sat talking away to each other at a great
rate for some minutes; then, having placed their sentinels and wished
each other good-night, they put their heads under their wings and
prepared for sleep. They little thought of the subtle foe in their
neighbourhood.

Having got close under the tree without being perceived, Pullingo drew
his boomerang from his belt, and retired a few paces from his shelter;
then running forward, to give power to his arm, till his feet touched
the margin of the stream, and throwing his right hand, which held the
boomerang, over his back, he cast it directly before him with all the
force of his arm. These different movements had scarcely occupied three
seconds. The sentinels, meanwhile, had given a warning sound, and the
birds seemed to be aware that all was not right. When, however, they
saw the weapon flying towards the surface of the water, they appeared
satisfied that it had nothing to do with them.

But instead of dropping into the stream, as might have been expected, it
suddenly took a new direction; and flying up into the air with
irresistible force, came turning round and round in the most
extraordinary manner, with a whizzing sound, into the very midst of the
cockatoos' roosting-place, continuing its course among them--killing one
outright, breaking the wing of another, sending another squalling to the
ground, cutting open their heads, and committing all sorts of damage
among the feathered inhabitants of the trees. In vain the unfortunate
cockatoos, overcome with astonishment, uttered their cries of despair;
in vain they endeavoured to escape the awful blows of this apparently
enchanted piece of wood; the boomerang continued its eccentric course,
not ceasing its gyrations till it had knocked over nearly a dozen birds,
and had fallen close to the spot where its owner stood ready to receive
it.

It was the first time I had ever seen the boomerang used, and I could
not have believed it capable of such performances had I not witnessed
them. Before the birds had recovered from their fright, the boomerang
was again in their midst, whizzing round and round, as if endued with
life, and committing almost as much damage as before. Pullingo was
preparing to throw it a third time, when the survivors of the cockatoos,
discovering that this was no secure resting-place for them, took to
flight, uttering mournful cries for their lost companions--several of
whom, having been roughly plucked, w