Should, however, the hollow be a deep one, he is obliged to have recourse to another plan. Descending the tree by the same notches as those by which he had climbed it, he takes from his bundle of belongings a fire-stick, i. e. a sort of tinderlike wood, which keeps up a smouldering fire, like that of the willow “touchwood” so dear to schoolboys. Wrapping up the fire-stick in a bundle of dry grass and leaves, he reascends the tree, and, when he has reached the entrance of the burrow, he whirls the bundle round his head until the fire spreads through the mass, and the grass bursts into flame.
As soon as it is well inflamed, he pushes some of the burning material into the burrow, so as to fall upon the enclosed animal, and to rouse it from the heavy sleep in which it passes the hours of daylight. He also holds the rest of the torch at the entrance of the burrow, and manages to direct the smoke into it. Did he not rouse the animal by the burning leaves, he would run a chance of suffocating it in its sleep. This may seem to be a very remote contingency, but in fact it is very likely to happen. I have known a cat to be baked alive in an oven, and yet not to have awaked from sleep, as was evident by the attitude in which the body of the animal was found curled up, with its chin on its paws, and its tail wrapped round its body. Yet the slumber of a domesticated cat, which can sleep as often as it likes in the day or night, is not nearly so deep as that which wraps in oblivion the senses of a wild animal that is abroad all night, and whose whole structure is intended for a nocturnal life.
The chopping holes, and getting the toes into them, seems in theory to be rather a tedious business, but in practice it is quite the contrary, the native ascending almost as quickly as if he were climbing a ladder. As the large trees are so capable of containing the animals on which the Australians feed, there is scarcely one which does not exhibit several series of the notches that denote the track of a native. Strange to say, the Australian hunters will not avail themselves of the notches that have been made by other persons, but each man chops a new series of holes for himself every time that he wants to ascend a tree.
Sometimes a man sees the track of an animal or the indication of a bee’s nest on a tree when he happens not to have an axe in hand. In such a case he is still able to ascend the tree, for he can make use of the dagger which has been already described, punching holes in the bark, and pulling himself up exactly as if he had a tomahawk, the only difference being that the holes are smaller and the work is harder.
When the hunter has once found the entrance of the burrow, the capture of the inmate is simply a matter of time, as the heat and smoke are sure to force it into the air, where it has the double disadvantage of being half-choked with smoke and being blind with the flame and the daylight, to which its eyes are unaccustomed. A blow on the head from the tomahawk, or a stab from the dagger, renders it senseless, when it is flung on the ground, and the successful hunter proceeds to traverse the tree in case some other animal may be hidden in it.
The skill of the natives in tree climbing is also exercised for another purpose besides hunting for bees and animals. The well-known cabbage-palm grows to a very great height, and, like other palms, never grows quite straight, but has always a bend in the trunk. After the manner of the palm-tribe, it grows by a succession of buds from the top, and this bud, popularly called the “cabbage,” is a favorite article of food. It has been called the prince of vegetables, and one enthusiastic traveller declares that it must have been the ambrosia of the Olympic gods. The removal of the bud causes the death of the tree, and for that reason the vegetable is forbidden in civilized regions under penalty of a heavy fine. The savage, however, who has no idea of care for the morrow, much less of looking forward to future years, takes the bud wherever he meets it, caring nothing for the death of the useful tree. He ascends by means of a little wooden dagger, or warpoo, or makes use of the tomahawk. The quartz dagger which was shown in a previous [illustration] would not be used for tree climbing, unless the owner could not procure a tomahawk or warpoo. Its chief use is as a weapon, and it can be also employed as a knife, by means of which the savage can mutilate a fallen enemy, after the manner which will be described when we come to treat of warfare in Australia.
The “black-boy” gum, which plays so large a part in the manufacture of Australian weapons and implements, is obtained from the grass-tree, popularly called the “black boy,” because at a distance it may easily be mistaken for a native, with his spear and cloak. It is very tenacious in its own country, but when brought to England it becomes brittle, and is apt to break away from the weapon in fragments, just as does a similar preparation called “kurumanni” gum, which is made by the natives of Guiana. It is quite black, and when dry is extremely hard.
The grass-tree is one of the characteristic plants of Australia, and partakes of the strange individuality of that curious country. The trunk is cylindrical, and looks like that of a palm, while an enormous tuft of long leaves starts from the top and droops in all directions, like a gigantic plume of feathers. The flower shoots up straight from the centre; and the long stalk becomes, when dried, so hard, tough, and light, that it is made into spear shafts.
There is in my collection an [Australian saw] (illustrated on page 722), in the manufacture of which the black-boy gum plays a considerable part. No one would take it for a saw who did not know the implement, and indeed it looks much more like a rude dagger than a saw. It is made from a piece of wood usually cut from a branch of the gum-tree, and about as thick as a man’s finger at the thickest part, whence it tapers gradually to a point. The average length of the saw is fourteen inches, though I have seen them nearly two feet long.
Along the thicker end is cut a groove, which is intended to receive the teeth of the saw. These teeth are made from chips of quartz or obsidian, the latter being preferred; and some makers, who have been brought in contact with civilization, have taken to using fragments of glass bottles. A number of flat and sharp-edged chips are selected as nearly as possible of the same size, and being on an average as large as a shilling. These the natives insert into the groove with their sharp edges uppermost. A quantity of black-boy wax is then warmed and applied to them, the entire wood of the saw being enveloped in it, as well as the teeth for half their depth, so as to hold them firmly in their places. As the chips of stone are placed so as to leave little spaces between them, the gaps are filled in with this useful cement.