oo was afraid to kill Stobart openly, therefore he had prepared
powerful magic and was going to "bone" him. Stobart guessed this, and
took the chance of showing his power over the native doctor. He caught
hold of the irna by the string, pulled it out of the sand, and walked
back to the camp with it.

The men were all feasting round the fire. Arrkroo was amongst them,
eating sparingly, as is the habit with the native doctors, and no doubt
thinking what he was going to do to-morrow when he boned the hated
white man. Everybody looked up when Stobart came into the firelight.
One or two of the men saw the irna and called out, and at once the
whole tribe was on its feet in alarm. Arrkroo saw it also and shook
with fear. The white man was indeed a devil, for how else could he
have found a little bone stuck in the sand on a dark night? In an
instant the fire was deserted. The frightened natives crouched behind
wurlies and breakwinds, dreading least the white man should point that
deadly bone at them. But Stobart swung it by its hair string till it
was over the hottest part of the fire and then let it drop. The string
frizzled instantly, the knob of spinifex melted and flared up, and the
bone was soon reduced to white powder.

CHAPTER XXVII

The Dance of Death

Arrkroo, the Hater, had failed again. Stobart had openly triumphed
over him by burning his deadly irna. The native feared this white man,
but hated him more than he feared him, and was more than ever resolved
to bring about his death.

Several days later, an old man of the tribe, named Wuntoo, became ill.
Blacks have a great respect for age, and the sickness of Wuntoo caused
great sorrow. A solemn gathering of all the men was called. Arrkroo
was there and so was Stobart, for the white captive did not want to
arouse suspicion or unfriendly feelings by staying away. The sickness
of Wuntoo was, of course, attributed to magic; some enemy of the old
man had boned him. It was, therefore, the duty of the gathering to
find out and to punish the man who had done this, whether he was a
member of their own tribe or whether he lived several hundred miles
away.

Arrkroo was the only man present who really knew what ailed Wuntoo, for
he himself had put poison in the old man's food--the juice of a
narrow-leafed vine which grew only in the Valley of the Skulls. He had
used this same poison to kill every prospector who had found the
golden-sanded pool. Afte