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On the chest of another hung a huge disc of polished fossil clam-shell. "Plenty strong fella fight," Sheldon warned them in conclusion. They grinned and shifted delightedly. "S'pose bushmen kai-kai along you?" he queried. "No fear," answered their spokesman, one Koogoo, a strapping, thick-lipped Ethiopian-looking man. "S'pose Poonga-Poonga boy kai-kai bush-boy?"
But there was no rustle, no movement; nothing but the humid oppressive silence. "Bushmen he no stop," Binu Charley called out, the sound of his voice startling more than one of them. "Allee same damn funny business. That fella Koogoo no look 'm eye belong him. He no savvee little bit." Koogoo's arms had crumpled under him, and he lay quivering where he had fallen.
Joan and Sheldon heard the twanging thrum and saw Koogoo throw out his arms, at the same time dropping his rifle, stumble forward, and sink down on his hands and knees. Between his naked shoulders, low down and to the left, appeared the bone-barbed head of an arrow. He had been shot through and through. Cocked rifles swept the bush with nervous apprehension.
For the most part it was a silent forest, lush and dank, where only occasionally a wood-pigeon cooed or snow-white cockatoos laughed harshly in laborious flight. Here, in the mid-morning, the first casualty occurred. Binu Charley had dropped behind for a time, and Koogoo, the Poonga-Poonga man who had boasted that he would eat the bushmen, was in the lead.
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