 8. It was fortunate that the kangaroo could not think of all that might be fallen, or she never could have had the courage for the wonderful feats of jumping she performed. Poor little Dot, whose busy brain pictured all kinds of terrible feats, was so overcome with fear that she seemed hardly to know what had happened, and the more she thought, the more terrified she became. The kangaroo did not attempt to continue the upward ascent, but followed a slope of the rugged hill, leaping from rock to rock. This was better than trying to escape where the trees and shrubs would have prevented her making those astonishing bounds. But the clouds had left the moon clear for a while, so that the black fellows and the dogs easily followed every movement, as they pursued the hunt on a smoother level below. The blacks were trying to hurry on, so as to cut off the kangaroo's retreat at a spur of the hill, where, to get away, she would have to leave the rocks and descend towards them. In the meantime, Dot's ears were filled with the sounds of snarling snaps from the dingo dogs, and hideous noises from the blacks, encouraging the animals to attack the kangaroo. But what pained her most were the gasps and little moans of her good friend, as she put such tremendous power into every leap she made for their lives, crashing through twigs and scattering stones and pebbles in the wild speed of their flight. Then Dot's busy little brain told her another thing, which made her more miserable. It was becoming quite clear that the poor kangaroo was getting rapidly exhausted, owing to her having to bear Dot's weight. Her panting became more and more distressing, and so did her sad moans and flecks of foam from her straining lips fell on Dot's face and hands. Dot knew that her kangaroo was trying to save her at the risk of her own life. Without the little girl in her pouch, she might get away safely. But with her to carry, they would both probably fall victims to the fierce blacks and their dogs. Kangaroo, kangaroo, she cried, put me down, drop Dot anywhere, anywhere, but don't get killed yourself. But all Dot heard was a little hissing sound from the brave animal which sounded like, never again, you will be killed, moaned Dot, together, said the little hissing voice, as another great bound brought them to the spur of the hill. And then the kangaroo had to pause. In that moment, Dot seemed to hear and see everything. They were perched on a rock, and the moonlight lit all their surroundings like day. To the right was a deep black chasm, with a white foaming waterfall pouring into the darkness below. In front was the same wide chasm, only less wide, and beyond it, on the other side of the great yawning cleft in the earth, was a wild spread of Marass country, a gloomy, terrible-looking place. To the left was a steep slope of small rocks and stones, leading downwards to the hollow of Seji land that fringed the cliffs of the chasm. The only retreat possible was to pass down this declivity, and try to escape by the Seji land, and this is what the black huntsman had expected. It was a very weird and desolate place, and everything looked dark and dismal under the moonlight as it streamed between stormy black clouds. In that light, Dot could see the black's hurrying forward. Already one of the dogs had far outrun the others, and with a woophish gait and savage sounds was pressing towards their place of observation. The panting, trembling kangaroo saw the approaching dog also, and leapt down from the crag. As she dropped to earth, she stooped and quickly lifted Dot out of her pouch, and almost before Dot could realize the movement, she found herself standing alone, whilst the kangaroo hopped forward to the front of a big boulder, as if to meet the dog. Here the poor hunted creature took her stand, with her back close to the rock, gentle and timid as she was, and unfitted by nature to fight for her life against fierce odds. It was brave indeed of the poor kangaroo to face her enemies, prepared to do battle for the lives of little Dot and herself. So noble did Dot's kangaroo look in that desperate moment, standing erect, waiting for her foe, and conquering her naturally frightened nature by a grand effort of courage, that it seemed impossible that either dogs or men should be so cruel as to take her life. For a moment the dingo hound seemed daunted by her bravery, and paused a little way off panting, with its great tongue lolling out of its mouth. Dot could see its sharp, wicked teeth gleaming in the moonlight. For a few seconds it hesitated to make the attack, and look back down the slope to see if the other dogs were coming to help. They were only just beginning the ascent, and the shouting blackfellows were further off still. Then the dog could no longer control its savage nature. It longed to leap at the poor kangaroo's throat, that pretty furry throat that Dot's arms had so often encircled lovingly, and it was impatient to fix its terrible teeth there, and hold, and hold, in a wild struggle until the poor kangaroo should gradually weaken from fear and exhaustion, and be choked to death. These thoughts filled the dog with a wicked joy. It wouldn't wait any longer for the other dingo hounds. It wanted to murder the kangaroo all by itself. So, with the toss of its head, and a terrible snarl that sprang forward ferociously with open jaws, aiming at the victim's throat, Dot clasped her cold hands together. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her little voice, choking with sobs, could only wail, Oh dear kangaroo, my dear kangaroo, don't kill my dear kangaroo. And she ran forward to throw herself upon the dog and try to save her friend. But before the terrified little girl could reach the big rock, the dog had made it spring upon her friend. The brave kangaroo, instead of trying to avoid her fierce enemy, opened her little arms and stood erect and tall to receive the attack. The dog, in its eagerness, and owing to the nature of the ground, misjudged the distance it had to spring. It failed to reach the throat it had aimed at, and in a moment the kangaroo had seized the hound in a tight embrace. There was a momentary struggle, the dog snapping and trying to free itself, and the kangaroo holding it firmly. Then she used the only weapon she had to defend herself from dogs and men, the long, sharp claw in her foot. While she held the dog in her arms, she raised her powerful leg, and with that long, strong claw tore open the dog's body. The dog yelped in pain as the kangaroo threw it to the ground, where it lay rolling in agony and dying, for the kangaroo had given it a terrible wound. The other dogs were still some distance below, and the cries of their companion caused them to pause in fear and wonder, while the black men could be seen advancing in the dim light, flourishing their spears and boomerangs. It was quite impossible to retreat that way, and where Dot and her kangaroo were, they were hemmed in by a rocky cliff, and the deep black chasm. The kangaroo saw at a glance where lay their only chance of life. She picked up Dot, placed her in her pouch, and without a word, leapt forwards towards that fearful gulf of darkness and foaming waters. As they neared the spot, Dot saw that the hunted animal was going to try and leaped cross to the other side. It seemed impossible that with one bound she could span that terrible place and reach the sedged morass beyond, and still more impossible that it should be done by the poor animal with heavy Dot in her pouch. Again, Dot cried, Oh darling kangaroo, save yourself, you can never, never do it, carrying me. All she heard was something like, Try, or, will die. She could not make out what the kangaroo said, for the crashing of the waterfall, the whistling of the wind, and the scattering of stones as they dash forward made such a storm of noises in her ears. She could see when they reached the grassy fringe of the precipice, where the kangaroo was able to quicken her pace, and literally seemed to fly to their fate. Then came the last bound before the great spring. Dot held her breath, and a feeling of sickness came over her. Her head seemed giddy, and she could not see, but she clasped her hands together and said, God help my kangaroo. And then she felt the fearful leap and rush through the air. Yes, they had just reached the other side. No, they had not quite. What was the matter? What a struggle, stones falling, twigs and grasses wrenching, the courageous kangaroo fighting for a foothold on the very brink of the precipice. What a terrible moment. Every second Dot felt sure they would fall backwards and drop deep into the galley below, to be dashed to pieces on the rocks and the treetops. But God did help Dot's kangaroo. The little reeds and rushes held tightly in the earth, and the poor struggling animal exerting all her remaining strength gained the reedy slope safely. She staggered forward a few reeling hops and then fell to the earth like a dead creature. In an instant, Dot was out of the pouch and had her arm round the poor animal's neck, crying as she saw blood and foam oozing from her mouth, and a strange dim look in her sad eyes. Don't die dear kangaroo, oh please don't die. cried Dot, ringing her hands and burying her face in the fur of the poor gasping creature. Dot! panted the kangaroo. Make a noise, cry loud, not so yet. The little girl didn't understand why the kangaroo wanted her to make a noise, and she had, in her fear and sorrow, quite forgotten their pursuers. But now she turned and could hear the blacks urging on their dogs as they were making an attempt to skirt round the precipice and gain the other side of the chasm. So Dot did as she was told, and screamed and cried like the most naughty of children, and the gasping kangaroo told her to go on doing so. Then what seemed to Dot a very terrifying thing happened. For she soon heard other cries mingled with hers. From the desolate morass and from the gully in darkness below came the sound of a bellowing. She stopped crying and listened, and could hear those awesome voices all around, and the echoes made them still more hobgoblin-ish. The kangaroo's eyes brightened, and she restrained her panting and listened also. Go on, she said. We're safe now. So Dot made more crying, and her noises and the others would have frightened anyone who had heard them in that lonely place, with the wind storming in the trees and the black clouds flying over the moon. It frightened the black fellows directly. They stopped in their headlong speed, shouting together in their shrill voices, the banyap, the banyap! And they tumbled over one another in their hurry to get away from a place haunted, as they thought by that wicked demon which they fear so much. At full speed they fled back to their camp with the sound of Dot's cries and the mysterious bellowing noise following them on the breeze, and they never stopped running until they regained the light of their campfires. There they told the gins, in awestruck voices, how it had been no kangaroo they had hunted but the banyap, who had pretended to be one. And the black gins' eyes grew wider and wider, and they made strange noises and exclamations as they listened to the story of how the banyap had led the huntsman to that dreadful place. How it had torn one of the dogs to pieces and had leaped over the precipice into dead man's gully, where it had cried like a picaninny, and bellowed like a bull. No one slept in the camp that night, and early next morning the whole tribe went away, being afraid to remain so near the haunt of the dreaded banyap. Dot saw the flight of the blacks in the dim distance and told the good news to the kangaroo, who, however, was too exhausted to rejoice at their escape. She still lay where she had fallen, gasping and with her tongue hanging down from her mouth like that of a dog. In vain Dot caressed her and called her by endearing names. She lay quite still as if unable to hear or feel. Dot's little hearts welled within her, and taking the poor animal's drooping head on her lap, she sat quite still and tearless, waiting in that solitude for her one friend to die, leaving her lonely and helpless. Presently she was startled by hearing a brisk voice. Then it was a human picaninny after all. Well my dear, what are you doing here? Dot turned her head without moving and saw a little way behind her a brown bird on long legs, standing with its feet close together, with the self-satisfied air of a dancing master about to begin a lesson. Dot did not care for any other creature in the bush just then but her kangaroo, and the perky air of the bird annoyed her in her sorrow. Without answering she bent her head closer, down to that of her poor friend to see if her eyes were still shut, and wondered if they would ever open and look bright and gentle again. The little brown bird strutted with an important air to where it had a better view of Dot and her companion, and eyed them both in the same perky manner. Friend Kangaroo's in a bad way, it said. Why don't you do something sensible instead of messing about with its head? What can I do? Wimpered Dot. Give it water and damp its skin, of course, said the little bird contemptuously. What fools humans are, exclaimed to itself. And I suppose you will tell me there is no water here when, all the time, you are sitting on a spring. But I'm sitting on grass, said Dot, now fully attentive to the bird's remarks. Well, booby, sneered the bird, and under the grass is wet moss which, if you make a hole in it, will fill with water. Why, I'd do it myself in a moment. Only your claws are better suited for the purpose than mine, said about it at once. It said sharply. In an instant Dot did what the bird directed, and thrust her little hands into the soft grass, roots and moss, out of which water pressed as if from a sponge. She had soon made a little hole, and the most beautiful clear water welled up into it at once. Then in the hollows of her little hands she collected it, and dashed it over the Kangaroo's parched tongue, and further instructed by the kindly, though rude little bird, she had soon well wetted the suffering animals fur. Gradually the breathing of the Kangaroo became less of an effort. Her tongue moistened, and returned to the mouth, and at last Dot saw with joy the brown eyes open, and she knew that her good friend was not going to die, but would get well again. Whilst all this took place, the little brown bird stood on one leg, with its head cocked on one side, watching the exhausted Kangaroo's recovery with a comic expression of curiosity and conceit. When it spoke to Dot, it did so without any attempt at being polite, and Dot thought it the strangest possible creature, because it was really very kind in helping her to save the Kangaroo's life, and yet it seemed to delight in spoiling its kind-heartedness by its rudeness. Afterwards the Kangaroo told her that the little bittern is a really tender-hearted fellow, but he has an idea that kindness in rather small creatures provokes the contempt of the big ones. As he always wants to be thought a bigger bird than he is, he pretends to be hard-hearted by being rough. Consequently, nearly all the bush-creatures simply regard him as a rude little bird, because bad man is a no-proof of being grown up, rather the contrary. How do you feel now? asked the bittern, as the Kangaroo presently struggled up and squatted rather feebly on her haunches, looking about in a somewhat dazed way. I'm better now, said the Kangaroo, but dear me, how everything seems to dance up and down. She shut her eyes, for she felt giddy. That was rather a good jump of yours, said the bittern patronizingly, as if jumps for life like that of Dot's Kangaroo were made every day, and he was a judge of them. Ah, I remember, said the Kangaroo, opening her eyes again and looking round. Where is Dot? Hump, that silly! exclaimed the bittern as Dot came forward, and she and the Kangaroo rejoiced over each other's safety. Much good she'd have been to you with the blacks and their dogs after you, if we bitterns hadn't played the old trick of our scaring them with our big voices. Hey, hey, hey! it chuckled. How they did run when we tuned up. They thought the Bunyip had got them this time. Didn't we laugh? It was very good of you, said the Kangaroo, gratefully, and it is not the first time you have saved Kangaroos by your cleverness. I didn't know you bitterns were near, so I told Dot to make a noise in the hope of frightening them. The bittern was really touched by the Kangaroo's gratitude, and was delighted at being called clever, so it became still more ungracious. You needn't trouble me with thanks. That said, indifferently? We didn't do it to save you, but for our own fun. As for that little stupid. It continued with a nod of the head towards Dot. Her squeals were no more good than the squeak of a tree frog in a bittern's beak. But you were very kind, said Dot, and showed me how to get water to save Kangaroo's life. The bittern was greatly pleased at this praise, and inconsequent it got still rudder, and making a face at Dot exclaimed, and stalked off. But when it had gone a few steps, it turned round and said to the Kangaroo roughly, If you hop that way, keeping to the side of that sedges, and go half a dozen small hops beyond the twight gum tree, you'll find a little cave. It's dry and warm, and good enough for Kangaroo's. And without waiting for thanks for this last kind act, it spread its wings and flew away. End of chapter eight. Recording by Graham, Theodore, Winona, and Ebony Jollith, Australia. Chapter nine of Dot and the Kangaroo. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Carl Cubbage. Dot and the Kangaroo. By Ethel C. Petley. Chapter nine. The Kangaroo, hopping very weakly, and little Dot, trudging over the oozy ground, followed the bittern's directions, and found the cave, which proved a very snug retreat. Here they lay down together, full of happiness at their escape, and being worn out with fatigue and excitement, they were soon fast asleep. The next day, before the sun rose, the bittern visited the cave. Hello, you precious lazy pair. I've been over there, and it tossed its beak in the direction of the black's camp. They're off northward, too frightened to stay. I thought you might like the news brought to you, since you're too lazy to get it for yourselves. And off it went again without saying goodbye. Now, isn't he a kind little fellow, said the Kangaroo? That's his way of telling us that we are safe. Thanks, bittern. Thanks, they both cried, but the creamy brown bird paid no attention to their gratitude. It seemed absorbed in looking for frogs on its way. All that day, the Kangaroo and Dot stayed near the cave, so that the poor animal might get quite well again. The Kangaroo said she did not know that part of the country, and so she had better get her legs again before they faced fresh dangers. Neither of them was so bright and merry as before. The weather was showery, and Dot kept thinking that perhaps she would never get home. Now she had been so long away, and she kept remembering the time when the little boy was lost in everyone's sadness. The Kangaroo too seemed melancholy. What makes you sad, asked Dot. I am thinking of the last time before this that I was hunted. It was then I lost my baby Kangaroo, she replied. Oh, you poor dear thing, exclaimed Dot. And have you been hunted before last night? Yes, said the Kangaroo with a little weary sigh. It was just a few days before I found you. White humans did it that time. Tell me about it, said Dot. How did you escape? I escaped then, said the Kangaroo, settling herself on her haunches to tell the tale. In a way I could have done last night, but I will die sooner than do it again. Tell me, repeated Dot. There is not much to tell, said the Kangaroo. My little Joey was getting quite big, and we were very happy. It was a lovely Joey. It was so strong and could jump so well for its size. It had the blackest of little noses and hands and tail you ever saw, and big soft ears which heard more quickly than mine. All day long I taught it jumping, and we played, and were merry from sunrise to sunset. Until that day I had never been sad, and I thought all the creatures must be wrong to say that in this beautiful world there could be such cruel beings as they said white humans were. That day taught me I was wrong, and I know now that the world is a sad place because humans make it so, although it was made to be a happy place. We were playing on the side of a plane that day, and our game was hide and seek in the long grass. We were having great fun, when suddenly the little Joey said, strange creatures are coming, big ones. I hopped up the stony rise that fringed the plane, and thought as I did so I could hear a new sound on the breeze. Joey hid in the grass, but I went boldly into the open on the hillside to see what the danger was. I saw far off humans on their big animals that go so quickly, and directly I hopped into the open. They raised a great noise like the blacks did last night, and I could see by the movement in the grass that they had those dreadful dogs they teach to kill us. They are far worse than dingos. Joey heard the shouting, and bounded into my pouch, and I went off as fast as I could. It was a worse hunt than last night, or it was longer, and there was no darkness to help me. I gradually got ahead in the chase, and I knew if I were alone I could distance them all, for we had seen them a long way off. But little Joey was heavy, though not so heavy as you are, and in the long distance I began to feel weak as I did last night. I knew if I tried to go on, as we were, that those cruel humans sitting quietly on those big beasts, which have four legs and never get tired, would overtake us. And their dogs, which carry no weight and go so fast, would tear me down before their masters even arrived, where I was going gradually slower. So I asked Joey if I dropped him into the soft bush, whether he would hide until I came back for him. It was our only chance. I had an idea that if I did that, he would be safe, even if I got killed, as they would be more likely to follow me, and never think I had parted from my little Joey. So we did this, and I crossed a creek, which put the hounds off the scent, and I got away. In the dusk I came back to find Joey, but he had gone, and I could not find a trace of him, all night and all day I searched, but I never seen my Joey since, said the kangaroo sadly, and Dot saw the tears dim her eyes. Dot could not speak all she felt. She was so sorry for the kangaroo, and so ashamed of being a human. She realized too how good and forgiving this dear animal was, how she had cared for her, and nearly died to save her life in spite of the wrongs done to her by human beings. When I grow up, she said, I will never let anyone hurt a bush creature, they shall all be happy where I am. But there are so many humans, they're getting to be as many as kangaroos, said the animal reflectively, and shook her head. CHAPTER X OF DOT AND THE KANGAROO This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Red by Betsy Bush. In Marquette, Michigan. May 2007. DOT AND THE KANGAROO By Ethel C. Pedley. CHAPTER X The fourth day of Dot's wanderings in the bush dawned brightly. The sun arose in a sky all gorgeous in gold and crimson, and flashed upon a world glittering with dewy freshness. Sweet odors from the aromatic bush filled the air, and every living creature made what noise it could, to show its joy in being happy and free in the beautiful bush. Rich and gurgling came the note of the magpies, the jovial cuckaburras saluted the sun with rollicking laughter, the crickets chirped, frogs croaked in chorus, or solemnly popped in deep vibrating tones, like the ring of a woodman's axe. Every now and then came the shriek of the plover, or the shrill cry of the pee-eat, and gayer and more lively than all the others was the merry clattering of the big bush wagtail in the distance. As soon as the kangaroo heard the bush wagtail, she and Dot hurried away to find him. No Christy minstrel rattling his bones ever made a merrier sound. He rattled away as fast as he could, just as if he hadn't a moment to waste for taking breath, and as if the whole lovely world was made for the enjoyment of bush wagtails. When Dot and the kangaroo found him, he was swaying about on a branch, spreading his big tail like a fan, and clattering gaily, but he stopped in surprise as soon as he saw his visitors. After greetings he opened the conversation by talking of the weather, so as to conceal his astonishment at seeing Dot and the kangaroo together. Lovely weather after the rain, he said. The showers were needed very much, for insects were getting scarce, and I believe grass was getting rank, and not very plentiful. There will be a green shoot in a few days, which will be very welcome to kangaroos. I heard about you losing your Joey. My cousin told me. I was very sorry, so sad. Ah! Well, such things will happen in the bush to any one. We were most fortunate in our brood. None of the chicks fell out of the nest. Every one of them escaped the butcher-birds, and were strong of wing. They are all doing well in the world. When the vivacious bird came a little nearer to the kangaroo, and dropping his voice said, But friend kangaroo, I'm sorry to see you've taken up with humans. You know I have quite set my face against them, although my cousin is intimate with the whole race. Take my word for it. They're most uncertain friends. Two kookaburras were shot last week, in spite of government protection. Fact. And as the bird spoke, he nodded his head warningly toward the place where Dot was standing. This little human has been lost in our bush, said the kangaroo. One had to take care of her, you know. Of course, of course. There are exceptions to all rules, chattered the wag-tail. And so this is really the lost little human there has been such a fuss about. Added he, eyeing Dot, and making a long whistle of surprise. My cousin told me all about it. Then your cousin, Willy Wag-tail, knows her lost way, said the kangaroo joyfully, and Dot came a little nearer in her eagerness to hear the good news. Of course he does, answered the bird. There's nothing happens that he doesn't know. You should have hunted him up. I didn't know where to find him, said the kangaroo, and I got into this country, which is new to me. Why, he is in the same part that he nested in last season. It's no distance off, exclaimed the wag-tail. If you could fly, you'd be there almost directly. Then the bird gave a long description of the way they were to follow to find his cousin, Willy, and with many warm thanks the kangaroo and Dot bait him a Jew. As they left the bush wag-tail they could hear him singing this song, which shows what a merry happy fellow he is. Clickety, clickety, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack. Who could cry in such weather a lack? With a sky so blue and a sun so bright, sing winter, winter, winter is back. Sportive in flight, chatter delight, clickety, clickety, clack. I'm so glad that I have the knack of singing clack, clack, clack. If you wish to be happy, just follow my track. Take this for a motto, this for a code, sing winter, winter, winter is back. Leave care to a toad and live all the mode. Clickety, clickety, clack. They had no difficulty in following the wing-tail's directions. They soon struck a creek they had been told to pursue to its end, and about noon they found themselves in very pretty country. It reminded Dot of the journey they had made to find the platypus, for there were the same beautiful growths of fern and shrubs. There were also great trailing creepers, which hung down like ropes from the tops of the tall trees they had climbed. These rope-like coils of the creepers made capital swings, and often Dot clambered into one of the big loops and sat swinging herself to and fro, laughing and singing, much to the delight and amusement of the kangaroo. Swing, swing, a bird on the wing is not more happy than I. Stooping to earth and seeking the sky, swing, swing, swing. See how high upward I fly? Here amidst the leaves I swing. Then as fast to my swing I cling. Down I come from the sky. Swing, swing, a bird on the wing is not more happy than I. Thus sang little Dot, tossing herself backwards and forwards, and the kangaroo came to the conclusion that there was something very sweet about little humans, and that Dot was certainly quite as nice as a joey kangaroo. In the middle of one of these little swinging diversions, a bird about the size of a pigeon, with the most wonderfully shiny plumage, flew to the tree on which Dot was swinging. Dot was so struck by the bird's beautiful blue-black glossy appearance, and its brightly contrasting yellow beak and legs that she stopped swinging at once. You are a pretty bird, she said. I am a sat and bower bird, it said. We heard you singing, and we thought, therefore, that you probably enjoy parties, so I have come to invite you to one of our assemblies, which will take place shortly. Friend Kangaroo, we know, is of a somewhat serious nature, but probably she will do us the pleasure of accompanying you to our little entertainment. I shall have great pleasure in doing so, said the kangaroo. I have not been at any of your parties for a long time. You know, I suppose, that I lost my little joey very sadly. We heard all about it, replied the bower bird in a tone of exaggerated, almost ridiculous sadness, for it was so anxious that the kangaroo should think that it felt very deeply for her loss. We were in the middle of a meeting at the time the wallaby brought the news, and we were so sad that we nearly broke up our assembly. But it would have been a pity to do so, really, as the young birds enjoy themselves so much at the bower of pleasure, but, said the sat and bird, with a sudden change of tone from extreme sorrow to one of vivacious interest. I must show you the way to the bower, or you would never find it. Dot jumped down from the swing, and she and the kangaroo guided by the sat and bird made their way through some very thickly grown bush. The bird was certainly right in saying that they would never have found the bower of pleasure without a guide. It was carefully concealed in the most densely grown scrub. As they were pushing their way through a thicket of shrubs before reaching the open space where the sat and bird's bower was built, they heard an increasing noise of birds all talking to one another. The din of this chattering was enhanced considerably by the shrill sounds of tree frogs and crickets, and the hubbub made Dot feel like the little native bear, as if her head was empty. This will be a very pleasant party, said the sat and bird. There is plenty of conversation, so everyone is in a good humor. Do you think anyone is listening, or are they all talking? inquired the kangaroo timidly. Nobody would attempt to listen, answered the sat and bird. It would be impossible against the music of the tree frogs and crickets, so everyone talks. I should tell the tree frogs and crickets to be quiet, said Dot. No one seems to care for their music. Oh, without music it would be very dull. Explained the sat and bird. No one would care to talk. You understand, it would be awkward. Someone might overhear what you said. As the bird spoke the trio reached the place where the bower was situated. Dot thought at a most curious sight. In the middle of an open space the birds had built a flooring of twigs, and upon that they had erected a bower about three feet high, also constructed of twigs interwoven with grass, and arranged so as nearly to meet at the top in an arched form. It's a new bower, and more commodious than our last, said the sat and bird with an air of satisfaction. What do you think of the decorations? In a temporary lull of the frog and cricket band and the conversation Dot and the kangaroo praised the bower and its decorations, and inquired politely how the birds had managed to procure such a collection of ornaments for their pleasure-haul. Several young bower birds came and joined in the chat, and Dot was surprised to see how different their plumage was from the sat and blue-black of the old birds. These younger members of the community were of a greenish-yellow color, with dark pencilings on their feathers, and had no glossy sheen like their elders. Each of them pointed out some ornament that it had brought with which to deck the bower. One had brought the pink feathers of a gala, which had been stuck here and there amongst the twigs. Others had collected the delicate shells of land snails, and put them round about the entrance. But the birds that were proudest of their contributions were those who had picked up odds and ends at the camps of Bushman. That beautiful bright thing I brought from a camp a mile away, said a bird, indicating a tag from a cake of tobacco. But it isn't so pretty as mine, said another, pointing to the glass stopper of a sauce-bottle. Or mine, chimed in another bird, as it claimed a bright piece of tin from a milk-can that was inserted in the twigs just above the entrance of the bower. Nonsense, children, said a grave-old satan bird. Your trifles are not to be compared with that beautiful object I found today, and arranged along the top of the bower. The effect is splendid. As he spoke, Dot observed that twine amidst the top-most twigs of the construction was a strip of red flannel from an old shirt, a bedraggled red rag that must have been found in an extinct campfire judging by its singed edges. The day Dot had lost her way she had been threading beads, and she still had upon her finger a ring of the pretty-colored pieces of glass. She saw the old satan bird look at this ring longingly, so she pulled it off and begged that it might be added to the other decorations. It was instantly given the place of honor over the entrance and above the piece of milk-tin. This gift from Dot caused an immediate flow of conversation, because every bird was pleased to have something to talk about. They all began to say how beautiful the beads were. Quite too lovely, said one. What a charming little human! exclaimed another. Just the finish that our bower required was a general remark, and a great many kept exclaiming so tasteful, so sweet, how elegant, exquisite, it's a love, it's a dear, and so on. A great deal more was said, but the oldest bower bird, thinking that all the adjectives were getting used up, told the frogs and crickets to start the music again, so as to keep the excitement going, and all further observations were drowned in the noise. Presently the younger birds flew down to the bower and began to play and dance, like a troupe of children. They ran round and round the bower, and two and fro through it, gleefully chasing each other. Then they would assemble in groups, and hop up and down, and dance to one another in what Dot thought a rather awkward fashion, but she was thinking of the elegance and grace of the native companions, who can make beautiful movements with their long legs and necks, whilst these little bower birds are rather ungainly in their steps. What amused her was to see how the young cockbirds showed off to the little hens. They were conceited fellows, and only seemed happy when they had five or six little hens looking admiringly at their every movement. At such times they would dance and hop with great delight, and the little hens, in a circle round them, watched their hops and steps with absorbed interest. Immensely pleased with himself, the young dancer would fluff out his feathers so as to look as big as possible, and after strutting about, would suddenly shoot out a leg and a wing, first on one side and then on the other, then spring high into the air and do a sort of step dance when his feet touched the earth again. Endless were the tricks he resorted to, to show off his feathers and dancing to the best advantage, and the little hens watched it all with silent intentness. In the meantime the frogs and crickets stopped to rest, and Dot could hear the conversation of some of the old birds perched near her. A little party of elderly hens were discussing the young birds who were dancing at the bower. I must say I don't admire that new step which is becoming so popular amongst the young birds, said one elderly hen, and all her companions rustled their feathers, closed their beaks tightly, and nodded their heads in various ways. One said it was rough, another that it was ungainly, and others that it was unmanorly. As for manners, said the first speaker, the bower birds of this day can't be said to have any, and all her companions chorused, no indeed. In my young day, continued the elderly hen, and all the group were sighing, in our young days, when a young hen perched on a bough above them and interrupted pertly, dear me, can't you good birds find anything more interesting to talk about than ancient history? At this the groups of gossips whispered angrily to one another, minks, hussy, wildcat, etc., and the rude young bird flew back to her companions. What I object to most in young birds, said another elderly hen, is their appearance. Some of them do nothing all day but preen their feathers. Look at the oversteadied arrangements of their wing flights, and the affected exactness of their tail feathers. One looks in vain for sweetness and simplicity in the present day young bower birds. Even that is better than the newer fashion of scarcely preening the feathers at all. Observed yet another of the group. Many of the young birds take no pride in their feathers whatever, but devote all their time to studying the habits of out-of-the-way insects. A chorus of disapproval from all present supported this remark. Studies that interfere with the young hen's appearance should not be permitted, said one bird. What is the good of knowing all about insects when we live on berries and fruit? asked another. The sight of insects gives one the creeps, said a third. I am thankful to say all my little hens care for nothing beyond playing at the bower and preening their feathers. Said an affectionate bower bird mother, they get a deal of attention paid to them. No young satin bird would look at a learned little bower hen, said the bird, who had first objected to untidy and studious young hens. For my part, I never allow a chick of mine even to mention insects, unless they are well-known beetles. Dot thought this chattering very stupid, so she went round a bush to where the old fathers of the bower birds were perched. They were grave old fellows, arrayed in their satin blue-black plumage, and she found them all more or less in a grumbling humor. Birds at our time of life should not have to attend parties, said several, and Dot wondered why they came. How are you, old neighbor? said one to another. Terribly bored, was the reply. How long must we stay, do you think? asked another. Oh, until these young fools have finished amusing themselves, answered its friend. The only satin birds who seemed to Dot to be interested in one another were some engaged in discussing the scarcity of berries and the wrongs done to bower birds by white humans, destroying the wild fig and lily-pilly trees. This grievance and the question as to what berries or figs agreed best with each old bower bird's digestion were the only topics discussed with any animation. Dot soon tired of listening to the birds and returned to the kangaroo, who asked her if she cared to stay any longer. The little girl said she had seen and heard enough, and judging by this one she didn't care for parties. Neither do I, whispered the kangaroo, they make me feel tired, and somehow they seem to remind one of everything one knows that's sad, in spite of all the gaiety. Is it gay? inquired Dot, hesitating a little in her speech, for she had felt rather dull and miserable. Well, everyone says it's gay, and there is always a deal of noise, so I suppose it is, answered the kangaroo. I'd rather be in your pouch, so let us go away, entreated Dot, and they left the bower-place without any of the birds noticing their departure, for they were all busy gossiping or discussing the great berry or digesting questions. It was towards evening, when they reached an open plain, and here they met an emu. As both Dot and the kangaroo were thirsty, they asked the emu the way to a water-hole or tank. I'm going to a tank now, replied the emu. Let us proceed together. Do you think it will be safe to drink tonight? inquired the kangaroo anxiously. Well, to tell the truth, said the emu lightly, it is likely to be a little difficult. There is a somewhat straining feeling between the white humans and ourselves just now. In consequence, we have to resort to a little strategy on our visits to the tanks, and we avoid eating anything tempting left about at camping-places. Are they laying poison for you? asked the kangaroo in horrified tones. They are doing something of the kind, we think, answered the emu airily, for some of us have had most unpleasant symptoms after picking up morsels at camping-grounds. Several have died. We were quite surprised, for hitherto there had been no better cure for emu indigestion than wire nails, hoop iron, and preserved milk cans. The worst symptoms have yielded to scraps of barbed wire in my own case, but these emus died in spite of all remedies. But I heard, said the kangaroo, that emus were protected by the government. I never understood why. We are protected, said the huge bird, because we form a part of the Australian arms. So do we, said the kangaroo, but we are not protected. True, said the bird, but the humans can make some money out of you when you are dead, whereas we serve no purpose at all, accepting alive, then we add a charm to the scenery, and moreover each of our eggs will make a pound cake. But the time will come, friend, when there will be neither emu nor kangaroo for Australia's arms. No creature will be left to represent the land but the bunny-rabbit and the sheep. I hate the sheep, said the kangaroo. They eat all our grass. You have not studied them as we have, answered the emu. They are most entertaining. We have great fun with them, and we have learnt some capital sheep games from those dogs humans drive them with. It's really exciting to drive a big mob when they want to break and scatter. We were chasing them here and there all over the plain today. I don't like sheep, said Dot. They are so stupid. So they are, agreed the emu, and that is what puzzles me. What is it about the sight of sheep that excites one so? When one gets into a big flock one has to dance, one can't help oneself. We had a great dance in a flock today, and the lambs would get under our feet. So I'm sorry to say a good many of them were killed. Men will certainly kill you if you do that, said Dot. We know it, chuckled the emu. That is why the tank is not quite safe just now. But this evening I will show you a new plan by which to learn if humans are camped at a tank or not. We have played the trick with great success for several nights. Conversing thus the emu, the kangaroo, and Dot wandered on until the emu requested them to wait for a few minutes, whilst it peeped at the tank, which was still a long way off. It presently returned and said that it felt quite suspicious, because everything looked so clear and safe. From this point of high ground, said the bird, you can watch our proceedings. I will now give the signal and return to my post here. The emu then ran at a great pace along the edge of the plain, and emitted a strange rattling cry. After disappearing from sight for a time, it returned hurriedly to where Dot and her friend were waiting. Now see, said the emu, nodding at the distant side of the plain. Dot's eyes were not so keen of sight as those of an emu, but she thought she could see something like a little cloud of dust far, far away across the dry brown grass of the plain. Soon she was quite sure that the little cloud was advancing towards her side of the plain and in the direction of the tank. As it came nearer, she could see the bobbing heads of emus, popping up above the dust, and she could see some of the birds running round the little cloud. What is the cause of all that dust? she asked the emu. Sheep, it answered, with a merry chuckle. But what are the emus doing with the sheep? asked Dot and the kangaroo, now fully interested in the emu's maneuver. They are driving them to the water at the tank, said the bird, highly delighted with the scheme. The sheep will soon know that they are near water, and will go to it without driving. Then we shall watch, and if they quietly drink and scatter, it will be safe for us. But if they see anything unusual in break and run, well, we shan't drink at the tank tonight. There will be humans and dogs there, and we don't cultivate their society just now. Really, that is the cleverest thing I have heard for a long time, said the kangaroo, full of admiration for the trick. How did you jump to that conclusion? The idea sprang upon us, answered the emu, with an immense hop in the air and a dancing movement, and it came to the ground again. Dear me! it exclaimed, the sight of those sheep is beginning to excite me, and I can hardly keep still. I wonder what there is so exciting about sheep. Dot could see now the advancing flock of sheep, with their attendant mob of emu quite well. The animals had got sent of the water, and with contented bleeding were slowly moving with a rippling effect across the dusty plain. The mob of emu soon left the sheep to go their own way, and grouped in a cluster, watched with bobbing heads every movement of the flock. Dot, the kangaroo, and the emu, looked towards the tank with silent interest. I am stationed here, whispered to the bird, to give a warning in case there is any danger in this direction. Emus are posted all round the tank on the same duty. Dot could see the whole scene well, far beyond, a few low shrubs on the opposite side of the sheet of water. There was no sheltering bush near the great tank which had been excavated on the bare plain. Onward came the sheep, and quite stationary in the distance remained the emu mob. Just as the first sheep were descending the deep slope of the tank, a plover rose from amongst the bushes with a shrill cry. The emu started at the sound, and whispered to the kangaroo, There'll be no drink to-night, watch. The cry of the plover seemed to arrest the advance of the timid sheep. They waited in a closely packed flock, looking around. But presently, the old leader gave a deep bleat, and they moved forward towards the water. Shriek, shriek! cried the plover from the bushes, screaming as they rose and flew away, and suddenly the flock of sheep broke and hurried back to the open plain. At the same instant Dot could hear the sharp barking of a sheep-dog, a noise that produced an instant effect on the creatures she was with. With lightning speed the kangaroo had popped her into her pouch and was hopping away, and the emu was striding with its long legs as fast as it could for the cover of the bush. Just as they entered the bush shelter, Dot peeped out of the pouch across the plain, and could see the mob of emu in a cloud of dust running and almost out of sight. When they had reached a place of safety, the friendly emu bid the kangaroo and Dot good night. We shall have to go thirsty tonight, it said, but there will be a heavy dew and the grass will be wet enough to cool one's mouth. That pretty trick of ours was such a success that it is almost worth one's while to lose one's drink in proving it. Turning to Dot, it said, you will be able to tell the big humans that we emus are not such fools as they think, and that we find their flocks of silly sheep most useful and entertaining animals. Chuckling to itself the emu strode off, leaving Dot in the kangaroo to pass another night in the solitude of the bush. Dot and the Kangaroo by Ethel C. Pedley Chapter 11 The next day they travelled a long distance. At about noon they came to a part of the country which the kangaroo said she knew well. But we must be careful, she said, as we are very near humans in this part. As Dot was tired, for she'd had to walk much more than usual, the kangaroo suggested that she should rest at the pretty spot they'd reached while she herself went in search of Willie Wagtail. Dot had to promise the kangaroo over and over again not to leave the spot during her absence. She was afraid lest the little girl should get lost like the little joey. After many farewells and much hopping back to give Dot warnings and make promises of returning soon, the kangaroo went in search of Willie Wagtail, and the little girl was left all alone. Dot looked for a nice shady nook in which to lie down and rest, and she found the place so cheerful and pretty that she was not afraid of being alone. She was in the hollow of an old water-course. It was rather like an English forest glade, it was so open and grassy, and here and there were pretty shrubs and little hillocks and hollows. At first Dot thought that she would sit on the branch of a huge tree that had but recently fallen and lay forlornly clothed in withered leaves. But opposite to this dead giant of the bush was a thick shrub with a decayed tree stump beside it that made a nice sheltered corner which she liked better. So Dot laid herself down there, and in a few minutes she was fast asleep. Though, as she dropped off into the land of dreams, she thought how wonderfully quiet that little glade was, and felt somewhat surprised to find no bush-creatures to keep her company. Sometime before Dot woke her dreams became confused and strange. There seemed to be great crowds in them and the murmur of many voices talking together. As she gradually awakened, she realised that the voices were real and not a part of her dreams. There was a great hobbub, a fluttering of wings and rustling of leaves and grass. Through all this confusion, odd sentences became clear to her drowsy senses. Such phrases as, You'd better perch here, this isn't your place, go over there, no no, I'm sure I'm right, the welcome-swallow says so. Has anyone gone for the opossum? He says the court ought to be held at night. Don't make such a noise or you'll wake the prisoner. Who's to be the judge? This last inquiry provoked such a noise of diverse opinions that Dot became fully awake and, sitting up, gazed around with eyes full of astonishment. When she had fallen asleep, there had not been a creature near her, but now she was literally hemmed in on every side by birds and small animals. The branches of the fallen tree were covered with a feathered company, and in the open space between it and Dot's nook was a constantly increasing crowd of larger birds, such as cranes, plover, duck, turkey buzzards, black swan, and amongst them a great grave pelican. The animals were few and apparently came late. There was a little timid wallaby, a bandicoot, some kangaroo rats, a shy wombat who grumbled about the daylight, as also did a native bear and an opossum, who were rarely driven to the gathering by a bevy of screaming parrots. Dot was wide awake at once with delight. Nearly every creature she had ever heard of seemed to be present, and the brilliant colours of the parrots and parakeets made the scene as gay as a rainbow in a summer noonday sky. Oh, you darlings, she said, how good of you all to come and see me! This greeting from Dot caused an instant silence among the creatures, and she could not help seeing that they looked very uncomfortable. There was soon a faint whispering from bird to bird, which rose higher and higher until Dot made out that they were all saying, she ought to be told. You tell her. No, you tell her yourself. It's not my business. And every bird, for it was the birds who, by reason of their larger numbers, took the lead in the proceedings, seemed to be trying to shift an unpleasant task upon its neighbours. Presently the solemn pelican waddled forward and stood before Dot, saying to the assemblage, I will explain our presence. Addressing the little girl, it said, we are here to place you on trial for the wrongs we bush-creatures have suffered from the cruelties of white humans. You will meet with all fairness in your trial, as the proceedings will be conducted according to the custom of your own courts of justice. The welcome swallow, having built its nest for three successive seasons under the eaves of the gabble-babble courthouse, is deeply learned in human law business, and will instruct us how to proceed. Your conviction will therefore leave you no room for complaint so far as your trial is concerned. All the birds clapped their wings in applause at the conclusion of this speech, and the pelican was told by the welcome swallow that he should plead as prosecutor. What do you mean, plead as prosecutor? asked the pelican gravely. You've got to get the prisoner convicted as guilty whether she is or not, answered the swallow, making a dart at a mosquito, which it ate with relish. Oh! said the pelican doubtfully, and all the creatures looked at one another, as if they didn't quite understand the justice of the arrangement. But, said the pelican, hesitating a little, suppose I don't think the prisoner guilty. She seems very small and harmless. That doesn't matter at all. You've got to get her made out as guilty by the jury. It's good human law, snapped the swallow, and all the creatures said, oh. Now for the defence, said the swallow briskly. There ought to be someone for that, who is friendly with the king. Who's the king? asked all the creatures breathlessly. He's a bigger human than all the rest, and everybody's business is his business, so he's always going to law. I know, said the magpie, and she piped out six bars of God Save the King. You are the one for the defence, said the swallow, quite delighted, as were all the other creatures at the magpie's accomplishment. You must save the prisoner from the jury finding her guilty. But, objected the magpie, how can I, when only last fruit season my brother and two sisters and six cousins were shot just because they ate a few grapes? That doesn't matter. You've got to get her off, I tell you, said the swallow irritably. Go over there, and ask her what you are to say. So the magpie flew over to Dot's side, and she at once began to teach it the rest of God Save the King. I like this game, Dot presently said to the magpie. Do you, said the magpie with surprise? It seems to me very slow, and there's no sense in it. Why are the birds all perching together over there? Asked Dot, pointing to a branch of the dead tree. Since they all hate one another and want to get away. The gullars have pecked the butcher-bird twice in five minutes. The pee-weed keeps quarrelling with the soldier-bird, and none of them can bear the English sparrow. The swallow says that's the jury, answered the magpie. Their business is to do what they like with you when all the talking is done, and whether they find you guilty or not will depend on if they are tired or hungry and feel cross. Or if the trial las only a short time, and they are pleased with the grubs that will be brought them presently. How funny, said Dot, not a bit alarmed at all these preparations for her trial, for she loved all the creatures so much that she could not think that any of them wish to hurt her. If this is human law, said the magpie, it isn't funny at all, it is mad or wicked. Fancy my having to defend a human. At this point in their conversation, the ill feeling amongst the jury broke out into open fighting, because the English sparrow was a foreigner, and they said that it would certainly sympathise with the humans who had brought it to Australia. This was just an excuse to get rid of it. The sparrow said that it wanted to go out of the jury, and had never wished to belong to it, and flew away joyfully. Then all the rest of the jury grumbled at the good luck of the sparrow in getting out of the trial, for they could see it pecking up grass seed and enjoying itself greatly, whilst they were all crowded together on one branch, and were feeling hungry before the trial had even begun. There was great suspense and quiet while the judge was being chosen. Although Dot had eaten the berries of understanding, it was generally considered that, to be quite fair, the judge must be able to understand human talk, and amidst much clapping of wings, a large white cockatoo was appointed. The cockatoo lost no time in clamouring interposition on the stump near Dot. You're quite sure you understand human talk? said the little wallaby to the cockatoo. It was the first remark he had made, for he'd been quite bewildered by all the noise and fuss. My word, yes! replied the cockatoo, who had been taught in a public refreshment room. Then, thinking that he would give a display of his learning, he elevated his sulfur crest and gabbled off. Go to Jericho, twenty to one on the favourite. I'm your man. Now then, ma'am, hurry up. Don't keep the coach waiting. Give him the Reds' bill. So long. Ta-ra-ra-boom-dee-ay. God save the king! All the creatures present looked gravely at Dot to see what effect this harang in her own language would have upon her, and were somewhat surprised to see her holding her little sides and rolling about with laughter. The cockatoo was quite annoyed at Dot's amusement. He fluffed out all his feathers and let off a scream that could have been heard a quarter of a mile away. This seemed to impress everyone with his importance, and the whole court became attentive to the proceedings. At this moment the swallow skimmed overhead, and having caught the words God save the king called out, that's the way to do it, keep that up. And the cockatoo, thinking that the swallow meant him to scream still more, set up another yell, which he continued until everyone felt deafened by the noise. We have chosen quite the right judge, said an elegant blue crane to a wild duck. He will make himself heard and respected. Where at the cockatoo winked at the crane and said, You bet I will! The pelican now advanced to the space before the stump, and there was a murmur of excitement, because it was about to open the trial by a recital of wrongs done to the bush-creatures by white humanity. Dot could not realise that she was being tried seriously, and was delighted that the pelican had come nearer to her stump, so that she had a better view of him. She thought him such an old, odd-looking bird, with his big bald head and gigantic beak. She could not help thinking that his beak must be too heavy for him, and asked him if he would like to rest it on the stump. The pelican did not understand Dot's kindness, and gave her a look of offended dignity that was quite withering. So Dot did not speak to him again. But she longed to feel if the bag of skin that drooped under his beak had anything in it. The pelican's legs seemed to Dot to be too frail and short to bear such a big bird, not to mention the immense beak. And when the creature stood on one leg only, she laughed, where at the pelican gave her another offended look, which effectively prevented their becoming friends. The pelican was beginning to open his beak to speak, and being such a large beak, opening it took some time, when the welcome swallow fussed into the court, and said that nothing could be done until they had some horse-hair. This interruption, and the swallows' repeated assurance that no human trial of importance could take place without horse-hair, set all the creatures chattering with astonishment and questions. Some said the swallow was joking, others said that it was making senseless delays, and that night would fall before they could bring the prisoner to justice. There was much grumbling on all sides and complaints of hunger, and the jury began to clamour for the grubs that they'd been promised, at which the magpie whispered to Dot that she certainly would be found guilty. The fact was now quite clear to the jury before the trial began. But the swallow persisted that they must have horse-hair. What for? asked every one, sulkily. Don't you see for yourselves? squeaked the swallow excitedly. The judge looks like a cockatoo. Well, of course he does, said all the creatures. He is a cockatoo, so he looks like one. Yes, cried the swallow, but you must stick horse-hairs on his head. Human justice must be done with horse-hair. The prisoner won't believe the cockatoo is a judge without. Good gracious! exclaimed the swallow. Just look! the prisoner is scratching the judge's pole. We really must have horse-hair. Dot, seeing the swallow's indignation, drew away from the stump, and the cockatoo tried to look as if he had never seen her before, and as if the idea of having his pole scratched by the prisoner was one that could never have entered his head. But if we do put horse-hair on the cockatoo's head, argued the creatures, what will it do? It will impress the prisoner, said the swallow. How, they all asked curiously. Because the cockatoo won't look like a cockatoo, replied the swallow, with exasperation. Then what will he look like? asked every creature in breathless excitement. He won't look like any creature that ever lived, retorted the swallow. Perfect silence followed this explanation, for every bird and animal was trying to understand human sense and reason. Then the smallest kangaroo rat broke the stillness. If, said the kangaroo rat, only a little horse-hair can do that, surely the prisoner can imagine the judges and the cockatoo without our having to wait for the horse-hair. Let's get on with the trial. This idea was received with applause, and the swallow flew off in a huff, whilst the cookaburra, on a tree near the court, softly laughed to himself. Once more the pelican took up his position to open the trial. The cockatoo puffed himself out as big as he could, fluffed out his cheek-feathers, and half closed his eyes. His solemnly attentive attitude won the admiration of all the court, and the absence of horse-hair was not felt by any one. The welcome swallow, having got over his ill temper, returned to help the proceedings, and the jury all put their heads under their wings and went to sleep. Fire away screamed the cockatoo, and the trial began. My duty is a most painful one, said the pelican. For whereas, said the swallow, the prisoner known, named and described, added the swallow, as Dot is now before you, to be tried, heard, determined, and judged, gabbled the swallow, on a charge of cruelty, and feloniously killing and slaying, prompted the swallow, to birds and animals, the term not applying to horse, mare, pony, bull, ox, dog, cat, heifer, steer, calf, mule, ass, sheep, lamb, dog, pig, sow, goat, or other domestic animal, interposed in one breath the swallow, quoting the Cruelty to Animals Act. She is, hereby, put in the swallow, brought to trial on diverse, whispered the swallow, charges, herein after, said the swallow, to be named and described by the aforesaid, interjected the swallow, birds and animals, herein after mentioned, stated the swallow, the said animals being denizens of the bush, and in no way is related to horse, mare, pony, bull, ox, began the swallow again, when the cockatoo raised his crest and screamed out, stop that, I tell you, and the pelican continued stating the charge. Bush, law, enacts, said the swallow, that, whereas, prompted the swallow, all individual rights whatsoever, put in the swallow, shall be according to the statute, victoria, victoria, twenty to one against the field, shouted the judge. Between you two, said the pelican, looking angrily at the swallow and the cockatoo, I've forgotten everything I was going to say, and I shan't go on. Never mind, said the swallow cheerfully, you've saved quite enough, and no one has understood a word of the charge, so it's all right. Now, then, for the witnesses. As the swallow spoke, there was a great disturbance amongst the creatures. The swan, ducks, cranes, and waterfowl, besides the honey-suckers, and many other birds, were all fanning the air with their wings and crying, turn him out, disgusting. I never heard of such a thing in my life. The smell of it always gives me a headache, and there was such a noise that the jury all woke up, and Dot covered her ears with her hands. The cockatoo, seeing Dot's distress at the screams and hubbub, and thinking that she wanted to say something, but could not make herself heard in the general riot, decided to speak for her. So he screamed louder than all the rest, and shouted, Apples, oranges, pears, lemonade, cigarettes, and cigars, I say, what's the row? When quiet was restored, it was explained that the opossum had brought into court a pouch full of gum-leaves, which it was eating. It had also given some to the native bear and wallaby, and in consequence the whole air was laden with the odour of eucalyptus. Oh dear, said Dot, it smells just like when I have a cold. Eating eucalyptus leaves in court is contempt of court, cried the swallow, and everyone echoed, contempt of court, contempt of court, turn them out. But they are witnesses, objected the pelican. That doesn't matter, shouted the waterfowl. It's a disgusting smell, turn them out. Hurrah! shouted the wallaby as it leaped off. What luck laughed the opossum as it cleared into the nearest tree. I am glad, sighed the koala, as it slowly moved away. That trial made my head feel empty. Well, there go three of the most important witnesses, grumbled the pelican. My eye, what a spree, said the judge. Agala, amongst the jury, wishing to be thought intelligent, inquired what charge the wallaby native bear and opossum were to bear witness to. It is a matter of skins, included in the fur rugs' claws, and the wickedness known as sport, answered the pelican. Whilst the pelican was making this explanation, as the judge, who had been longing to have his pole scratched again, sidled up to Dot and whispered softly to her, scratch cookie. But, just as he was enjoying the delicious sensation Dot's fingers produced amongst his neck feathers, as he held his head down, the pelican caught sight of the proceeding. The pelican said nothing but stared at the judge with an eye of such astonishment and stern contempt that the cockatoo instantly remembered that he was a judge, and, getting into a proper attitude, said hastily, Advance Australia, who's the next witness? And again the cookaburra laughed to himself on the tree. Fur first, explained a white ibis, call the platypus. The platypus won't come, said the kangaroo rat. Well, I never exclaimed the judge. It says that if a court is held at all it should be conducted by a representative of anti-diluvian custom, the most ancient and learned creatures such as the iguana, the snake, and ornithorincous paradoxus, that it would prefer to associate with the meanest troglodyte rather than appear amongst the present company. I understood it to say, continued the kangaroo rat, that real law could only be understood by those deeply learned in fossils. Upon my word, ejaculated the judge, shiver my timbers, what blooming impudence! Oh, you naughty bird, to use such words, exclaimed Dot, but all the court murmured, how clever! and the cockatoo was pleased. Native cat next, shouted the white ibis, but at the first mention of the native cat, nearly every bird and all the small game prepared to get away. Why don't you call the dingo at once, laughed the cuckaburra, who was really keeping guard over Dot, although she didn't know it. Humans kill dingoes. The dingo, the dingo! every creature repeated in horror and consternation, and they all looked about in fear, while the cuckaburra chuckled to himself at all the stir his words had made. It's quite true that animals and birds kill one another, said the magpie, who thought he ought to say something in Dot's defense, as that was his part in the trial. Therefore it is the same nature that makes humans kill us. If it is the nature of humans to kill, the same as it is the nature of birds and animals to kill, where is the sense and justice of trying the prisoner for what she can't help doing? Good! said the welcome sparrow, argued like a lawyer. At this unexpected turn of the trial, the judge softly whistled to himself, Pop goes the weasel. Don't talk to us about nature and justice and sense, replied the pelican contemptuously. This is a court of law, and we have nothing to do with any of them. The court all cheered at this reply, and the magpie subsided in the sulks. Call the kangaroo, cried the white ibis. It's no good, cheered the cuckaburra. Kangaroo and Dot are great friends. She won't come if you called. Till all's blue, interrupted the judge, and he went on with Pop goes the weasel. This news caused a buzz of excitement. Everyone was astonished that the kangaroo, who had the heaviest grievances of all, wouldn't appear against the prisoner. Is it possible, said the pelican, addressing the cuckaburra in slow, stern accents, is it possible that the kangaroo has forgiven all her grievances? All, said the cuckaburra. The hunting, said the pelican. Yes, answered the cuckaburra. The rugs? Yes. The boots? Yes. And, said the pelican, still more solemnly and slowly, while all the court listened in breathless attention, and has she forgiven kangaroo-tail soup? Yes, she's forgiven that, too, answered the cuckaburra cheerfully. Then, said the pelican, hotly, I throw up the case, and he spread his huge black wings and flapped his way up into the sky and away. What a go, said the judge, and he might have said more. Only Dot could not hear anything on account of the racket and confusion. The trial had failed, and every creature was making all the noise it could, and preparing to hurry away. In the middle of the turmoil, Dot's kangaroo bounded into the open space, panting with excitement and delight. Dot! Dot! she cried. I found Willy Wagtail, and he knows your way. Come along at once, and, putting Dot in her pouch, the kangaroo leaped clean over the judge, and carried her off. Dot and the Kangaroo by Ethel C. Pedley Chapter 12 Although the kangaroo was longing to hear the reason why so many bush-creatures had collected round Dot whilst she was away, she was too anxious to carry her to Willy Wagtail before nightfall to wait and inquire what had happened. Dot, too, was so excited at hearing that her way home had been found, that she could only think of the delight of seeing her father and mother again. So the kangaroo had hopped until she was tired and needed rest before they spoke. Then Dot described the trial, and made the kangaroo laugh about the cockatoo judge, but she did not say how it had all ended, because the kangaroo had forgiven Dot for humans making rugs of her fur, boots of her skin, and soup of her tail. She was afraid of hurting her feelings by mentioning such delicate subjects. The kangaroo never noticed that anything was left out, because she was bursting to relate her interview with Willy Wagtail. She told Dot how she had found Willy Wagtail near his old haunt, how that gossiping little bird had told all the news of the gabble-babble town and district in ten minutes, and how he had said he believed he knew Dot by sight, and that if such were the case he would show Dot and the kangaroo the way to the little girl's home. Then Dot and the kangaroo hurried on their way again, the little girl sometimes running and walking to rest the kind animal, and sometimes being carried in that soft, cozy pouch that had been her cradle and carriage for all those days. It was quite dusk by the time they arrived at a split-rail fence, and heard a little bird singing, Sweet Pretty Creature, Sweet Pretty Creature. That is Willy Wagtail making love, said the kangaroo, with the humorous twinkle in her quiet eyes. Peep round the bush, she said to Dot, and you'll see them spooning. Dot glanced through the branches, and saw two Wagtails, who looked very smart with their black coats and white waistcoats, sitting on two posts of the fence a little way off. They were each pretending that their long, big tails were too heavy to balance them properly, and they seemed to be always just saving themselves from toppling off their perch. Occasionally Willy would dart into the air, to show what an expert in flying he was. He would shoot straight upwards, turn a double somersault backwards, and wing off in the direction one least expected. Afterwards he would return to his post as calm and cool as if he had done nothing surprising, and say, Pretty Pretty, Chippity Chipp, that name meaning the other Wagtail, then Chippity Chipp showed off her flying, and they both said to one another, Sweet Pretty Creature. At the sound of Dot and the kangaroo's approach, Chippity Chipp hit herself in a tree, and Willy Wagtail, not knowing who was disturbing them, scolded angrily. But when he saw the kangaroo and the little girl, he gave them the most cordial greeting, and wobbled about on a rail as if he must tumble off every second. This is Dot, said the kangaroo a little anxiously, and rather breathless with the speed she had made. Just as I had expected exclaimed Willy Wagtail, with the jerk of his tail, which nearly sent him headlong off the rail. I should know you anywhere, little human, though you do look a bit different. You want preening, he added. This last remark was an allusion to Dot's appearance, which certainly was most untidy and dirty, for beyond an occasional lick from the kangaroo she had been five days without being tidied and cleaned. I couldn't do it better, said the kangaroo apologetically. It doesn't matter at all, said Dot, putting her tangled curls back from her eyes. Well, I know where you live, gabbled off the Wagtail. It's the second big paddock from here, if you follow the belt of the Shioke trees over there. It's a house just like those things in Gabble Babble Township. There's a yellow sheep-dog, who's very good-tempered, and a black one that made a snap at my tail the other day. There's an old grey cart-horse, an honest fellow, but rather dull, and a bay mare who is much better company. There's a little red cow, who is a great friend of mine, and she had a calf a few days before you were lost. Dear me, exclaimed the gossiping bird, what a fuss there has been these five days over trying to find you. I've been over there every day to see the sight. Such a lot of humans, and such horses. I enjoyed myself immensely, and made a lot of friends amongst the horses, but I didn't care so much for the dogs. I thought them a nasty quarrelsome lot. I went with the whole turnout to see the search. Goodness, the distances they went, and the noise and the big fires they made, it was exciting fun. They brought over some black humans. Trackers is what they are called. At least the mounted troopers' horses told me so. My word! The troopers' horses are jolly fellows. Well, these black trackers went in front of each party just like dogs, with their heads to the ground, and they turned over every leaf and twig, and said if a human, a horse, or kangaroo had broken it, or been that way. They found your track fast enough, but one evening it came to an end quite suddenly, and weren't they all surprised. I heard from a trooper's horse, such a nice horse he was, that the trackers and white humans said it was just as if you had disappeared into the sky. There was just a bit of your fur on a bush, and nothing anywhere else but a kangaroo's trail. No one could make it out. That was when I took you in my pouch, exclaimed the kangaroo. Now, said the wag-tail, most of them have given up the search. Just this evening, Dot's father and a few other humans came back, and the yellow sheep-dog told me the last big party is to start at noon to-morrow, and after that there will be no more attempt to find Dot. Only the sheep-dog said he heard his master say he would go on hunting alone until he found her body. I haven't been over there to-day, wound up the bird. They are also miserable and tired. It gave me the blues yesterday. What are we to do? It is quite dark and late, asked the kangaroo. You'd better stay here, counseled the wag-tail. One night more last doesn't matter, and I don't like leaving chip-pity-chip at night-time. She likes me to sing to her all night because she is nervous. I'll go with you to-morrow morning early, if you await here until then. Having found your lost way so far, said the kangaroo to Dot, it would be a pity to risk losing it again. So we'd better wait for Willie Wag-tail to guide us to-morrow. To tell the truth, the kangaroo was very glad of the excuse to keep Dot one night more before parting from her. It will seem like losing my little joy again when I am once more alone, she said sadly. But you will never go far away, said Dot. I should cry if I thought you would never come to see me. You will live on our selection, won't you? But the kangaroo looked very doubtful, and said that she loved Dot, but she was afraid of humans and their dogs. After supper of berries and grass, Dot and the kangaroo lay down for the night in a little bower of bushes. But they talked until very late of how they were to manage to reach Dot's home without danger from guns and dogs. At last, when they tried to sleep, they could not do so on account of Willie Wag-tail's singing to his sweetheart. Sweet pretty creature, sweet pretty creature, without stopping, for more than five minutes at a time. I wonder Chip-pity-chip doesn't get tired of that song, said Dot. She never does, yawned the kangaroo, and he never tires of singing it. Sweet pretty creature, saying Willie Wag-tail. CHAPTER XIII Two men were walking near a cottage in the winter sunlight of the early morning. They came to the door a young woman, who looked pale and tired. She carried a bowl of milk to a little cart, and on her way back to the cottage she paused, and shading her eyes that were red with weeping lingered awhile, looking far and near. Then with a sigh, she returned indoors and worked restlessly at her household duties. It breaks my heart to see my wife do that, said the taller man, who carried a gun. All day long she comes out and looks for the child. One knows, now, that the poor little one can never come back to us, and as the big man spoke, there was a queer choking in his voice. The younger man did not speak, but he patted his friend's shoulder in a kindly manner, which showed that he, too, was very sorry. Even you have lost heart, Jack, said the big bushman, but we will find her yet. The wife shall have that comfort. You'll never do it now, said the young fellow, with a mournful shake of the head. There is not an inch of ground that so young a child could reach, that we have not searched. The mystery is, what could have become of her? That's what beats me, said the tall man, who was Dot's father. I think of it all day and all night. There is the track of the dear little night as clear as possible for five miles, as far as the dry creek. The tracker says she rested her poor, weary legs by sitting under the black butt tree. At that point she vanishes completely. The black say there isn't a trace of man or beast beyond that place, accepting the trail of a big kangaroo. As you say, it's a mystery. As the men walked towards the bush, close to the place where Dot had run after the hair the day she was lost, neither of them noticed the fuss and scolding made by a willy wagtail, although the little bird seemed likely to die of excitement. Willy wagtail was really sane. Dot and her kangaroo are coming this way. Whatever you do, don't shoot them with that gun. Presently the young man, Jack, noticed the little bird. What friendly little chaps those wagtails are, he said, and see how tame and fearless this one is. Upon my word he nearly flew in your face that time. Dot's father did not notice the remark, though he had stopped suddenly and was peering into the bush whilst he quietly shifted his gun into position, ready to raise it and fire. By Jove, he said, I saw the head of the kangaroo a moment ago behind that iron bark. Fancy it's coming so near the house. Next time it shows, I'll get a shot at it. Both men waited for the moment when the kangaroo should be seen again. The next instant the kangaroo bound it out of the bush into the open paddock. Swift as lightning up went the cruel gun, but as it exploded with a terrible report, the man, Jack, struck it upwards and the fatal bullet lodged in the branch of a tall gun tree. Great Scott exclaimed Jack, pointing at the kangaroo. Dot cried her father, dropping his gun and stumbling blindly forward with outstretched arms towards his little girl, who had just tumbled out of the kangaroo's pouch in her hurry to reach her father. Hu-hu-ho-ho-hee-hee-ha-ha-ha laughed a cookaburra on a tree as he saw Dot clasped in her father's great strong arms and the little face hidden in his big brown beard. Wife, wife, shout at Dot's father. Dot, come back. Dot, come back. Dot's here, yelled the young man, as he ran like mad to the house. And all the time the good kangaroo sat up on her horses, still panting with fear from the sound of the gun, and a little afraid to stay, yet so interested in all the excitement and delight that she couldn't make up her mind to hop away. Dada, said Dot, you nearly killed Dot and her kangaroo. Oh, if you killed my kangaroo, I'd never have been happy any more. But I don't understand, said her father, how did you come to be in the kangaroo's pouch? Oh, I've got lots and lots to tell you, said Dot. But come and stroke, dear kangaroo, who saved little Dot and brought her home. That I will, said Dot's father, and never more will I hurt her kangaroo. Nor any of the bush-creatures, said Dot. Promise, Dada? I promise, said the big man, in a queer-sounding voice, as he kissed Dot over and over again, and walked towards the frightened animal. Dot wriggled down from her father's arms and said to the kangaroo, It's all right, no one's ever going to be shot or hurt here again, and the kangaroo looked delighted at the good news. Dada, said Dot, holding her father's hand, and with her disengaged hand, touching the kangaroo's little paw. This is my own dear kangaroo. Dot's father, not knowing quite how to show his gratitude, stroked the kangaroo's head, and said, How do you do? Which, when he came to think of it afterwards, seemed rather a foolish thing to say. But he wasn't used, like Dot, to talking to bush-creatures, and had not eaten the berries of understanding. The kangaroo saw that Dot's father was grateful, and so she was pleased. But she did not like to be stroked by a man who let off guns. So she was glad that Dot's mother had run to where they were standing, and was hugging and kissing the little girl, and crying all the time. For then, Dot's father turned and watched his wife and child, and kept doing something to his eyes with a handkerchief, so that there was no attention to spare for kangaroos. The good kangaroo, seeing how happy these people were, and knowing that her life was quite safe, wanted to peep about Dot's home, and see what it was like, for kangaroos can't help being curious. So presently, she quietly hopped off towards the cottage, and then a very strange thing happened. Just as the kangaroo was wondering what the great iron tank by the kitchen door was meant for, there popped out of the open door a joey kangaroo. Now, to human beings, all joey kangaroos look alike, but amongst kangaroos there are no two the same, and Dot's kangaroo at once recognised in the little joey her own baby kangaroo. The joey knew its mother directly, and whilst Dot's kangaroo was too astonished to move, and not being able to think, was trying to get at a conclusion why her joey was coming out of the cottage door, the little kangaroo, with a hop skip and a jump, had landed itself comfortably in the nice pouch Dot had just vacated. Then Dot's mother, rejoicing over the safe return of her little girl, was not more happy than the kangaroo with her joey once more in her pouch. With big bounds, she leapt towards Dot, and the little girl, suddenly looking round for her kangaroo friend, clapped her hands with delight as she saw a little grey nose, a pair of tiny black paws, and the point of a black little tail hanging out of the pouch that had carried hers so often. Why, exclaimed Dot's mother, if she hasn't got the little joey Jack brought me yesterday, he picked it up after a kangaroo hunt some time ago. It's her joey, her lost joey, cried Dot, running to the kangaroo. Oh dear kangaroo, I am so glad, she said, for now we are all happy, as happy as can be. Dot hugged her kangaroo and kissed the little joey, and they all three talked together, so that none of them understood what the others were saying, only that they were all much pleased and delighted. Wife, said Dot's father, I'll tell you what's mighty queer. Our little girl is talking away to those animals, and they're all understanding one another, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to treat kangaroos as if they were human beings. I expect, said his wife, that their feelings are not much different from ours. See how that poor animal is rejoicing in getting back its little one, just as we are over having our little Dot again. To think of all the poor things I have killed, said Dot's father sadly, I'll never do it again. No, said his wife, we must try and get everyone to be kind to the bush creatures, and protect them all we can. This book would never come to an end if it told all that past that day. How Dot explained the wonderful power of the berries of understanding, and how she told the kangaroos all that her parents wanted her to say on their behalf, and what kind things the kangaroos said in return. All day long the kangaroo stayed near Dot's home, and the little girl persuaded her to eat bread, which she said was most delicious, but one would get tired of it sooner than grass. Every effort was made by Dot and her parents to get the kangaroo to live on their selection, so that they might protect her from harm. But she said that she liked her own free life best, only she would never go far away, and would come often to see Dot. At sunset she said goodbye to Dot, a little sadly, and the child stood in the rosy light of the afterglow, waving her hand as she saw her kind animal friend hop away and disappear into the dark shadow of the bush. She wandered about for some time listening to the voices of birds and creatures, who came to tell her how glad everyone was that her way had been found, and that no harm was to before them in future. The news of her safe return and of the kangaroos finding her joey had been spread far and near by Willie Wagtail and the cookaburra, and she could hear the shouts of laughter from cookaburras telling the story until nearly dark. Quite late at night she was visited by the opossum, the native bear, and the nightjar, who entered by the open window and, sitting in the moonlight, conversed about the day's events. They said that their whole rest and sleep had been disturbed by the noise and excitement of the day creatures spreading the news through the bush. The mopoke wished to sing a sad song because Dot was feeling happy, but the opossum warned it that it was sitting in a draught on the windowsill and might spoil its beautiful voice, so it flew away and only sung in the distance. The native bear said that the story of Dot's return and the finding of kangaroos joey was so strange that it made its head feel quite empty. The opossum inspected everything in Dot's room and tried to fight itself in the looking glass. It then got the koala to look into the mirror also, and said it would get an idea into its little empty head if it did. When the koala had taken a timid peep at itself, the opossum said that the koala now had an idea of how stupid it looked, and the little bear went off to get used to having an idea in its head. The opossum was so pleased with its spiteful joke that it hastily said good night and hurried away to tell it to the other opossums. Gradually the voices of the creatures outside became more and more faint and indistinct, and then Dot slept in the gray light of the dawn. When she went out in the morning, the cooker-burrows were gurgling and laughing, the magpies were wobbling, the parakeets made their twittering, and Willie Wagtail was most lively. But Dot was astonished to find that she could not understand what any of the creatures said, although they were all very friendly towards her. When the kangaroo came to see her, she made signs that she wanted some berries of understanding. But, strange as it may seem, the kangaroo pretended not to understand. Dot has often wondered why the kangaroo would not understand. But remembering what that considerate animal had said, when she first gave her the berries, she is inclined to think that the kangaroo is afraid of learning too much, and thereby getting indigestion. Dot and her parents have often sought for the berries, but up to now they have failed to find them. There is something very mysterious about those berries. During that day every creature Dot had known in the bush came to see her, for they all knew that their lives were safe now, so they were not afraid. It greatly surprised Dot's parents to see such numbers of birds and animals coming around their little girl, and they thought it very pretty when in the evening a flock of native companions settled down, and danced their graceful dance with the little girl joining in the game. It seems to me, wife, said Dot's father with a glad laugh, that the place has become a regular menagerie. Later on Dot's father made a dam to a hollow piece of ground near the house, which soon became full of water, and is surrounded by beautiful willow trees. There all the thirsty creatures come to drink in safety, and very pretty it is to sit on the rander at that happy home, and see Dot playing near the water surrounded by bush friends, who come and go as they please, and play with the little girl beside the pretty lake. And no one in all the gable babble district hurts the bush creature, because they are all called Dot's friends. End of Chapter 13 Finale Before putting away the pen and closing the ink stand, now that Dot has said all she wishes to be recorded over bewildering adventures, the writer would like to warn the little people, that the best thing to do when one is lost in the bush, is to sit still in one place, and not to try to find one's way home at all. If Dot had done this, and had not gone off in the kangaroo's pouch, she would have been found almost directly. As the more one tries to find one's way home, the more one gets lost, and as helpful kangaroos like Dot's are very scarce, the best way to get found quickly is to wait in one place until the search party's find one. Don't forget this advice, and don't eat any strange berries in the bush, unless a kangaroo brings them to you. End of Dot and the Kangaroo