"I’d make you a better one meself," ’Possum answered.  "It’s really only the old men who know much about either makin’ or throwin’ boomerangs: none of these young ones’ll bother themselves. You could throw that affair he was makin’ into the air, same as you could any old stick, but it wouldn’t return to you.  Most people don’t know the difference"—she grinned at Tom shamefacedly—"an’ they get a sale for all sorts of rubbishy stuff among the summer visitors.  But it’s no more real black’s stuff than I am.  That gets harder to buy every year, because the old men who used to make the things are dying out."