Jack rode off to bring up the cows, glancing up at the ranges every few minutes. On his way back he saw a Koala with a young one clinging to its back in the crook of a gum by the creek. “Kayala Kayala….” Jack involuntarily began to chant. He was shaken by the sight of his woman’s totem so far from its usual home. “Kayala Kayala Boondella Dirill Diril- la”, his mind sang and he spurred his horse to rid himself of the old thoughts. As he neared camp, he began to sing a white man’s song to chase away black singing. “Send her victorious, habby and glorious, long ray-a-ane overus, God save em Gween.” “Shut up Jack, ya black bast­ard.” One of the other stockmen shouted from the yard. Jack laughed but Birrawong was standing beside the bark hut with the picaninny. She didn’t speak, but through her dark eyes he could see her mind chanting “Murra man coming, Murra man coming.” His laugh faded and he walk­ed across and struck her face. “Bugger that Murrang man. He’s not go­ing to walk up here and take ya back. Let ’em chant by them bloody fires. I’m not scared ’a black songs. Them all shit, see.”