An aboriginal not only paints the sides of the caves he temporarily occupies, but he also delights in decorating the sheets of bark which in certain districts, such as the north coast of Australia and Melville and Bathurst Islands, are used for making his huts waterproof. The method he adopts in applying ochre to bark is precisely similar to that already considered in connection with his cave drawings. And we might at the same time extend these remarks to the decorative designs which appear in such profusion upon his spears, shields, boomerangs, spear-throwers, waddies, clubs, food and water carriers, dilly bags, ceremonial objects, personal ornaments, and, in fact, anything he has occasion to manufacture and handle.

A special variety of ochre drawing which may justify a few remarks is the tribal body decoration. We know that as a simple, but effective, means of protecting his skin against the weather, an aboriginal periodically anoints his body with emu fat; moreover, to evade detection by the game he is stalking, he often covers his body with ochre, earth, or clay to simulate the colour of his surroundings as nearly as possible. But for reasons, to him entirely cosmetic, he finds occasion to rub red ochre powder (and charcoal also) over his face and body.

He has a distinct liking for the beautiful and does not hesitate to avail himself of anything which might tend to make his person more attractive looking by the application of colour. Not only the sire, but the whole family endeavour to improve their swarthy appearance by painting ornate designs over different regions of their bodies. Longitudinal, parallel bands of red, yellow, or black, extending up the legs, back, and abdomen, together with transverse lines on the chest, shoulders, upper arms, and outer surfaces of thighs, are symmetrically drawn, and connected here and there (as, for instance, on the chest or back) by lattice patterns and concentric circles. Parents are very proud of their children thus decorated. On the Forrest River, a favourite mode is to draw a broad step-ladder-like pattern from the ankles up the front surfaces of the legs, continuing this up the trunk to about the level of the nipples, and then circling outwards, down an arm on either side, to run out at the elbow. This design is usually painted in yellow.

We have frequently referred to the fact that during corrobborees and ceremonial dances, the bodies of the performers are decorated. White pipe-clay is one of the principal pigments used, although red ochre is also much in evidence. In the performance of ceremonies, we learned that a common motive embodied in the decorations was the human skeleton. The quickest, and perhaps most effective, way of whitening the face in the representation of the skull is for the performer to literally “wash” it in finely crushed pipe-clay. To accomplish this, he scoops a quantity of the material with his hands, and, closing his eyes, rubs the stuff all over his face and possibly his head, too. By this process even the eyelids are thoroughly whitened. The other lines, horizontal and vertical, which are to represent the bones, he rubs on to the body with his fingers (Plate XLVI).

Another method is to apply the paint in the form of a water mixture, similar to that described when discussing the ochre drawings. For this purpose, especially when an important event is pending, a number of men are chosen to attend to the “make up” of the performers. The assistants kneel beside those who are to act, and apply the paste with their fingers. The most delicate parts to handle are the eyelids. The actor is required to close his eyes whilst the artist carefully applies the paste to the lids; but it occasionally happens that some of the material slips on to the eyeball and is rubbed against it before the sufferer can give the alarm. Vide Plate XLV, 2.

We have already referred to the coloured down decorations which are attached with human blood to the bodies of the performers taking part in sacred and other ceremonies, and we have also mentioned a ground drawing known as “Etominja” (Plate XXXVII), which is constructed in a similar way. Some of the latter (e.g. the “walk-about” of the “Tjilba Purra Altjerra Knaninja”) are very large; others, as for instance that connected with the “Erriakutta” or yelka ceremony, are constructed over the entire surface of mounds which cover many square feet of ground.

Having briefly reviewed the different methods of art production in vogue in Australia, we shall proceed to consider a number of the designs in greater detail, deduce their origin, trace their evolution, and, where possible, give their interpretation. It will be realized at the outset that some of the designs are crude in the extreme, whilst others are undeniably shapely and quite up to the standard of an average European’s artistic proficiency. The latter remarks apply best to actual representations of natural forms. It must be remembered that the artistic reproductions an aboriginal makes are invariably from memory; the primitive artist never draws with a model in front of him. If we were to ask a number of Europeans to draw, say a horse from memory, there is no doubt we should receive a great variety of results in response to our request. So, among the aboriginal artists, there is a great diversity of talent which is more individual than tribal.

If, for instance, we study the different attempts at representing the form of one of the most familiar subjects we could ask an aboriginal to experiment upon—the ubiquitous kangaroo —we should find by comparison of the productions placed before us, a very marked difference in quality. Compare, for instance, the two pictures of kangaroo on Plate XLVII. They are the works of men of the same tribe, are all similarly drawn, and come from the same locality. Yet, in the upper picture, the outline and proportions of the two animals are so incorrect that it is very doubtful whether many people not acquainted with the locality would guess what animal the pictures are intended to represent. In the lower picture, however, anybody acquainted with the shape of a kangaroo would have no hesitation in pronouncing his diagnosis. The characteristic attitude, the large tail, the disproportion between the front and hind limbs, and the shape of the head are quite true enough to nature to permit of correct identification.

The three designs are all drawn in charcoal, the figures in the first two cases being outlined with a white pipe-clay line, and in the second case with one of yellow ochre. If we wish to go one better still, we need only study the pipe-clay drawing on bark by a native of the Katherine River district shown on Plate XLIX, 1—a very creditable picture of a dead kangaroo.

Some of the designs one meets with are so accurately drawn that a scientific determination of the species becomes possible. Look for a moment at the fish, portrayed in pipe-clay, shown in Plate XLVIII. The piscine nature of the form, here depicted on rocks, is not only apparent, but it is possible to say with some certainty that the two shown swimming belong to the Toxotes, which are commonly called Archer Fish. The form shown in Plate XLIX, 4, is unquestionably meant to be one of the Therapon species. Both kinds of fish are known to be living in the Katherine River, not far from the site at which these pictures were drawn.

But if, on the other hand, some of the designs are so poor as to be barely recognizable or even quite unrecognizable by us, how does the aboriginal manage? When the artist is present, he can explain. But he is not always available!

If, by way of illustration, we were asked to say definitely what the meaning of the central figure on Plate L, 1, was we should in all probability want to know more about it before committing ourselves. But an aboriginal can give us a correct reply immediately. The locality at which the photograph was obtained is north of the Musgrave Ranges in central Australia. But that does not give us any clue. After studying the picture more closely, we might be able to distinguish the outline of a quadruped, the four legs being shown, one behind the other, in a row, and a big head on the right-hand side, in a position suggesting that the animal is feeding. But these are characteristics common to many animals!

So far, therefore, we have seen nothing to suggest the class of animal we are dealing with. When we look again, we might note that there is a crude image of a human being shown on the back of the animal; and behind this is a structure which might stand for a saddle. We guess the answer and claim that the group is a very poor drawing of a man on horseback.

But there are other animals a man could ride! And when we look again, we observe that the second leg of the animal, counting from the right, has a peculiar enlargement attached to its lower end. That structure is the key to the riddle; it represents the track of the animal! Those familiar with the great beast of burden, now used extensively in central Australia, will recognize the two-toed spoor of a camel.

This method of pictorial elucidation is by no means exceptional. We have already noticed something similar in the ancient carvings at Port Hedland, where the human foot-print is added to disperse any doubt which may be entertained in so far as the correct interpretation of the figure is concerned. A similar device is well exemplified in the accompanying sketch of an ochre drawing of a human form from the Glenelg River district in the northern Kimberleys of Western Australia (Fig. 15). In the carving of an emu from the King Sound district, which is reproduced in Plate XLII, 2, we noticed the same sort of thing.

The cases before us are not accidental, but we have acquainted ourselves with the recognized determinative system of Australian pictographs which is quite analogous to that known to have been practised by the ancient Egyptians. Consider, for instance, the character signifying “to love”—a human figure in profile with one hand lifted to the level of the mouth. The same figure, with a few parallel wavy lines, signifying water, drawn against it, means no longer “to love,” but “to drink.” The wavy lines in this instance are the determinative. In the Australian illustrations given above, we have selected samples which are easily followed, but there are many cases where the reading would be quite impossible if it were not for the presence of the little, subsidiary, determinative sketch.

In his endeavour to make the meaning of some of his designs clear, a native often embodies as many features as possible, quite regardless as to whether in reality they would all be visible in the one plane he is drawing. In the picture of a crocodile appearing on a boabab-nut from the Derby district in Western Australia, shown in Fig. 16, it will be observed that the reptile, in spite of having its dorsal surface represented, has its vent indicated. The long, slender muzzle of this figure, by the way, makes it clear that the smaller species of the two northern Australian crocodiles (C. Johnstoni) is intended. The human figure, too, very often appears half in full and half in profile.

The aboriginal is a keen observer, and takes careful note of many things besides a kangaroo, a snake track, or other similar natural objects which may lead him to his daily bread. When travelling in the Buccaneer Archipelago in the far north-west I remember one of the natives drawing my attention to a peculiar formation in the clouds, and saying, in the Sunday Island dialect: “Arrar ninmiddi,” which means, literally: “Cloud knee.” My instructor proceeded to draw the extraordinary shape he could see with his finger upon the hatchway of the pearling lugger we were sailing in, after which he completed the figure of a man. I was struck with this man’s faculty of observation, because the cloud effect he referred to was rather out of the common and projected from a cirro-cumulus like the bent limb of a swastica.

It is in this way that many inspirations come to the cave artist. Repeatedly one has occasion to notice how a pre-existing feature or defect in the rock face—a crevice, a floor, a concretion—becomes the centre piece of a design drawn to suit it. The feature one finds most commonly embodied in a cave drawing is a small hole. This often figures in the place of an animal’s eye, or a hole into which a snake is disappearing. A local bulge in the rock may also be taken in as part of a design and represent portion of a head or body.

Not only does the artist embody suitable natural features in his designs, but, conversely, he also applies his knowledge of form to explain already existing phenomena in the world about him. The embodiment of his artistic ideas in his poetical explanations of Nature’s wonders plays, as might be expected, an important role in his mythology. These remarks apply especially to any striking characteristics in the sky. When among the tribes of the Musgrave Ranges, I ascertained that the black-looking gap in the Milky Way, close to the Southern Cross, which is commonly known as the Coal Sack, was referred to as “Kaleya Pubanye,” that is, the “Resting Emu.”

In the north of Australia, the Larrekiya, Wogait, and other tribes have adopted a similar designation for a series of dark spaces along the Milky Way. But they have extended the idea considerably in that the Coal Sack represents only the head of a gigantic emu, the beak of which is pointed towards the Musca constellation (i.e. towards the south). A small star of the Southern Cross group very appropriately stands for the eye of the bird; the nebulous effect usually surrounding this star gives it an extra life-like appearance. The neck is but faintly discernible near the head, but becomes clearly visible in the neighbourhood of the nearer Pointer; it passes between the two Pointers and curves slightly towards the constellation of Lupus. Within the constellation of Norma, the dark space widens considerably and represents the body of the emu. The blunt tail turns sharply towards, and into, the constellation of Scorpio. A nebulous patch lying practically on the point of junction between the imaginary areas of Ara, Scorpio, and Norma affords a good division between the legs of the bird, whilst another lying between μ and ζ of the Scorpion group separates the tail. The lower portions of the legs are not very clear, but some of the more imaginative natives maintain that they can distinguish three toes on each extremity. There is no doubt the primitive eye has herein discovered a striking similarity between an optical phenomenon in the southern sky and a living creature, which is of great importance in the hunting field, and at the same time plays a prominent role in tribal folk-lore. They refer to this emu by the name of “Dangorra.” Vide Fig. 17.

As affording a means of comparison, a hunting scene is reproduced carved upon the surface of a club by aborigines of Victoria. The little group is composed of an aboriginal hunter who in one hand is poising a spear and in the other is carrying a boomerang; behind him are two emus standing in much the same position as that assumed to be the case in the heavenly image just described.

The Minning at Eucla recognize only the long neck of the emu in the sky, and refer to it as “Yirrerri”; on the Nullarbor Plains the same portion is looked upon as the heavenly tjuringa of the emu.

Speaking generally, there is perhaps no other creature living which figures so frequently in aboriginal art, both on the cave wall and in the dance, as the great struthious bird of Australia. This is no doubt due in the first place to the admirable way in which it lends itself for the purposes mentioned; its antics in the field suggest many tricks for mimicry at a corrobboree, and its distinctive form supplies the artist with a model which never fails to attract the attention of the artistically inclined among his people. In Plate XLIX, 2, we have a pipeclay drawing of an emu from the Katherine River which is rather exceptional in that it shows the bird more en face than is usual; the proportions are, on the whole, good, except that the head is screwed upwards in a rather strange way. On a boomerang from Broome (Fig. 18), we have a series of engraved emu pictures, all in profile, and in different attitudes.

On the whole, an aboriginal’s pictures are flat and without perspective. He takes the inspiration direct from nature and reproduces the subject singly, and as a separate entity; a number of such designs are drawn side by side with or without pictographic sequence. But there are countless occasions upon which artists, especially the more gifted, prefer to draw a real scene from life, combining subject with action. Environment or surroundings rarely, if ever, receive attention.

Take as a very simple illustration the lizard shown in the pipeclay rock drawing from the Katherine River (Plate XLIX, 3). The general shape of the body, together with the large and well-differentiated head, strongly suggests a species of the large monitor which is common throughout the district. The interesting feature about the picture is, however, the life which is indicated by the fact that the reptile is drawn in the act of shooting out a long, split tongue.

Again, in the charcoal sketch of two crows from the Pigeon Hole district (Fig. 19), one bird is represented in an attentive attitude, as though on the point of flying away, while the other is very characteristically shown in the act of cawing.

One could produce an almost endless variety of decorated figures, representing men and women performing at ceremonial dances and corrobborees to illustrate the life and action which is embodied in aboriginal art. In Fig. 20 a selected number of pipe-clay drawings from the Humbert River, Northern Territory, have been grouped together to serve this purpose.

The most interesting effects, however, are those brought about by a combination of two or more figures. How different, for instance, the two kangaroo shown together in Fig. 21 seem to those previously discussed (Plate XLVII). These are charcoal drawings from Pigeon Hole on the Victoria River, and in them the hopping movement of the animals is indicated very clearly. The animal in the rear is in full flight, as the erect position of the tail and the general holding of the body betray; but the one in the lead is on the point of drawing up and is turning its head back towards its mate.

How realistic, too, the little bark drawing is from east of Port Darwin (Fig. 22), in which a bird of prey is shown mounted upon a wallaby or kangaroo, with its claws and beak embedded in the flesh of its victim.

A neat pipe-clay drawing from the remote Humbert River district is presented in Fig. 23. The group, which is three feet in length, is composed of a central figure of a man who is holding one arm on each side towards a dog, as if offering them something to eat or for the purpose of patting them. The dogs seem to be giving their attention to the man.

Two more charcoal drawings from Pigeon Hole, though roughly sketched by the artist, depict very graphically scenes from the hunt. In one (Fig. 24), the hunter is in the act of stalking a buffalo or bullock with his spear held in readiness to throw, while in the other the attitude of the hunter indicates that the spear has just been thrown and is entering the body of the prey, a kangaroo (Fig. 25).

The carving of an Arunndta man, reproduced in Fig. 26, is most effective. An angry husband has been caught by the artist in the act of punishing his wife with a waddy. The placement of the legs of the two persons indicates stability on the part of the man engaged in the flagellation, and a swinging movement on the part of the woman who is being held back by her hand.

We have already seen the carved representations of two stages in a stone-knife duel by an Arunndta tribesman (Fig. 4), and here, in Fig. 27, an ochre drawing is reproduced which is, if anything, more animated than any previously discussed. A spear-boomerang duel is being fought, during which each of the combatants is protecting himself with a shield. The artist has evinced considerable talent in portraying the men just at the moment when both are bounding through the air towards each other, the one on the left parrying his opponent’s spear, while the other, on the right, is preparing to receive the blow from the boomerang.

One might now go a step further in analyzing aboriginal art. The productions we have studied so far embody the ideas of form, life, and action; and, it might be added, occasionally one finds a very fair sense of composition as well. Such, indeed, might already be said to be true of several of the pictures discussed above, but a finer specimen lies before us in the charcoal drawing from Pigeon Hole (Fig. 28). This faithfully portrays a scene from a gala ceremony, in which the body of performers, fully “dressed” for the occasion, are acting before the leader, who, in his turn, is being supported by two others in the foreground. It must be admitted that the composition of this group of figures is remarkably good, and, what is quite exceptional, a very successful attempt has been made at perspective. All figures are shown in different attitudes of dancing. The impression this charcoal drawing gives one, at first glance, is that of a rough sketch in crayon resembling the outline a European artist might make on his canvas prior to starting upon the actual painting.

Leaving that section of aboriginal art which deals essentially with designs copied directly from Nature in a sense more or less purely artistic and æsthetic, we shall turn our attention to a few types which are more specialized.

From a study of his religious ideas, we have learned that the aboriginal identifies himself with some mystic, natural creature or object, which he adopts as his “totem.” It would only be reasonable to expect, therefore, that some of the drawings represent these objects; and that they are recognized by the natives as having particular personal or family significance. Looked at from a modern standpoint, these designs are really the equivalent of a family crest, and are claimed only by those rightfully entitled to them. This explanation must be given for many of the naturalistic designs appearing on rocks, trees, grave posts, and personal belongings. These “totemic” crests or symbols being hereditary, we have before us a primitive form of heraldry, a conception we have already learned to be covered by the word “Kobong,” originally introduced by Sir George Grey from the north-west of Australia.

We have also ascertained that some of the central as well as north-western tribes of Australia believe that the earliest tribal ancestors originally were more animal than human in appearance, and adopted the shape of a man only at a later period; that they can, however, return to the animal form whenever they desire; and that others remain semi-human. It is not surprising, therefore, to find amongst their drawings and carvings representations which are partly human and partly animal in outline; these are honest attempts at perpetuating the traditional appearance of the ancestral beings of the tribe. In the photograph attached hereto (Plate LI, 1), taken at Forrest River, two pictures of such creatures are to be found which are drawn in ochre. There were many others, from three to five feet in length, reptilian in shape, some with human hands and feet, others with hair shown upon the head, and in most of them the sex unduly prominent. These remarkable designs are, therefore, not naturalistic, but have been evolved on purely fictional or mythological lines, based upon the tradition of the tribe and upon the imagination of the artist.

From the consideration of these artistic effigies of their Demigods, it is not a big step forwards which brings us face to face with the sacred tribal drawings. During initiation ceremonies, especially of the now practically extinct south-eastern tribes of Australia, gigantic figures resembling a human being were moulded into the surface of the ground and subsequently tinted with ochre, which were supposed to conceal the Great Spirit or Deity, which, like the “Altjerra Knaninja” of central Australia, watched over the proceedings as the young men passed from a condition of adolescence to that of permanent manhood; numerous carvings and ochre drawings were also made upon the trunks of any trees nearby.

Not only during the initiation ceremonies are these practices resorted to, but when a sacred observance is contemplated, especially those having to do with the “totem,” elaborate designs are painted in ochre upon the surrounding surfaces of rocks and trees which depict an act connected with the traditional origin of the sacred object.

A classical illustration is to be found in the MacDonnell Ranges, at Emily Gap. According to Arunndta belief, it was at this spot that the early semi-human ancestors of the witchedy grub or “Utnguringita” alighted from Altjerringa. They brought with them large numbers of the grub, which they cooked and ate. The territory dominated by these ancient beings extended from Heavitree Gap to Emily Gap, and across to Jessie Gap. On the western wall of the first-named gap, known by the natives as “Ndariba,” an inclined slab of rock, not high above the level of the sandy bed of the Todd River, contains a series of peculiar concentric iron stains which are regarded as the impressions of the stern of an Utnguringita Altjerra who sat there, and, as he collected grubs, moved forwards. The Utnguringita came into frequent conflict with the Dingo or “Knullia” people whose country lay immediately west of Heavitree Gap, but, nevertheless, they blessed the land with many eggs, which developed into larvæ and supplied the tribe with food.

Eventually the Utnguringita ancestors returned to Altjerringa, but they left a number of stone tjuringas in Emily Gap, which are supposed to be occupied by the spirits whenever a sacred ceremony is performed on the spot. On the eastern stony wall of this gap some rather imposing designs are to be seen, which originally must have occupied most of the area available. The drawings are very old; their origin dating back long before the recollections of the present generation. It is wonderful how well the work has withstood the denuding action of the weather for so long. The natives tell you that the old Altjerringa men applied the pigment to the rock and that they mixed it with the “knudda” (fat) of the grubs. It is more likely that the ochres were mixed with emu fat; in places the pigment seems as though it were chemically combined with the rock, and it could only be removed by chipping the surface. The designs in their present condition (Plate LI, 2) consist of a series of parallel, vertical lines, alternately coloured red and white, and capped by horizontal bands of the same colours, the white of which containing three or four red dots. What the original designs may have been like, it is now difficult to say, but the natives maintain that they included the images of some women they call “Aluggurra,” who were waiting at the foot of the cliff while the men were concealing their tjuringas in the rocks and nooks above. To the present day, the old men of the local Arunndta group store their ceremonial objects in the same sanctuary, thinking that the sacred figures on the wall will protect them from the hands of inquisitive intruders.

There remains yet another class of ochre drawing which deserves mention. I allude to the famous discovery of Sir George Grey in 1837. There is perhaps no other Australian drawing, old or modern, which has been so freely discussed and criticized. During an expedition in the northern Kimberleys of Western Australia, it was my good fortune to re-discover several drawings of this type in practically the same locality as that recorded by Sir George Grey, near the Glenelg River. One figure was perfect, others were partly obliterated or incomplete. The best design was in a cave near the top of a prominent bluff the local Worora people call Berrial; it was drawn in ochre upon a steep face of rock immediately under an overhanging ledge of quartzite. The figure was unquestionably that of a human being, although it measured fully nine feet in length. It lay fully extended, upon its left side, with its arms placed straight against its sides. It reminded one forcibly of a Buddha in a Ceylonese temple. What made the figure seem un-Australian was that it was clothed in a long, striped garment, resembling a priestly gown, from which only the head, hands, and feet were excluded. A loosely-fitting belt is also shown. As seems common to all these drawings, the facial features are only indicated by the eyes and nose, the mouth being omitted. Another characteristic, which is shared by all other drawings, is that the head is surrounded by a number of peculiar, concentric bands, through which, and from which, many lines radiate, giving the structure the effect of a halo surrounding the head of a saint. The picture bore an unmistakable likeness to the type illustrated by Sir George Grey, and was drawn in red, brown, black, and white. Vide Fig. 29 and Plate L, 2.

There is no doubt about these curious drawings, now more or less adopted by the local tribe, having originated under some exotic influence. It is historically known that for centuries past excursions have been made to the north of Australia by Macassans and other eastern people, who may have been responsible for the first drawing of a figure of so sacerdotal an appearance, which the aborigines have since learned to copy so perfectly. It has also been speculated that shipwrecked sailors might be responsible for the representation of the clothed human form; in fact, an American scientist, John Campbell, claims to have deciphered an ancient Japanese inscription upon one of Grey’s figures referring to the “hopeless number,” presumably of the castaways.

In regard to the quaint head-gear which distinguishes these designs, one need not go far from Australia to find something quite analogous, for the Papuans wear an article which is quite similar to what might be suggested by the drawings.

We now turn to a more psychological aspect of primitive Australian art, which includes such factors as convention and imagination. These processes lie behind the symbolization of thought which has evolved a means of pictographically conveying messages from one individual to another, or, collectively, from one tribe to another. Through long usage, the artist has learned to reduce the complexity of a familiar, naturalistic design in such a way that, while still retaining its intrinsic interpretation, he is able to demonstrate by a few lines what ordinarily would require an intricate drawing. The ultimate aim of such a system is, of course, to reduce the execution of a design to a minimum of energy and time, without imperilling the correctness of its interpretation. But whilst the artist is designing to simplify the complexity of his thought symbol, the reciprocative factor of assimilation on the part of his fellows is being stimulated. And by means of this joint education, a design, with a simple motive from Nature behind it, might gradually become so conventionalized that the uninitiated fails entirely to grasp its significance.

During this evolution, or, should one say, metamorphosis, in the perception of art, the tendency must necessarily be to smooth out the irregular and unsymmetrical contours of Nature and bring the design down to as nearly geometrical as possible. For the same reason, a single design is often repeated indefinitely, so that a single form derived from a simple motive may expand into a continuous chain or ornate pattern covering a considerable area. A large series of devices has been established, the majority of which are known all over the Australian continent; but, as the same time, there are many signs which are entirely of a “totemic” nature and can only be understood by a person belonging to that particular “totem.”

Let us take a few simple cases illustrating the different points enumerated above.

A simple drawing of a lizard would include a substantial body, with rounded head and tapering tail; the legs are usually extended, and at times have the claws marked. Vide Fig. 30.

The conventionalized form consists of a long straight line crossed at right angles by two shorter bars, at points about one-quarter and three-quarters distance respectively from one end.

A turtle design consists of an oval, representing the shield, from which extend the head, tail, and paddles. In its modified form this becomes a circle with six short lines radiating from the circumference at equal distances apart (Fig. 31).

The picture of a frog in its simplified form becomes, like that of a turtle, a circle, but has only four radiating lines (Fig. 32). When designs like these are expanded symmetrically into patterns, the result is after the style of that shown in the accompanying sketches. These patterns are extensively used in totemic devices upon tjuringas and implements.

The drawing of an echidna, or native hedgehog, ordinarily is like the sketch shown above (Fig. 33), but as a result of its conventional transformation it becomes a simple hexagon, from the corners of which the limbs may or may not be shown as simply projecting lines. The pattern obtained by linking up a number of hexagons is not uncommonly found engraved upon weapons and implements.