From The Earliness Of The Hour - For The Smokes As A Rule Do Not
Rise Before 9 A.M. - It Was Clear That He Could Not Have Come Far, So,
Picking Up His Tracks, We Followed Them Back To His Camp.
Though we were
not in great want of water, I considered it always advisable to let no
chance of getting some slip by, since one never can tell how long the
next may be in coming.
The tracks led us along the foot of one ridge; along the next, some
three hundred yards distant, the ladies of the tribe could be seen
marching along, laughing and chattering, and occasionally giving forth
the peculiar shrill yell which only the gins can produce. It is
impossible to describe a noise in writing, but the sound is not unlike a
rather shrill siren, and the word shouted is a long-drawn "Yu-u-u." There
is no mistaking the women's voices, the men's cry is somewhat deeper.
Both are rather weird sounds, more especially when heard in thick scrub
where one can see no natives, though one hears them all round. In the
spinifex they were easily seen, and to their cry an answering yell came
over the ridge and other women and children appeared. Presently they saw
our caravan, and the "Yu-u-u" became fainter and fainter as the group
scattered in all directions, and was lost to view. At the end of the
tracks we found a camp, and in it the only attempt at a roofed shelter
that we saw in the desert, and this merely a few branches leant against a
small tree.
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