“Missus!” a thin, cracked old voice whispered close to me as I sat sewing one evening. I looked up to see an old, old grey-haired blackfellow standing beside me.

“What name?” I said, feeling rather startled, and then something in his face made me look more closely at him, and I saw that it was Goggle Eye; but oh, such a worn old scarecrow! There was hardly a trace of the merry, laughing rogue, who had gone off, a few weeks before, with his bag of sugar tied round his neck.

“Poor old Goggle Eye!” I said, “whatever has happened?”

“Blackfellow bin sing me deadfellow longa bush,” he croaked in a hoarse whisper. “Flour-bag bin come on quickfellow longa me cobra,” he added, pointing to his grey old head, with its thickly-sprinkled “flour-bag,” as he called the white hairs.

I knew what this singing meant. He had been cursed —as completely as the little thieving “Jackdaw of Rheims”—by the magic men of the tribe. They had bewitched him by singing magic, and pointing death-bones at him, and he would die. Nothing that I could do would save him.

He looked so weak and worn that I gave him some brandy, and he lay down under the verandah. As he lay there, he told me that Tommy Dod, a blackfellow, had carried him thirty miles on his back to bring him in to me and the homestead. Tommy Dod was his younger blood-brother, and it was his duty to help the poor old fellow.

I called Tommy, and told him to make a bark humpy at the camp. He did this, and then carried Goggle Eye up to it, and lit his fire. Then we rolled him up in a blanket and gave him some food, and very soon the poor tired old King was asleep.

In the morning I took him up some arrowroot, and persuaded him to eat it all, telling him that it often killed blackfellow’s magic. I knew that if only I could make him believe this, I might cure him. After he had finished, I sat down in the camp, and Billy Muck, Jimmy, Tommy Dod and Goggle Eye told me all sorts of wonderful tales about “singing magic” and “bone-pointing.”

There are many ways of killing by magic, and if a blackfellow wants to get rid of an enemy, it is a much safer way than spearing, because he will not run any chance of being hurt himself, unless some one finds out who did the bone-pointing; when, of course, he would be “sung” in turn by way of revenge.

The way of killing by bone-pointing is this:—the blackfellow takes a sharp-pointed bone—the Roper blacks prefer a kangaroo’s, but some tribes say that a dead man’s bone is best; this bone is stuck in the ground, and the would-be murderer bends over it, and “sings magic” into it.

Supposing that he was going to make Goggle Eye die by magic, this is what he would sing: —

Kill Goggle Eye, kill Goggle Eye, make him deadfellow;
Pull away his fat, make him bone fellow;
Shut him up throat, shut him up throat;
Break him out heart, break him out heart;
Kill him deadfellow, kill him deadfellow;
Spose him eat fish, poison him with it;
Spose him eat bird, poison him with it.

And he would keep on singing, till he had sung or cursed everything he could think of; but he would not try to “sing water,” for nobody can do that.

Any one can “sing magic,” even lubras, but of course the wise old magic men do it best. It never fails with them, particularly if they “sing” and point one of the “Special Death-bones,” or “Sacred Stones” of the tribe. Generally a blackfellow goes away quite by himself when he is “singing magic,” but very occasionally a few men join together, as they did in the case of Goggle Eye.

When enough magic has been “sung” into the bone, it is taken away to the camp, and very secretly pointed at the unconscious victim. The magic spirit of the bone runs into the man who is pointed at, and gradually kills him.

Everything must be done very secretly, for if the man’s relatives had any idea who had done the bone-pointing, they would go and “sing” him in revenge. You must be particularly careful that there are no Willy-Waggle-tails or “Jenning-gherries” about, for these little mischief-makers would go and tell the cockatoos, who in their turn would make a dream about it, and carry it to the bewitched man when he was asleep, to let him know who had “sung” him.

Cockatoos make all the dreams, and carry them to the sleepers in the night. If you are lying awake, you may often hear them moving in the dark, for they are very restless birds. The best time to point bones is at night, for then all “Jenning-gherries” are asleep.

Of course the man who has been “sung” must be told somehow, or he will not get a fright and die. There are many ways of managing this; one very good way is to put the bone where he will be sure to find it, in his dilly-bag, or near his fire, or through the handle of his spear. There are many ways of telling him, without letting him know who has “sung” him; but the man who leaves the bone about must, of course, be very careful to destroy his own tracks.

Have you ever heard of faith-healing? well, dying from bone-pointing is faith-dying! Goggle Eye, after he had found the bones lying about, knew exactly what was going to happen to him—and of course it did. His throat got very sore, and he grew so thin and weak that he could barely stand.

A man can be cured by magic men charming the “bone” away again; but Goggle Eye was old, and what was worse, he was getting very cross, and too fond of ordering people about, so the blackfellows thought that it would be the best plan not to cure him, and a few more sneaked away into the bush and “sang” some more “bones” and pointed them at him, to make quite sure about his dying.

It was fearfully cruel. Poor old Goggle Eye suffered so dreadfully, and the only friend he had—excepting the Missus—w............