But the other boy was not to have his theories as to the weather brushed aside lightly.  It was “that fella along a mountain,” who caused the trouble, or else “another boy alonga Hinchinbrook!” Having thus completely and satisfactorily settled the point, his face assumed a slow, wise smile, and his agitated mind rested.  Was it not all another palpable proof, a precedent to be cited, of the manner in which a no-good-boy wantonly brought about a big wind?

Most of the dainties are forbidden the young members of the camp.  Bony bream and bony herring will be passed on to the boys and girls, and, so too, the rough parts of turtle; but the sweet fish and flesh are retained by the old and lusty men, who proclaim that they alone may eat of such things with impunity.  No youngster will dare to partake of echidna ("coom-be-yan”) at the risk of the prescribed consequences; and to the old men the fiction stands in the place (as was recently pointed out) of an annuity or old age pension.

A DINNER-PARTY

To fare sumptuously every day was not the lot of the natives of Dunk Island.  In excessively rainy weather they were often glad of the coarsest and hardest of foods.  Certain sharks are eaten with avidity whenever they are secured; but some species are too rank and tough to be endurable under any but extraordinary circumstances.  Oysters were always plentiful, but a diet restricted to the most delicate of molluscs palls on the palate even of a black fellow.  Ordinarily, food was abundant.  For the most part it had only to be picked up and cooked.  Frequently it was eaten on the spot, fresh from bountiful Nature’s hands; but blacks appreciate changes of diet—­even when the change is retrogressive—­from the well-cooked, clean food of a white household to that of the sodden and strong stuffs common to the camp.  When, as sometimes happened, the desire for novelty came, the whole population would paddle away to the mainland or to one or other of the adjacent islands, voyages being undertaken as far away as distant Hinchinbrook.  Turtle do not favour the beaches and sandbanks of Dunk Island generally as safe depositories for their innumerable eggs, and when the longing came for these delicacies the inhabitants would with one accord travel to those islands in the security of which turtle still exhibit faith.  The drift of the population hither and thither was not due to the scarcity of food but to a wayward impulse.  As a rule there was little for the population to do save to eat, drink, laze away the hotter hours of the day, and “corrobboree” at night.

Astonishment can scarcely be withheld when an attempt is made to catalogue the available foods of the island, the variety and quantity.  No effort was made at cultivation.  Blacks took no heed of the morrow, but accepted the fruits of the earth without thought of inciting Nature to produce better or more abundantly, and yet how plenteous were her gifts!