This delighted the rest of the party, and they all began to arrange
their fishing lines, made from the bark of the yellow mimosa, and to
search for bait for their hooks. Most of them used worms, but one, who
had put a piece of raw meat for dinner into his skin wallet, cut off a
little bit and baited his line with it, unseen by his companions.
For a long time they cast patiently, without receiving a single bite;
the sun had grown low in the sky, and it seemed as if they would have
to go home empty-handed, not even with a basket of roots to show; when
the youth, who had baited his hook with raw meat, suddenly saw his line
disappear under the water. Something, a very heavy fish he supposed,
was pulling so hard that he could hardly keep his feet, and for a few
minutes it seemed either as if he must let go or be dragged into the
pool. He cried to his friends to help him, and at last, trembling with
fright at what they were going to see, they managed between them to
land on the bank a creature that was neither a calf nor a seal, but
something of both, with a long, broad tail. They looked at each other
with horror, cold shivers running down their spines; for though they
had never beheld it, there was not a man amongst them who did not know
what it was—the cub of the awful Bunyip!
All of a sudden the silence was broken by a low wail, answered by
another from the other side of the pool, as the mother rose up from her
den and came towards them, rage flashing from her horrible yellow eyes.
“Let it go! let it go!” whispered the young men to each other; but the
captor declared that he had caught it, and was going to keep it. “He
had promised his sweetheart,” he said, “that he would bring back enough
meat for her father’s house to feast on for three days, and though they
could not eat the little Bunyip, her brothers and sisters should have
it to play with.” So, flinging his spear at the mother to keep her
back, he threw the little Bunyip on to his shoulders, and set out for
the camp, never heeding the poor mother’s cries of distress.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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