“Two fella boy swim-swim-swim.  Go outside altogether; leave ’em Barrier behind.  Swim; finish; good bye; no come back!  Swim where cloud catch ’em sea.  Swim up-up-long way up!  You see now.  Sit down up there altogether.  Dooey-dooey first time; two fella boy come behind!”

Does not this stand comparison with that referred to by the scientific American in answering the question, “Why do you refer to the Great Bear as feminine?” We must go back into the age of classical mythology for the reason.  It was known to the Egyptians, who called it hippopotamus.  The people of southern Europe saw in the same stars the more familiar figure of a bear, and the legends which grew up around it were finally given permanent shape by Ovid in his METAMORPHOSES.  As he tells the story, Callisto, an Arcadian nymph, was beloved by Jupiter.  Juno, in fierce anger, turned her into a bear, depriving her of speech that she might not appeal to Jupiter.  Her son, Arcas, while hunting, came upon her, and failing to recognise her in her metamorphosed form, raised his bow to shoot.  Jupiter, moved by pity, prevented the matricide by transforming the son into a bear, and took them both up to the heavens, where they were placed among the constellations.

CROCODILE CATCHING

Though they have a wholesome dread of crocodiles generally, the blacks of the Lower Tully River (some 5 miles down the coast) have, in a limited circle, the reputation of indulging in the sport of catching them for food.  Natives of the locality tell me that the last occasion of the death of a crocodile in the manner to be described was very many years ago.  Some would have you believe the practice is of common occurrence.  The story goes (though for its truth I do not vouch), that having located a crocodile in a reach of the river when the tide has run out, the blacks form a cordon across, and harry it by splashing the water and maintaining a continuous commotion.  The crocodile is poked out of secluded nooks beside the bank and from under submerged logs, never being allowed a moment’s peace.  When it is thoroughly cowed (and it is an undoubted fact that crocodiles may be frightened into passiveness), a rope of lawyer vine is passed round a convenient tree and held by half a dozen boys, while a running noose is made on the other end.  A daring black dives into the water, and cautiously approaching the bewildered creature, slips the noose over its head and backs away.  Should he turn his face, the blacks say the crocodile would immediately seize him.  The party on the bank hauls on the line, and in spite of protests and struggling the game is landed, to be chopped and beaten to death with tomahawks and nulla-nullas.  Then follows a feast, the inevitable surfeit, and the dire conclusion that crocodile as “tucker” is no good.  The flesh is said to be “All a same turtle.  Little more hard fella!” My investigations lead to the opinion that a crocodile was once caught in the manner described, and that upon a single instance the proud feat has been multiplied by the score.