It was a pity, Unyama declared, that the tribe should lose one who was undaunted in the hunt, clever beyond his fellows in tracking and killing game, who had faithfully obeyed the injunctions of the old men at his initiation and had never been known to covet or molest the young women. But the medicine man, Urgali, had demanded the death sentence, maintaining that evil would befall the tribe if the murderer were not eliminated.
‘If it is permissible, I should like to see this young man,’ Ooloo said, ‘for it would seem he has some of the qualities I saw in my own son and while I do not condone the murder of one’s companions, you have said sufficient to intrigue me. I wish I had arrived in time to hear his story from his own lips.’
The guest had expressed a wish. Hospitality demanded that it should be fulfilled. Unyama thought of the tribe’s well stocked larder and ease with which even the youngest children and the oldest gins could collect a meal of fat white grubs or caterpillars. They had plenty of everything and of all things of which they had an abundance they had most of time.
‘It shall be as you desire,’ he told Ooloo. ‘The uncle of Kuduna can bring his poisoned spear tomorrow. Today we shall question Wendourie again and you, a stranger and therefore impartial, shall give us the benefit of your wisdom and advice.’
Ooloo sat upon a tree stump in the place of honour beside the headman. In a semicircle before them sat the men of the tribe, the greyheads squatting in the front rows, behind them the young bucks; at the rear and at a respectful distance, the women. On the outskirts, too far away for their noisy fun to distract, the children played.
‘Let Wendourie be brought,’ Unyama ordered.
‘Wait.’ It was Urgali, the Munamulla medicine man, striding toward them. He was long and thin and the lines of pipe-clay drawn in half-circles from shoulder to hip and down the thighs and shins emphasised his height and his authority. He paused in front of the headman. ‘Last night,’ he announced, ‘I projected myself into space. I saw many things on the earth below and much in the sky above. I searched behind the thickest and blackest clouds but I saw nothing to bear out the story Wendourie has told. Many heard me returning to earth. Is it not so?’ he cried, throwing out his skinny hands in a gesture of appeal to the young bucks.
‘It is so,’ they shouted.
‘I descended into a large tree and made my way through the branches. I was heard. Is it not so?’
‘It is so,’ the young men cried again.
‘And leaped to the ground in the presence of some, leaving my footprints for all to see. I twisted my ankle. Behold, I limp.’ He demonstrated, walking up and down, lamely, then, stopping in front of the headman and Ooloo, folded his arms. ‘I have spoken,’ he said. ‘It is unwise to hold further talk upon this matter.’
‘We have a guest,’ Unyama said. ‘He cannot be deprived of our hospitality.’
‘Death waits for us all,’ Ooloo said quietly. ‘It will not mind waiting a little longer for Wendourie.’
‘Besides,’ the headman said, ‘it will pass the time of which we have more than enough.’ He called his guest’s attention to the approach of a young man, guarded on either side by three bucks. ‘See, here is Wendourie. Let us hear his story again that our friend may carry word of our justice to the Narranyeri.’
Ooloo, gazing at the young man who stepped, unarmed, before his headman, felt a sudden tug at his throat, for here was his own son again. The same age, the same proud stance, the same clear eye flashing defiance.
‘Wendourie,’ the headman said gravely, ‘would it not be wise to confess that all you have said is but a fine story and one that will go down to our children and their children and be repeated at campfires long, long after we have all joined the spirits?’
‘All I have spoken,’ the young man said, ‘is the truth.’
Unyama said, ‘So be it. Here is a stranger who is our welcome guest. He would hear what you have to say.’
Wendourie looked long and earnestly as if he would divine what manner of man Ooloo was. The old one said, ‘Be of courage.’
Wendourie bowed. ‘When the stranger goes he will take the truth with him.’
The medicine man, Urgali, made an impatient gesture. ‘So be it,’ he said and pointed a skinny finger. ‘You, Wendourie, went forth with your friend, Kuduna. But you returned alone. Why?’
Wendourie folded his arms. ‘It is as I have said. A hole was suddenly in his forehead and he was dead.’
‘A small hole, you said?’ The headman was anxious his guest should be impressed.
‘No larger than the top of my thumb,’ Wendourie agreed.
Urgali cried, ‘So small a thing! Had I been there I would have sucked the place and spat out the magic.’
Wendourie regarded him calmly. ‘Since you are so powerful, why did you not know what had happened?’
There was a murmur of surprise and awe at the boldness of the question. Unyama shifted uneasily on his seat, wondering how the medicine man would take it, but Ooloo, with his own private views, found his heart warming to the young man. Urgali made light of it. He bent double and cackled with thin laughter. ‘Why did I not know, simple one?’ he asked at length, looking toward the young men for support. ‘Because it never happened!’
The following laughter was quickly suppressed by Unyama. ‘This is not a campfire gossip,’ he said. ‘Let us behave with circumspection before our visitor. Let us make it plain to him what happened!’
Urgali bowed low. ‘With all respect,’ he said, ‘I submit it should first be made plain to our guest that our young men are not so effete that they die from trifling holes in their foreheads.’
‘It is known far and wide that we are a hardy race,’ Unyama said. ‘Let us not dally with self-evident facts. Proceed, Wendourie.’
The young man said, ‘We, Kuduna and I, were three days’ walk from here when…’
Urgali was waving his arms, shouting, ‘Hear, you of the Narranyeri. There was wrongdoing from the beginning. Three days from here in the direction which Wendourie took would take him into the territory of the Koliju.’ He whirled on the accused man. ‘Did you carry a message stick?’
‘No.’
‘You were trespassing with evil intent?’
‘No. I did not realise where we were.’
‘So!’ Urgali looked about him triumphantly. ‘The great hunter, Wendourie, was lost.’
The young men in the semicircle laughed and even the grey-heads smiled but Ooloo remarked smoothly, ‘It might be. Temporarily, of course. I myself, busy with my thoughts, have sometimes momentarily forgotten my exact whereabouts.’
Urgali spoke with false deference. ‘But you, welcome one, are weighted with years. You have much to ponder. Wendourie, however, is young and without responsibility.’ He pointed an emaciated finger at the youth. ‘I suggest to you that you lured Kuduna into foreign territory the more easily to hide his body.’
Unyama said testily, ‘Let us get on with the matter of the magic tracks. Proceed, Wendourie.’
The young man said, ‘Kuduna saw them first and called to me excitedly. It was late in the day but there was still time to follow them. They were like no tracks I have ever seen. At first they were a little confused but presently they became quite clear.’
Unyama beckoned one of Wendourie’s guards. ‘Bring two long sticks with blunt ends,’ he ordered and said in an undertone to his guest, ‘Now you will see something.’
The medicine man said, ‘We have had all this before.’
‘I am anxious to see and know all,’ Ooloo remarked suavely, and presently Wendourie was holding the sticks that had been brought, one in either hand, trailing them after him, pressing their ends into the dusty ground, making two roughly parallel lines.
He explained to Ooloo. ‘Thus were the tracks, but thicker and even and always even, and ever between them great marks made by some monster.’