When we got out of the scrub we went along the side of a steep heap of debris overgrown with creeping plants, a difficult road, for the stones were continually loosened under our feet and rolled down with a tremendous crash. We saw nothing but old traces of boongary; on the other hand, I shot a specimen of the toollah (Pseudochirus archeri) described above. The dogs proved useless, my Gordon setter was, of course, too heavy to work in the scrub, to which she was not accustomed, and Chinaman’s dog also disappointed my expectations, for it refused to range at all, thereby making its master so angry that he pelted it with sticks. We had agreed to meet the women and Jimmy at the foot of the mountains, and when we reached the camp at dusk we found them already there; they had inspected all the poisoned meat lures, but none of them had been touched. Jimmy, however, had, to my great delight, found mongan (Pseudochirus herbertensis), a new and very pretty mammal, whose habitat is exclusively the highest tops of the scrubs in the Coast Mountains (see coloured plate).
Willy and Chinaman persisted in having the toollah which I had shot, and as our provisions were giving out, I was obliged to surrender it, much to my chagrin. I tried to keep the skin, but they eagerly objected that the animal would lose its flavour if roasted without it. In order to satisfy their hunger, I was therefore obliged to give them both the skin and the body.
They now threw the animal on the fire, in order to singe the hair off. Then they cut its belly open with a sharp piece of wood, placed it on the coals, and as soon as it was half roasted it was torn into several pieces and distributed, whereupon each one roasted his share. In this way the Australian prepares and roasts all small mammals. He does not like to eat the meat raw, but has not the patience to wait until it is thoroughly done. As soon as a crust is formed on the meat, he takes it from the coals and gnaws off the roasted part; he then puts it back to roast the rest.
The women returned from their expedition with a lot of fruit rather like red peas, called by the natives koraddan. It grows on a climbing plant found in abundance in the scrub, but as a rule cannot be reached from the ground, hence the women must climb the trees to gather it. The koraddan is roasted between grass and hot stones, and has a comparatively good flavour, smelling and tasting like boiled peas.
YARRI (Dasyurus maculatus).
I had much trouble in getting the natives to look after the strychnine lures, in the effect of which they had no faith, as they are not in possession of any kind of poison. I promised them tobacco if they could bring me the animal I wanted. At last they started, and one day, to my great surprise, they brought me a yarri. The natives having a superstition that “a great water will rise” if a young man picks up a dead yarri, Jimmy, who was the oldest, had to carry the animal, and at the head of the others he brought it in triumph to the camp, holding it carefully by the tail high in the air. Had he not been present, I doubt whether I should have obtained the animal.
I concealed my joy, and in order to test them insisted that it was not a yarri that they had caught, but they shouted wildly Yarri, yarri, yarri! declaring, however, that it was a young one. The skin was hardly three feet long from the snout to the end of the tail. It was of a yellowish-gray colour, with whitish round spots. It proved to be a Dasyurus maculatus, yarri being a name applied to the whole family of Dasyuridæ. I am, however, convinced that there exists a large animal of this kind that has not yet been discovered. The one which the natives particularly call yarri I shall have occasion to mention farther on.
I was sorry to find that the specimen now brought to me had been lying so long that it had already become greenish on the under side, and had a bad smell. As my knives were rather blunt, it was no pleasant task to flay the animal, whose skin is very tough. Unfortunately my knife slipped and cut a deep gash in my thumb. To prevent blood-poisoning I applied caustic and carbolic acid, and continued my work with a bandage on my thumb.
One day I secured a specimen of the wonderful Hypsiprymnodon moschatus, which forms the connecting link between the kangaroos and the phalangers. This animal, called by the natives yopŏlo, is not very rare in the lower part of the scrubs, but is difficult to kill, as it haunts the banks of the rivers and is never seen on the grassy plain. When we walked along a river in the scrubs my blacks would often make a smacking sound that causes the animal, which is very curious, to come forth and thus be discovered. The yopolo is brown, and about the size of a stoat. Its lair is formed like a globular nest from fallen leaves near the root of a tree, but it is only to be discovered among the leaves and grass by the keen eyes of the blacks. The natives frequently succeed in catching the animal by placing their feet quickly on the lair, but as a rule the yopolo is hunted with a dingo.