiciles as “father and mother,” but more often as “father” or “mother,” with a number of “children” to “look after.”

When the “children” are not available as living playmates, inanimate objects, such as stone, bits of wood, leaves and flowers, are selected to take the “children’s” place. These receive names and are placed in a row before the “foster parent,” who talks to them and frequently changes them about. But the best part of the game is when one of the “children” is supposed to misbehave itself, and in consequence must receive a good flogging with a stick, kept handy for that purpose. At other times one of the objects is taken up, nursed, and spoken to most affectionately.

Here then we have the idea of the doll, simple though it be. But after all, simplicity in method, so far as the training of children is concerned, is perhaps the readiest means of stimulating the imitative, and with it the creative, force which Nature has endowed them with.

The doll is usually just a plain stick or stone, with perhaps some distinguishing feature upon it, like a knob at one end which represents the head. Occasionally it is painted with red ochre. Dr. W. E. Roth found that on the Tully River in Queensland a forked stick is chosen so as to permit the child fixing it on its neck like a mother carrying her baby, with its lower limbs dangling over the shoulders.

Imaginary fireless cooking is also a pastime the little girls never tire of. A shallow hole is scooped, into which a few handfuls of cold ashes are thrown; this represents the fireplace. Upon the ashes is laid a pebble, a leaf, or any other article which they make up their minds to “cook.” Having covered it with sand in the orthodox way, the girls sit and talk, whilst they make themselves believe the dish is in course of preparation. They invite each other to the prospective feast, each explaining what she is cooking; one might have a wallaby, another a lizard, and still another a yam.

Quite apart from accompanying their mothers on the regular hunting expeditions, the little boys often go out alone. They carry toy weapons, with which they say they are going to slay a kangaroo or anything else happening to come their way. In the Fitzroy River district the young hunters collect, or cut out of a gum-tree butt, several pieces of bark, dry or fresh, and shy these into the crown of a boabab (Brachychiton Gregorii), hoping to fell a nut or two. If they are successful, they proudly return to camp with their spoil and obtain permission to roast it at the fireside. The small bark missiles are looked upon by the boys as quite equivalent to the “kaili” (boomerangs) of their fathers; and there is no doubt they can throw them with greater skill. I have seen the little fellows stalk a flock of foraging cockatoo and, when within range, fling several of the toy weapons into the birds as they are rising; invariably one or two birds are brought to fall.

The trimmed stalks of bullrushes and reeds make excellent toy spears, which are thrown with the heavier end pointing forwards and the thinner end poised against the index finger of the right hand. With these “weapons” the lads have both mock fights and mock hunts. In the latter case, one or two of their number act the part of either a hopping kangaroo or a strutting emu and, by clever movements of the body, endeavour to evade the weapons of the hunting gang.

One of the favourite pastimes of young and old among the Kukata is to play at “emu.” The players take a stick, about three feet long, and tie a bundle of grass, brushwood, or feathers to one end of it, to represent the neck and the head. The performer clasps this stick with both hands and holds it erect in front of him; then he bends his body forwards from the hips, whilst other persons cover him with skins, and tie a tussock of grass over his stern to indicate the tail. The actor next begins to walk around, as truly as possible imitating the actions of the bird he is representing. As he walks, he nods his “head,” while some of the children scamper round him in great excitement, others flee from him shrieking with terror. After a while he stops short, turns his head and shakes his body, finally running away in a zig-zag course. As he runs, he frequently imitates the peculiar deep note of the old emu and occasionally the shrill whistling cry of the young. A most amusing little incident, which I saw in connection with this game, happened near Mount Eba. A man, fully rigged as an emu, was entertaining the camp with some very clever, bird-like antics, when suddenly a vicious mongrel darted at the performer from a wurlie he was passing. The “emu,” without any deliberation at all, dropped its head, scampered across the ground, hotly pursued by the dog, and, in its terror, climbed the nearest tree.

The King Sound men construct miniature “kaili,” barely an inch in length, and practically straight, which they project, before the admiring eyes of their juvenile audience, by using their fingers only. The little toy is held between the second and third phalanges of the left index finger, so that a good half of its length projects above the hand. The inner tip of the right index finger is pressed strongly against the outer surface of the left thumb and suddenly allowed to slip over the top edge and strike the projecting part of the toy. The little slab of wood is jerked into the air, whirls through space in a parabolic curve, and, when well managed, returns to the hand of the projector. The children often try this feat, but, with the exception of a rare fluke, never succeed; in fact, it is not every adult man who can do it.

On Sunday Island, small models of the raft (“kaloa”), locally used, are made for the children to play with. These toys are exact replicas of the craft described in a subsequent chapter and are neatly constructed in every detail.

A kind of dart is made by the children in the Northern Kimberleys of Western Australia out of the root ends of grass seed-stalks, six to eight inches long. These are held, one at a time, between the palms of the hands parallel to, and between, the middle fingers, beyond which they project but a fraction of an inch. In this position the hands are turned so that the fingers point towards the body. Then taking careful aim at an object, the child throws its hands vigorously forwards, at the same instant opening them and shooting the dart in the desired direction.

Among the Dieri, Yantowannta, and Ngameni, principally, and to a less extent among the Arunndta, Aluridja, and Kukata, a playing stick is found which is commonly known by the name of “kukerra.” Although a toy, the men only were observed to use it, not only to amuse the children, but for the benefit of the whole camp. The kukerra is a slender, club-shaped stick made out of the Mulga. Its length is about three feet six inches, of which the thickened end occupies something like nine inches; the head, i.e. the swollen portion, is up to an inch or slightly more in diameter, whilst the “stick” is not thicker than an ordinary lead pencil; each end terminates in a blunt point. The Dieri kukerras are lighter and more slender than the Arunndta or Aluridja. The playing stick is seized at its thin end and, swinging it with a straight arm, it is made to strike a bush or tussock in front of the thrower; whence it bounds through the air in an inclined position, and, after striking the ground, glides along the surface in a snake-like manner.

Natives are fond of spinning any suitable objects which fall into their hands; small pebbles, gall-nuts, and the larger varieties of conical and bell-shaped eucalyptus fruits are all made to spin upon a level surface just to amuse the children. The Yantowannta, Wongkanguru, and other tribes of the Cooper Creek region are very clever at moulding tops out of clay, with real pegs, upon which the toys revolve. These tops are undoubtedly an indigenous invention. The spinning is usually accomplished by rubbing the toy between the palms of both hands.

Skipping is indulged in by little boys and girls alike. A long vine is used by the Wogaits on the Daly River, which is swung to and fro like a pendulum by two of the players, whilst others jump over the line as it passes beneath them. The “rope” is not swung overhead.

At Engoordina, Arunndta children and women were noticed to entertain the tribe by artful tricks with an endless piece of string. By an intricate method of inter-looping and threading, a long cord, tied together at its ends, so as to form a complete ring, is transformed into different patterns of squares, triangles, and circles, the composite groups of which are intended to represent different natural objects. The string is held at different points, according to the complexity of the design, by the fingers, toes, and mouth of the performer; occasionally, indeed, the services of an assistant are required to support the pattern whilst it is being constructed. The more elaborate articles when completed resemble a loosely netted or knitted fabric, the plainer are more after the style of a few loops or meshes lightly held together. Some of the designs bear a recognizable resemblance to the objects they are intended to represent (e.g. birds, animals, men, etc.), others appear to be (to the European at any rate) rather far-fetched. Very often a complicated-looking design can be instantly reduced to the original piece of string by simply pulling one of its component loops or ends.

Dr. W. E. Roth has very ably described a series of such figures, made with one or two endless strings, which he found to be commonly constructed throughout north Queensland, where the tribes play a game resembling the European “cratch-cradle.”

Children are not allowed to attend many tribal ceremonies; consequently one does not often see them with their bodies decorated or ornamented. There are occasions, however, when their presence is tolerated, such as, for instance, at receptions to relatives who are returning from a fight or long hunting expedition. White earth or kaolin is invariably used for beautifying the appearance, it being maintained that it is unwise to apply much red, the token of blood, to the body of one who has not sacrificed some of his blood during the course of such ceremonies as will elevate him to the status of the tribe’s manhood. The kaolin is applied in the form of a thick paste in a series of thin lines. On Sunday Island these lines pass from the centre of the shoulder, on either side, diagonally to and along the breast-bone; and horizontally across the thighs and forearms. The face has a smear of white straight down the nose, and two semi-circular lines, which enclose the mouth and converge to a point opposite the ear on either side. The child in addition wears a belt of twisted human hair-string, from which pends a pearl shell ornament; it might also carry a plume of white cockatoo feathers in its hair. There are slight variations in the patterns and designs chosen for child-decoration both in the same tribal group and among different tribes, but no matter what part of Australia is considered, the effect completed is decidedly less elaborate than the complex and ornate colour schemes seen in the ceremonial displays of performing men. The children take no active part in such proceedings, but usually walk or stand about at points where they do not interfere with the proceedings in general. There is no objection to the child carrying one of the boomerangs of its father, but under no conditions is it permitted to handle a spear-thrower.

Children are early accustomed to discipline and obedience. They are not required to obey any but their individual fathers, tribal fathers, and tribal uncles. They need not pay heed to the orders of their contemporaries, but only to the word of such as they consider “grew them,” that is, men of a previous generation to themselves. Women need not be obeyed by law, but, with the knowledge and sanction of a father, a mother can chastise and punish a child as much as she pleases. The father reserves the right to interfere at any moment.

The little girls accompany their mothers whenever collecting rambles are undertaken. They receive instructions in the methods of locating and gathering grubs, lizards, seeds, and roots; and during this time they are required to daily handle the yam-stick in the correct manner as shown them by their seniors. Subsequently they are taught how to clean, cook, and prepare the meals to be placed before the men.

The boys are early in life schooled in the practices of carpentry, so far as they are applied to the making and shaping of domestic utensils and weapons with the few crude implements at their disposal.

Further, they are instructed in the knacks and arts of handling and throwing weapons of chase, attack, and defence. The lads take to this instruction enthusiastically. For instance, whilst being taught the art of boomerang-throwing, one might daily see a youngster, even in the absence of his master, posing in the attitude demonstrated to him, without actually letting the piece of wood, which answers the purpose of a weapon, go out of his hand (Plate XIV, 1).

Boys are not allowed to handle real boomerangs, spears, or shields before they have undergone the first initiation ceremony. If they did so, the offence would be looked upon as an insult to the dignity of the men who have qualified and are thus entitled to the privilege of carrying such weapons on parade. The offence is in fact, on a point of decorum, similar to the case of a fellow in the “rank and file” wearing the sword or insignia of his superior officer.

When, at a later stage, the elder boys of the Northern Kimberleys of Western Australia become well-skilled in throwing, sham-fights are arranged. Pieces of bark are broken from the mangroves, out of which the combatants make missiles resembling straight boomerangs. Sides are picked under the supervision of the men and the signal given to start. In a moment the air becomes alive with the whirr and buzz of the flying pieces of wood, which the youths throw straight at one another. Often severe gashes and wounds are inflicted upon the bodies of the “fighters,” but such are taken in good faith and looked upon as being part of the game.

As a means of self-defence and protection against such throwing-sticks and the small toy-spears previously mentioned, the Arunndta construct for their boys light bark shields. A piece of green bark is cut out of the butt of a eucalyptus, oblong-oval in shape and about two feet long and six inches wide. Two holes are cut in the central line of this piece, about six inches from either end, and through them two or three fairly stout, green twigs are stuck, from the under, concave surface, to form a handle. The points of these twigs stick out from the top surface, some two inches, but they are left to prevent the ends of the handle from slipping out. The bark is then bent in the required shield-shape and dried over a slow fire or in hot ashes (Plate XIV, 1).

The girls, too, are encouraged to indulge in stick-practice to prepare them for the “kutturu” duels they will have to take part in, in later years. The principal mark is the foot, which each alternately tries to strike, while the other is “on guard” with her stick. At other times they stand face to face, with the palms of their hands pressed tightly together. Presently one voluntarily bows her head, when the other immediately gives her a severe crack over the scalp with the small finger side of her hands. Then the other has a turn; and the process may be repeated. The object of this strange procedure is to “harden” the head in anticipation of the real blows it will receive in time to come. To make the performance appear genuine, the girl, whose turn it is to strike, may be heard to feign a curse: “Atutnia, arrelinjerrai!”

The child’s mind is early imbued with the importance of hardening the body and nerve against pain, and thereby making the system less susceptible to the hardships of life, which they know to be inevitable.

The system of personal mutilation, described in a subsequent chapter, has to a certain extent been evolved for a similar reason.

Camp life brings many little accidents with it, but the Spartan principles which are cultivated lead to an almost complete ignorance of the existence of pain as might be brought about by small cuts or burns. Just for the sake of competitive amusement, the boys of the Kukata tribe take a live coal from the fire and lay it upon the naked skin of their forearm. A red-hot coal, about the size of a pea, is usually selected for the purpose and momentarily “cooled” or “blackened” by covering it with a handful of sand. The black coal is then placed upon the forearm at any suitable spot and touched with the red-hot point of a firestick. The coal on the arm immediately turns red again and in that condition is allowed to remain there until it falls to white ash. The first effect is naturally to raise a blister, but this is soon burnt through and the raw skin is exposed, upon which the coal gently fizzles. Whilst this is going on, the boy is seen to bite his lips together and to clinch the fist of the suffering arm, as if to suppress the pain. The lesion will, of course, leave a permanent scar. Some of the lads have many of such marks upon both arms, and they seem quite proud of them.

In the camps of any of the tribal groups throughout Australia, who are still enjoying an uncontaminated life, one might see captive birds and animals temporarily tethered or kept for the amusement of children. Such are usually brought home by the men returning from their hunting expeditions. A young wallaby, for instance, is let go on an open flat and all the children set after it. They are not allowed to hurl stones or sticks after the fleeing game, but must retake it alive by the use of their hands only. Although it is against the rules to harm a captured animal, it is a curious circumstance that a native, even if grown up, invariably forgets to feed it, although entertaining the idea of keeping it alive. Occasionally, however, it happens that a creature survives and looks after its own needs; in this case the animal or bird becomes a real pet and is not made the object of children’s coursing matches any more.

The King Sound natives catch the small ring-tailed opossums, which live in the mangroves, and hand them to their children. The Ponga-Ponga gins become very attached to these marsupial pets, which they carry about with them on their days’ outings planted in the locks of their hair. The opossums seem quite contented to abide there whilst their mistresses are on the march and hang on by means of their claws and tail (Plate X, 2). Occasionally one might even see an affectionate gin suckling her pet at her breast.

On Sunday Island several cockatoos were kept by a fishing party in their camp not far from shore. The birds had their flight feathers pulled and were allowed to roam about the country in search of food. The cockatoos seemed to regard the huts as their home, to which they invariably returned; they had, moreover, picked up many phrases of the aboriginal tongue.

Although the native animals and birds of Australia have always been, and still are, the daily object of aboriginal chase, it is a remarkable fact that great friendships are made between the hunter and his would-be prey when the latter is in captivity. Indeed, the instinctive fear of an animal or bird is ever so much greater when a white man approaches than when a native does. I have seen cases where semi-wild cockatoos, magpies, and other birds have allowed themselves to be handled by natives without much concern, but the moment a European attempted to do likewise, the bird would become unmanageable, terrified, and vicious. Partly domesticated birds seem to have a predilection for perching themselves upon the legs of their native masters when the latter are sitting or lying on the ground. Talking of instinct reminds me of the occasions I took aborigines to the Zoological Gardens to see the favourite attraction, viz. the “monkey-wurlie.” Whilst European visitors were coming and going, the apes would appear unconcerned, phlegmatic, and blasé; but the moment the dark-skinned people arrived, the animals would instantly become electrified and bounce towards the iron bars, which they seized and shook frantically. The natives, on the other hand, would evince no fear, but endeavoured to edge as close as possible to the monkeys, although they had never seen one before. The monkeys, in appreciation of the coloured visitors’ benignity, would grin, wink their eyes, and make guttural noises.

At the time of my visit to the Forrest River Mission Station, a tethered monkey was kept on the premises. The natives regarded it as a real “little man,” and many of them, especially the children, were on excellent terms with it, but this could not be said of some of the old men. The monkey and the children were inseparable, and usually at play; but occasionally disputes arose which always ended in an open tussle, during which hands, teeth, and finger-nails were used. Although young humanity did not always fare best, the monkey would never take a mean advantage nor resort to extreme tactics. When it found itself victorious, it would jump triumphantly on to its perch and cry “Arre Arre.”