became very large—as large as a great many trees—and Koob-borr sat in the tree until evening; and evening brought back the blacks. The blacks were very thirsty; the day had been hot; and they had not found any water in the places where they had been. The first man that reached the camp cried out, "My tarnuk is gone!"—(Tarnoeek koonga-tool); and another came and said, "My tarnuk is gone!" And they all came, and they found that all the tarnuks had been taken away. They searched for them. Some went to the creek, thinking that they might have been left there, but they could not find them. Worse than the loss of the tarnuks was the discovery that the creek was dry. Presently one of the men saw the big tree. "Ky!" said he, "what is that?"—(Ky! Anging-je-kobbee?); and they all looked, and they saw their tarnuks hanging on the high boughs, and little Koob-borr sitting in the midst of them. "Wah!" says one, "is that you?"—(Wah! ke noogarra?). Have you any water there?"—(Nga boona paun kolen-noo?). "Yes," replied Koob-borr, "here am I, and I have plenty of water; but I will not give you one drop, because you would not give me any when I was nearly dying for the want of water." Some now proposed to ascend the tree, but they were afraid to attempt it, because it was so high. They were all very thirsty; something they determined to do; and two of the men at length commenced to climb the big tree. Koob-borr laughed at them, and let fall a little water on them, and they loosened their hold of the tree, and fell to the ground and were killed. Two men again attempted to climb to the bough on which Koob-borr was seated, but he treated them in the same way, and they too fell down and were killed. Two more attempted to climb, and again they fell down and were killed, and two more, until nearly all the men of the tribe were killed. Then men of other tribes came, and two by two they attempted to ascend, and Koob-borr spilled water on them, and they fell down and were killed. At length Ta-jerr and Tarrn-nin (the sons of Pund-jel) came to the relief of the blacks. They proposed a plan of ascending the tree, which proved successful. They climbed round and round,
and was regarded by all as a very wise man and doctor. When a black man dreams of bears, it is a sad omen. All the people are afraid when any one dreams of bears. One time, when there were about two hundred blacks at Nerre-nerre-Warreen (on the Yarra), including about eighteen children attending the school, Kur-bo-roo had a dream. He dreamt that he was surrounded by bears. He awoke in a great fright about one o'clock in the morning, and at once aroused the whole encampment. It was half an hour or more before I could discover the cause of the great excitement everywhere apparent. Fires were suddenly set ablaze. The young blacks climbed the trees, cut down boughs, and fed the fires. The men, women, and children rushed hither and thither, displaying the greatest terror. I reasoned with them, sought to soothe them, endeavoured to control them; but all my efforts were useless. They fled from the spot where they had so long lived in comfort. By eight o'clock in the morning the forest was a solitude—not a soul remained; and all because of a dream of Kur-bo-roo."—The late Wm. Thomas's MS.
"The Laplanders will call the bear 'the old man with the fur coat,' but they do not like to mention his name."—Tylor, p. 145.
The Father of the Stairs is made to say, in Episodes in an Obscure Life, that in Labrador "They're very frightened o' makin' bears angry, both whites and blacks; they think there's a deal of knowingness, like witches, in 'em. They're a queer lot, them Esqueemaws. . . . ."—P. 166.
The curious reader may refer for further information respecting the bear and the fables connected with him to the anthropological treatises of Blumenbach (Anthropological Society's volume, 1865, p. 80), and to the various works there quoted. But our beast is not a bear, and the natives, of course, never heard him so called until the whites came.
