sons on earth,
and great was their grief, and wroth were they with their husband, for
well they knew now that he must have been the devil in the whirlwind,
who had so punished the boys. They vowed to avenge the loss of their
boys.

The next day they went out and gathered a lot of pine gum, and brought
it back to the camp. When they reached the camp the old man called to
one of his wives to come and tease his hair, as his head ached, and
that alone would relieve the pain. One of the women went over to him,
took his head on her lap, and teased his hair until at last the old man
was soothed and sleepy. In the meantime the other wife was melting the
gum. The one with the old man gave her a secret sign to come near; then
she asked the old man to lie on his back, that she might tease his
front hair better. As he did so, she signed to the other woman, who
quickly came, gave her some of the melted gum, which they both then
poured hot into his eyes, filling them with it. In agony the old man
jumped up and ran about, calling out, "Mooregoo, mooregoo," as he ran.
Out of the camp he ran and far away, still crying out in his agony, as
he went. And never again did his wives see him though every night they
heard his cry of "Mooregoo, mooregoo." But though they never saw their
husband, they saw a night hawk, the Mopoke, and as that cried always,
"Mooregoo, moregoo," as their husband had cried in his agony, they knew
that he must have turned into the bird.

After a time the women were changed into Mooninguggahgul, or mosquito
birds. These birds arc marked on the wings just like a mosquito, and
every summer night you can hear them cry out incessantly,
"Mooninguggahgul," which cry is the call for the mosquitoes to answer
by coming out and buzzing in chorus. And as quickly the mosquitoes come
out in answer to the summons, the Mooninguggahgul bid them fly
everywhere and bite all they can.

25. BOUGOODOOGAHDAH THE RAIN BIRD

Bougoodoogahdah was all old woman who lived alone with her four hundred
dingoes. From living so long with these dogs she had grown not to care
for her fellow creatures except as food. She and the dogs lived on
human flesh, and it was her cunning which gained such food for them
all. She would sally forth from her camp with her two little dogs; she
would be sure to meet some black fellows, probably twenty or thirty,
going down to the creek. She would say, "I can tell you where there are
lots of paddy melons."