You see, he would of course travel about, looking at any tracks he came on, trying to find her, and so Murraweedbee—for that was her name—dragged this branch along after her like a rake, to scratch and mix up her tracks, so that nobody could possibly recognize them. Instead of disguising herself, she disguised her footprints.
When at last we arrived at the Reach, the lubras went into the water to gather lilies, and Bett-Bett and I poked about in the sand after crocodiles’ eggs.
She would never hunt for these eggs on the Roper River. She said the sea-going crocodiles were “cheeky fellow,” and would “round you up” if you did.
Then she told me a thrilling experience she had had once. She was scratching about on the banks of the Roper River and found a nest of eggs. She was just gathering them up, when she heard a splash, and saw the mother crocodile swimming across the river. “My word! me race quickfellow,” she said, and she looked terribly frightened as she remembered how nearly she had been caught. She had evidently just seen the mother in time. Crocodiles in the land-locked pools were “frightened fellow,” she said, so it was always safe to take their eggs. They were too timid to round you up.”
She scratched around for a while and then told me that “crocodiles all day knock up longa egg,” meaning they could not be bothered with looking after them, but just left them to hatch in the sand, keeping one eye on them in case of accidents.
Bett-Bett was only eight years old, but what she didn’t know about natural history was hardly worth knowing; but then she had the best teacher in all the world—Mother Nature. She never wearies her pupils, but punishes them pretty severely when they make mistakes. The most certain way of learning that crocodiles watch their eggs, and that sea-going crocodiles are fiercest, is to be chased by the mother. Bett-Bett certainly knew her lessons, which is more than can be said of many white children. They were only timid crocodiles in the Long Reach, and after a long hunt in the sand, we came on a nest of eggs, and Bett-Bett broke one, and, there all ready to hatch, we saw a tiny crocodile, curled up like a clock spring. These eggs are very curious; they seem to have two distinct shells and look exactly like a hen’s egg inside a duck’s egg.
The eggs we found were of no use for eating, so Bett-Bett covered them up again, keeping only one out, which she said would hatch next day. I asked her what she was going to do with it, but she only grinned impishly, and I knew she was up to some of her pranks.
As we went back to the lubras, we came on an old blackfellow, fishing in the water hole. He was standing on a tree trunk holding a spear, poised ready to dart at the first fish that came up to breathe. I called to him but he took no notice, and the lubras laughed and said he was “Old No-More-Hearem,” and threw stones at him.