Dot and the Kangaroo | Page 7

bush.
Even the pigeons ceased to say they were afraid, but hopped silently
from bough to bough, following the movements of the Kangaroo with
eager little eyes. The Brush Turkey and the Mound-Builder left their
heaped-up nests and joined the other thirsty creatures, and only by the
crackling of the dry scrub, or the falling of a few leaves, could one tell
that so many live creatures were together in that wild place.
Presently the Kangaroo had reached the last bushes of the scrub, behind
which she crouched.
"There's not a smell or a sound," she said. "Get out, Dot, and wait here
until I return, and the Bronze-Wings have had their drink; for, did they
see you, they would be too frightened to come down, and would have
to wait another night and day."
Dot got out of the pouch, and she was very sorry when she saw how
terrified her friend looked. She could see the fur on the Kangaroo's
chest moving with the frightened beating of her heart; and her beautiful
brown eyes looked wild and strange with fear.
Instantly, the Kangaroo leaped into the open. For a second she paused
erect, sniffing and listening, and then she hastened to the water. As she

stooped to drink, Dot heard a "whrr, whrr, whrr," and, like falling
leaves, down swept the Bronze-Wings. It was a wonderful sight. The
water-hole shone in the dim light, with the great black darkness of the
trees surrounding it, and from all parts came the thirsty creatures of the
bush. The Bronze-Wings were all together. Hundred of little heads
bobbed by the edge of the pool, as the little bills were filled, and the
precious water was swallowed; then, together, a minute afterwards,
"whrr, whrr, whrr," up they flew, and in one great sweeping circle they
regained their tree-tops. Like the bush creatures, Dot also was
frightened, and running to the water, hurriedly drank, and fled back to
the shelter of the bush, where the Kangaroo was waiting for her.
"Jump in!" said the Kangaroo, "It's never safe by the water," and, a
minute after, Dot was again in the cosy pouch, and was hurrying away,
like all the others from the water where men are wont to camp, and kill
with their guns the poor creatures that come to drink.
That evening the Kangaroo tried to persuade Dot to eat some grass, but
as Dot said she had never eaten grass, it got some roots from a friendly
Bandicoot, which the little girl ate because she was hungry; but she
thought she wouldn't like to be a Bandicoot always to eat such food.
Then in a nice dry cave she nestled into the fur of the gentle Kangaroo,
and was so tired that she slept immediately.
She only woke up once. She had been dreaming that she was at home,
and was playing with the new little Calf that had come the day before
she was lost, and she couldn't remember, at first waking, what had
happened, or where she was. It was dark in the cave, and outside the
bushes and trees looked quite black--for there was but little light in that
place from the starry sky. It seemed terribly lonesome and wild. When
the Kangaroo spoke she remembered everything, and they both sat up
and talked a little.
"Mo-poke! mo-poke!" sang the Nightjar in the distance. "I wish the
Nightjar wouldn't make that noise when one wants to sleep," said the
Kangaroo. "It hasn't got any voice to speak of, and the tune is stupid. It
gives me the jim-jams, for it reminds me I've lost my baby kangaroo.
There is something wrong about some birds that think themselves

musical," she continued: "they are well behaved and considerate
enough in the day, but as soon as it is a nice, quiet, calm night, or a bit
of a moon is in the sky, they make night hideous to everyone within
earshot--'Mo-poke! mo-poke!' Oh! it gives me the blues!"
As the Kangaroo spoke she hopped to the front of the cave.
"I say, Nightjar," she said, "I'm a little sad to-night, please go and sing
elsewhere."
"Ah!" said the Nightjar, "I'm so glad I've given you deliciously dismal
thoughts with my song! I'm a great artist, and can touch all hearts. That
is my mission in the world: when all the bush is quiet, and everyone
has time to be miserable, I make them more so--isn't it lovely to be like
that?"
"I'd rather you sang something cheerful," said the Kangaroo to herself,
but out loud she said, "I find it really too beautiful, it is more than I can
bear. Please go a little farther off."
"Mo-poke! mo-poke!" croaked the Nightjar, farther and farther in the
distance, as it flew away.
"What