The Bunyip Makes A Bargain

Every morning Mirri and Gough woke up before the sun made its appearance in the sky, rubbed their sleepy eyes and then went to the nearby well to draw enough water to last through the day. They washed their hands and faces while their mum made them a hearty breakfast. After they ate, Mirri would sweep the kitchen floor while her brother brought in wood for the oven.

When they had done their chores, they headed out to the barn to collect the sheep and bring them out to the far meadow, where the grass grew green and lush near the billabong. Their mum had packed them a tucker bag with meat and cheese for lunch and they drank their water from the billabong. After carefully counting the sheep, they would play on the rocks and in the trees around the water. In the afternoons they would slip into the cool water and dart around like rollicking fish, splashing each other and sometimes the sheep.

When the sun began to sink down behind the trees on the far end of te meadow, Mirri and Gough would carefully count the sheep once more, and then head for home. Their mum often scolded them if their clothing wasn't dry, and called them geese, but they knew she wasn't really angry with them. Their dad just tousled their heads and said, "Let them play, Bindi, they are still young!" Then mum and dad would smile at each other and continue preparations for supper.

One day, when the sun made the rocks hot as a griddle under their bare feet, Gough and Mirri spent most of the day in the water, hiding behind the bloodwood trees and shrieking with laughter when their legs got nipped by little fishes. They were having so much fun, that they didn't pay much attention to the sheep. When it was time to head for home, they hurriedly began to count the sheep. Mirri finished counting first, and she called out, "Gough! How many did you count? I'm one short!" Gough finished his tally, and answered that he was one short, also.

Worriedly, they began to count once more. They had never both come up short before. When they had each finished, they looked at each other with troubled eyes and shook their heads. Without a word, they set off in opposite directions, searching behind the rocks and trees grouped around the billabong, calling as they went.

They looked long and hard, but the sun was rapidly disappearing behind the gum trees, and, miserably they went back to lead the gathered sheep back home. As they slowly plodded home, Mirri cried softly. "Little Brizzy is gone," she said. "What are we to tell mum and dad?" Gough hung his head and answered that he did not know.

They were very late in reaching their home that evening, and mum was on the doorstep waiting for them. "Where have you been? Both of you are certainly old enough to find your way home before dinnertime! Now wash up quickly!" They washed for dinner and then went into the cottage to face their dad. One look at their faces told him that something was amiss. "Do you have something to tell me?" he asked sternly, looking from one to the other. Quietly, haltingly, they told him about the missing sheep.

Their dad was angry at first, then he became concerned. "Have you seen the tracks of any wild animals nearby?" he asked. "Little Brizzy is not one to wander off by herself." Gough answered no, he had not seen any unusual tracks in the area. Their parents were upset, but the two children had been bringing the jumbucks out to that far meadow for years, and they had never lost one before. They were sent to bed immediately after supper as punishment, but their mum and dad knew that they were responsible children and that was the extent of their punishment.

The next morning, Mirri and Gough soberly led the sheep out to the meadow as they always had, but for the first time they were wary as they made their way to the billabong. Throughout the day, they made counts of the jumbucks as they grazed and drank from the pond. As the sun began its slow descent that afternoon, they heard a shrill cry from behind the flowered hill to the west. They jumped out of the water and ran around the hillside. Frightened, they searched the area thoroughly, but all they found were a bright splotch of blood, and red-speckled grass leading down a path to the pond.

Neither Mirri nor Gough dared follow the bloodstains, so they ran back to the flock and quickly counted them once more. Sure enough, there was one less jumbuck than there had been at the last count. They decided to drive the herd back home, even though it was several hours too early. Gough ran back towards the billabong to get his shirt when the loudest, most terrifying roar he had ever heard nearly stopped his heart! He skidded to a stop and fell; then he picked himself up and ran pell-mell, as fast as his legs could carry him back to Mirri and shouted, "Go! Go!"

The terrified sheep ran alongside the children with no prompting. They all reached the barnyard in a heaving, gasping mass and dad ran over from the nearby field amidst complete confusion. They children gasped out their story, repeating it several times before their dad could understand what, exactly, had happened. He told Mirri and Gough not to be frightened, and sent them into the cottage to rest after their fright and the long, hot run from the meadow.

Dad and mum sat up late in the night talking, trying to decide what must be done. Dad had a growing suspicion that the cause of this new trouble could be a Bunyip. He hadn't heard of anyone having problems with these creatures since he was a child, but that didn't mean that one couldn't have moved into their billabong recently and found the jumbucks a hard-to-resist meal. He decided that the next morning he would go out with the children and have a look around.

When the children arose the next morning, their father explained what he was going to do. He told them that they would be safe as long as he was with them, and he needed them to keep a close eye on the sheep while he tracked down the possible culprit. They were still frightened, but they knew that their dad would never let any harm come to them, so they agreed to go.

Uneasily, the trio made their way to the billabong, with the sheep following obediently along. Mirri and Gough were to stay in the meadow with the sheep, keeping them away from the billabong. Dad walked over to the pond and began to look around, poking behind boulders and bushes with his wooden staff and barking out orders for the Bunyip to show himself. This went on for nearly an hour before the hideous roar again split the air...this time much more loudly and ferociously than the day before.

The children cowered, but upon hearing their father speaking back in a loud voice, unafraid, they tip-toed nearer to the water and peeked to see what was going on. As they listened, they heard their father berating the Bunyip for stealing from his herd, and demanding that he stop this behavior at once! The Bunyip, a monstrously large, dreadful creature with long, sharp teeth growing from its bill and sharp claws extending from each fingertip, was roaring back that it was hungry and had nothing else to eat!

The amazed children listened as their father quarreled and haggled with the monster, too shaken to make sense out of what was being said. Finally, the voices quieted and it seemed that their father and the Bunyip had come to an agreement. They shook hands, then dad turned his back on the Bunyip and headed back towards the children. The Bunyip slipped quietly back into the water and disappeared from sight.

The walk home was restrained as dad explained what was to be done. The Bunyip had come from far away, seeking a home away from people and bothersome animals, and had settled into their billabong. But there were few fish and fewer fruit trees in the surrounding area, and he had finally given in to the temptation to steal the two jumbucks.

The deal that was made was this: Every evening the children would come back from the meadow one hour earlier than usual. Then they would each fill a tucker bag with fruits from the trees in the nearby woods and vegetables from their garden and set them on the front porch. The next morning they would bring the extra bags with them and leave them on the far edge of the billabong for the Bunyip. He, in turn, would leave them and their sheep alone.

This arrangement worked out quite well for everyone, and at times the children were thrilled to catch a glimpse of the Bunyip as he emptied the bags of fruit and vegetables into his net and then eased back under the waters without a ripple. They still splashed in the water and played amongst the bloodwoods trees and rocks, but from that day on, they never ventured over to the far end of the pond.

The children and the Bunyip each kept their part of the bargain, and no jumbucks were ever lost again.