The Little Black Princess — Part 55

Of course the man who has been “sung” must be told somehow, or he will not get a fright and die. There are many ways of managing this; one very good way is to put the bone where he will be sure to find it, in his dilly-bag, or near his fire, or through the handle of his spear. There are many ways of telling him, without letting him know who has “sung” him; but the man who leaves the bone about must, of course, be very careful to destroy his own tracks.

Have you ever heard of faith-healing? well, dying from bone-pointing is faith-dying! Goggle Eye, after he had found the bones lying about, knew exactly what was going to happen to him—and of course it did. His throat got very sore, and he grew so thin and weak that he could barely stand.

A man can be cured by magic men charming the “bone” away again; but Goggle Eye was old, and what was worse, he was getting very cross, and too fond of ordering people about, so the blackfellows thought that it would be the best plan not to cure him, and a few more sneaked away into the bush and “sang” some more “bones” and pointed them at him, to make quite sure about his dying.

It was fearfully cruel. Poor old Goggle Eye suffered so dreadfully, and the only friend he had—excepting the Missus—was Tommy Dod! Nobody else would do anything for him, because they were afraid of the curse coming to them. It couldn’t touch Tommy, because he was his blood-brother, and had to do all he could to help.

Old Jimmy and Billy Muck said they would like to help, but that if they made Goggle Eye’s fire for him, their own would never burn again. Nobody could even carry his food to him. To make matters worse, Tommy Dod had to go “bush” on some private business—perhaps he was singing some of his own enemies dead—and then I had to do everything myself.

Day after day I took his food to him, and made his fire, but I soon saw that it was too late. He ate anything that I brought him, and ordered me about generally, and growled at me for not putting enough sugar in his tea— he didn’t want sugar in his tea, what he preferred was a little tea in his sugar!

Sometimes a glimpse of the merry old rogue would peep out from the gaunt old skeleton. One day I was on my hands and knees at his fire, blowing hard at it.