At this time there lived in the tribe a man called Wurip.

He was not a lucky man. Once, in a big tribal fight, most of his relations had been killed; and when he was still quite a young man, his wife died of a mysterious sickness, before they had been married very long. Then, one night, he tripped and fell into a big fire, burning himself terribly. He got better, but his left arm and hand were quite twisted and withered, and were of very little use to him.

Had he been a different kind of man, it is not unlikely that he would have been killed by the tribe, for the blacks had no use for maimed or deformed persons. But Wurip was strong, apart from his twisted arm; and also he had a way of muttering to himself that rather frightened people. It was only a habit, but the blacks were always afraid of what they could not understand. So they left him alone.

He lived in a little wurley by himself, and though he was lonely, and would have liked to take another wife, he knew that no girl would want a man whose arm and hand were not like those of other men. So he did not try to get married, and gradually he became very solitary. He thought the other men disliked him, and he would go away by himself on hunting expeditions, and wander through the scrub alone. Although he was half a cripple, he soon learned to know the Bush more thoroughly than any man in the tribe, and he trained his shrivelled arm to do a great deal, although at first it had seemed that it must be useless for ever. The other blacks at first gave him nick-names about his arm, but he did not like them, and his eyes were so fierce that they did not let him hear them any more, and to his face only called him by his own name, Wurip, which means "a little bird."

Now, Wurip loved his tribe. He had no special friends in it, which was partly his own fault, for he had grown very unsociable, but he was proud of the tribe itself, because it was brave and owned good country, and had been successful in many fights. It made him sore at heart to see it suffering from the want of Fire, and also it hurt his pride that it should have been beaten by women. So he made up his mind that he would try to recover Fire from the wicked Fire-Women. He thought about it for a long time, and laid his plans very carefully.

One day he left the camp, carrying no weapons, but only a single waddy. The other blacks said to him:

"Where are you going?"

Wurip said, "I go to try to get Fire back."

"You!" they said. "A little man, and crippled! That is very funny." And all the people laughed at him.

Wurip hesitated, and a gleam came into his eyes, so quick and fierce that those who had laughed shrank back. Then he turned on his heel and walked off into the scrub, and the blacks said, "Let him go. He is mad, and he will most likely be killed; and it really does not matter. He is not much use."

Into the wild Bush Wurip went, taking short noiseless strides. He was a little man, but he had the quick movements of many little men, and at all times he could move rapidly through the Bush, scarcely making a sound as he went.

He passed through the scrub, and came to boggy lands and morasses; his light feet carried him over swamps and across creeks fringed with reeds and sedges. Then he saw a light curl of smoke going lazily skywards, and at the sight his heart gave a leap, for it was long since he had seen Fire.

Until then he had travelled very quickly. But now he slackened his speed and went slowly across the plain towards the Fire-Women\'s camp. As he drew near he could see them, sitting in front of the wurley and weaving their rushes. They did not look up as he came, and he advanced so near them that he began to think that the magic wall could be there no longer. Just as he was wondering if this were indeed true, one of the Fire-Women glanced up and saw him; and almost immediately Wurip felt some invisible object blocking his way, and knew he could go no farther.

He stopped, and burst out laughing, and at the sound of his merriment the other Fire-Woman glanced up sharply from her weaving, and the first one paused, with a stick of she-oak wood in her hand, and looked at him in blank astonishment. So silent was the place that Wurip\'s shout of laughter echoed like a thunderclap. The Fire-Women looked at the little black figure standing among the harsh tussocks of swamp-grass, and he waved to them with his withered arm. But they took no further notice, going on scornfully with their work.

Wurip had expected nothing else, and he was not discouraged. He began collecting sticks and brushwood for a wurley, singing as he went about his work, in full view of the two women. He made no further attempt to get through the invisible wall. There was not much timber about, and to find suitable material for his wurley was a difficult task. He walked slowly, using his crippled arm very little, because he hoped that the women would be less careful about him if they regarded him as a one-armed man. Sometimes he felt that they were looking at him, and then he would work with particular awkwardness. Always, however, he sang, and went about with a merry countenance, as if he had not a single care in the world.

He built his wurley and went off into the swamp to hunt, returning with some lizards and grubs, and a duck that he had caught just as it settled on a sedgy pool. Standing a little way back from the wall, he called out and threw the duck towards the fire where the women sat. But it fell before it reached them, meeting the unseen obstacle.

"What a pity—it is for you!" called Wurip, slowly, so that they could hear easily. "It is a fat duck." And saying this he laughed again, and went into his wurley, where he ate his supper contentedly—although it was not cooked—and went to sleep.

In the morning, the women were sitting as before. But the duck had gone, and, looking closely across the little space, Wurip saw that there were feathers lying about near their fire. Also there was a pleasant smell of cooking in the air. This gladdened his heart, for it showed that the women did not mind making him useful, and that was exactly what he wanted.

So the days went by, and Wurip lived in his wurley, and the women in theirs. He never saw them away from it. N............