But the day before I had been to the camp to hear how she was.

The old women were sitting round her; one of the younger ones told me her end had nearly come.
The Boolees, or whirlwinds, with the Mullee Mullees of her enemies in, had been playing round and through the camp for days, they said, watching to seize her fleeting spirit--a sure sign the end was near.
That night surely would come Yowee, the skeleton spirit, with the big head and fiery eyes, whose coming meant death.
Last night more than one of the blacks had dreamt of an emu, which meant misfortune to one of that totem, which was Beemunny's.
As Yellen spoke in a hushed sad voice, suddenly, though no breath of wind was stirring, sprang up on the edge of the camp a boolee, rearing its head as if it were a living thing.

Round it whirled, snatching the dead leaves of the Coolabahs, swirling them with the dust it gathered into a spiral column, which sped, as if indeed a spirit animated it, straight to the camp of the dying woman.

Round and round it eddied, a dust-devil dancing a dance of death.
The watchers drew nearer to Beemunny, who was past heeding even the spirits of evil.
The women in other camps clutched their children to them, but spoke no word.

All was silent but the swirling leaves as the column gathered them.