The natives seem to take great pleasure in these encounters. They have afforded them on such occasions the opportunity of displaying their skill as gymnasts and in the use of their various weapons, and of proving their superiority, not only to the enemy with whom they may be engaged, but to the warriors of their own tribe. Emulation leads them to attempt feats of daring, and during the excitement of a general engagement they freely risk their lives. In many cases warrior is pitted against warrior, and those thus engaged are not molested by either enemies or friends. It would appear that unfair advantage is seldom taken. They fight, too, when there is no actual ill-will between the combatants, rather for the display of skill and agility than for the purpose of shedding blood. A great battle between two tribes is not a brawl—a brutal, savage, bloodthirsty onset—but generally a well-devised set-to between the fighting-men of each side. Towards the end, when the blood is heated—when the yells and screams of the women and children are added to the hoarse shouts of the warriors, when wives rush in to protect their husbands, and mothers cling to their sons to shelter them and help them—there are many blows struck in anger, and much mischief is occasionally done; but the combats between the fighting-men are not usually attended by very serious consequences. The jumping, dancing, and spear-throwing induce a copious perspiration, and the war paint begins to take new forms, and the ornaments they have assumed get disarranged; but beyond these casualties and a few ugly knocks, they come out of the fight most often scatheless.
To a stranger—one new to the country—a great fight amongst the natives is calculated to create alarm. The decorations of the warriors (except for their paint and feathers or boughs, naked), their loud cries as they advance, the shaking of the spears, the rattling of the clubs and other weapons as they strike the shields or the trees, the wailing of the women, and the general aspect of the assembled tribes, all—even including the grouping of the dogs—showing a state of unusual excitement and turmoil, are likely enough to raise feelings of terror. And then the scenery, so little in keeping with the violent motions of the warriors and their savage yells, adds, by contrast, to the sternness of the picture. Bounding the space where the combat is going on are uumerous ancient gum-trees, whose richly-colored boles, sheltering here and there a cherry-tree clad in bright-green foliage, present in themselves exquisite pictures, and perhaps, if the season is spring, the banks of the neighbouring creek will be clothed with wattle-trees in luxuriant blossom. The sward on which the warriors are trampling is a short smooth grass, and beyond, seen through the trees, are gentle slopes, at the foot of one or more of which are the miams of the tribe, from whose fires thin blue smoke rises and seems to blend in the color of the unclouded sky.
Only amongst uncivilized peoples and in forests where the axe of the white man has not been heard can such scenes be witnessed; and though they may induce disgust and abhorrence, they are not altogether devoid of those elements which serve to elevate our species. When the fight is over, the wounded are well cared for. The animosity which influenced some of the more truculent of the warriors is forgotten or concealed, and not seldom help is given
