"You, where did you get this?" he demanded.
And the Baker related as simply as possible what they had found by the billabong. His recital was listened to with groans, and one woman shrieked, and was taken away by the others. She was his wife, and apparently the dead man was the chief's brother. When the Baker finished, he placed his coat under Smith's head, and his chum fell fast asleep.
But now the camp was in agitation, and every one got out his arms, which were all of a kind resembling black-fellows' weapons. But most of the clubs were of gold, with wooden handles, and some were globular, some pear-shaped, and some the shape of a jagged nugget. When they were ready, the chief called to the Baker:
"You will stay, and I will leave five men here. To-morrow night we shall be back. You are friends. But if you are not, we will burn you alive."
And he departed with fifteen others towards the river, while the Baker lay down under a kangaroo skin, given him by the girl who had offered him food.
"She'd be good-looking if she'd comb her hair, and take her first bath," said the Baker. "But who they are, and what they are, and 'ow they came here, just licks me."
He fell asleep, and every time he woke during the night he heard the melancholy wail of the bereaved woman. It struck him as if she ought not to feel it so much, being so savage to look at.
When he woke in the morning, he found Smith sitting up with his hands to his head.
"Am I crazy, Baker?"
"If you are, I am," said the Baker.