"Do these blackfellows live in huts?" asked John.
"That's where their laziness manifests itself again," said the mayor, smiling. "The blackfellow has no permanent dwelling. His shelter is a cave or overhanging rock, as an animal might select one; sometimes it is only a large section of bark which he tears from a tree, and under which he walks or squats in storms or lies at night."
"Back in the States," remarked Tom, "we hear much about the skill of these fellows with the boomerang. I dare say a lot of these stories are overdone."
"Possibly," said their host, "and yet it is a fact that these natives are undoubtedly more adept at casting various forms of wooden implements than any other people in the world. Their very indolence leads them to adopt all sorts of easy-made weapons, and wood is surely one of the most common materials for the purpose one could find. Clubs of all kinds are hurled at prey or human enemies. Among these the boomerang is a favorite. They have several forms. One type is very light, round on one side and flat on the other, and slightly twisted on its axis. It is used almost entirely for play, though sometimes to hurl at flocks of birds in the sky. The war and hunting boomerangs are much heavier; they are bent differently, and do not return to the thrower, but are a deadly weapon in the hands of these bushmen at ranges up to four hundred feet. But stone-pointed spears are their chief weapons."
"With this skill I presume they have no trouble in securing enough to eat," suggested Paul, sipping his cocoa.
"On the contrary, there are times when weather conditions, such as drouth, make it a very difficult matter for some tribes to get sufficient food. Then they will turn to human flesh, and will eat men who have fallen to their weapons, or their own tribesmen who have succumbed to disease or hunger. Even infants are sometimes killed and eaten by their parents."
"Horrible!" cried the flyers. This seemed almost incredible, with civilization in abundance so near.
"I agree with you," said Mr. Bailey, failing to notice his wife holding up a protesting finger toward him. "Of course the blackfellow prefers to have other foods when he can get them. The kangaroo, wallaby, and opossum, form his chief food supply, but no animal or nourishing plant is neglected. He even eats ants, caterpillars, moths, beetles, grubs, snakes, lizards, often uncooked——"
At that point Mr. Bailey felt a sharp twist of his ear, and looking up, found his wife gazing at him with a very severe expression.
"Thomas Bailey! You are a cannibal yourself! Where is your sense of propriety? Have you lost your head in your interest in this subject? Don't you know you are eating?—that you have guests here who are also eating?"