A SONG WITHOUT WORDS 275 



Never had any seen such a classic interpretation of the 

 theme, such brilliant leg movement, nor heard such realistic 

 growling and snapping and intermittent yelps, such muffled, 

 sob-like inspirations. Yellowby danced as dances the 

 artist, so graphically interpreting the subject that the 

 bewildered orchestra forgot itself All were borne away in 

 spirit to the scene of some far-off, familiar camp, where the 

 scents of decayed fish and turtle-bones, and of a multitude 

 of uncleanly dogs commingled with the bitter smoke of 

 mangrove wood fires, where amid the yells of gins and the 

 screeches of piccaninnies and the walloping of men, two 

 mangy curs noisily wrestled. It brought home sweet home 

 to each of the exiles, so vividly that all sat still and trans- 

 fixed, and as the last chord of the orchestra "trembled 

 away into silence,' Yellowby, panting and sweating, gasped 

 as he fell flat on the sand — " No good you fella corrobboree 

 like that fella, belonga me fella." But for the collapse of 

 the orchestra, due to his own inimitable art, he would have 

 danced till dawn. 



A Song Without Words 



Mickie is a famous vocalist, although his repertoire is 

 limited. He sings lustily and with no little art, putting 

 considerable expression into his phrases, and ever and anon 

 taking a sharp but studied rest to increase his emphasis, 

 when he will burst forth again with full-throated ease. His 

 masterpiece is not original. Indeed he claims no title to 

 the gifts of a composer. " Jacky," a Mackay boy, taught 

 Mickie his favourite romance, and it came to Jacky in a 

 dream. Mickie explains — "Cousin alonga that fella die. 

 Jacky go to sleep. That fella dead man all a same like 

 debil-debil — come close up and tell 'em corrobboree close 

 up ear belonga Jacky." 



"What that debil-debil say ? " 



Mickie — "No talk — that fella. Just tell 'em corrob- 

 boree. No talk." 



It was just a song without words — the final phrases 



