Page:Songs, Legends, and Ballads.djvu/237

Rh Of the Dukite's ways,—he jumped to the road, And smashed its flat head with the bullock-goad! He was proud of the red skin, so he tied Its tail to the cart, and the snake's blood dyed The bush on the path he followed that night.

He was early home, and the dead Dukite Was flung at the door to be skinned next day. At sunrise next morning he started away To hunt up his cattle. A three hours' ride Brought him back: he gazed on his home with pride And joy in his heart; he jumped from his horse And entered—to look on his young wife's corse, And his dead child clutching its mother's clothes As in fright; and there, as he gazed, arose From her breast, where 'twas resting, the gleaming head Of the terrible Dukite, as if it said, "I've had vengeance, my foe: you took all I had."

And so had the snake—David Sloane was mad!