r a lot of talk, which got more and more
excited and incoherent as the meeting went on, Stobart volunteered to
go and see the sick man. He knew that the natives would only sing over
the invalid, or give him sand to eat, or practise a repulsive and
harmful magic upon him, and he thought that perhaps some simple
treatment might make him right again. Stobart had gained influence
over the minds of the tribesmen, and was allowed to go. This was just
what Arrkroo had hoped for.

Next day Wuntoo was worse, due to another dose of the poison which the
crafty Arrkroo had administered. A second meeting was called. The old
man was dying. Arrkroo arrived with freshly painted body and new
feathers in his hair, and addressed the men with all the powers at his
command. He felt that, if he failed to defeat the white man this time,
his authority in the tribe would be gone for ever. He danced before
his listeners, lifting his striped legs high, and swaying his body this
way and that till the designs in white and red hypnotized the natives
and held them spell-bound.

Even Stobart felt the evil power of the man. When he had got their
minds under his control, he chanted to them of the great days of the
Alcheringa when they were a powerful fair-skinned race of giants, and
had everything that their hearts could desire. He went on to tell of
one misfortune after another which had befallen them: their bodies had
grown small, their skins black, and droughts had changed the earth from
a garden into a desert. The warraguls listened, swaying their bodies
as Arrkroo swayed his, and breaking out at times in wild shouts of
agreement. Arrkroo was an orator in his primitive way, and he now had
his audience completely at his command. He could do what he liked with
it.

He began to talk of white men: of the way in which they had invaded the
country and driven the natives back and back till now a mere handful of
them survived in such places as the Musgrave Ranges. But the hated
white men were never satisfied. They wanted the Musgraves too. They
wanted the gold which was there. Everybody present knew the fate of
the white prospectors, and that if once the secret was known, such a
rush would set in that the warraguls would be driven out of this, their
last great stronghold.

Arrkroo turned towards Stobart. Every man in the gathering looked at
him also. "See," shouted the Hater in the native tongue. "See. White
man. He find gold. Hi