Soon Ouyan came back, bringing, as usual, the flesh with him. When he
had thrown it down at his mother's feet, he went away, and lay down as
if tired from the chase. His mother went up to him, and before he had
time to cover his mutilated limbs, she saw that indeed the story of the
women was true. Angry was she that he had so deceived her: and she
called loudly for the other two women, who came running to her.

"You are right," she said. "Too lazy to hunt for emu, he cut off his
own flesh, not caring that when we unwittingly ate thereof we should
sicken. Let us beat him who did us this wrong."

The three women seized poor Ouyan and beat him, though he cried aloud
in agony when the blows fell on his bleeding legs.

When the women had satisfied their vengeance, Beeargah said: "You Ouyan
shall have no more flesh on your legs, and red shall they be for ever;
red, and long and fleshless." Saying which she went, and with her the
other women. Ouyan crawled away and hid himself, and never again did
his mother see him. But night after night was to be heard a wailing cry
of, "Bou you gwai gwai. Bou you gwai gwai," which meant, "My poor red
legs. My poor red legs."

But though Ouyan the man was never seen again, a bird with long thin
legs, very red in colour under the feathers, was seen often, and heard
to cry ever at night, even as Ouyan the man had cried: "Bou you gwai
gwai. Bou you gwai gwai." And this bird bears always the name of Ouyan.