marked out by the circle of ember-lights with a huge bonfire laid ready for lighting, in the centre, and behind it a gigantic and fantastically designed semblance of a human figure, of which the outlines could now be but dimly discerned. From the dense scrub at the back, shadowy barbaric forms now and then emerged, and strange wild sounds and the clash of weapons proceeded. These were the warriors preparing themselves for the dance. The gins were waiting for the signal, and crowded round the strangers, grotesque uncouth shapes, with naked bosoms and bare arms, and gleaming eyes, jabbering and gesticulating, and clamouring for tobacco and food. It amused Lady Waveryng to distribute figs of tobacco, cut into small pieces, which Blake handed her. Blake was in wild spirits. The excitement of the corroboree seemed to have infected him. He laughed, he chatted with the gins, he flung bits of tobacco for them to scramble after. His eyes shone, a mad gaiety possessed him. Trant, on the other hand, looked heavy and serious, as though his mind were preoccupied. Elsie observed that Sam Shehan and the two half-castes were also present, lounging in the back ground, the half-castes conspicuous in their white shirts and red handkerchief-belts and neckties, grinning and cutting capers in impish glee, but taking no part in the corroboree itself. Sam Shehan leaned against a tree, dour and unprepossessing, so much so that Elsie said to Trant,
"I can't imagine why you employ that man; he has such a horrid face, and you know people used to say he was a cattle-stealer."
Trant laughed. "He is a reformed character now, Miss Valliant, and he is devoted to me and Blake. You see we gave him his chance. A fellow can't help being born with a sour expression, can he? His appearance is against him. There isn't a better stockman than Sam Shehan on the Luya."
"The half-castes look as if they ought to belong to a pantomime," said Lady Waveryng. "I never saw such droll creatures, I'd like to take Pompo back with me.
