It was fortunate that the Kangaroo could not think of all that might
befall them, 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 fates, 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 Blackfellows 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 morass country--a gloomy, terrible-looking
place. To the left was a steep slope of small rocks and stones, leading
downwards to the hollow of sedgy land that fringed the cliffs of the
chasm. The only retreat possible was to pass down this declivity, and
try to escape by the sedgy land, and this is what the Black huntsmen 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 Blacks hurrying forward.
Already one of the dogs had far outrun the others, and with wolfish gait
and savage sounds, was pressing towards their place of observation.
The panting, trembling Kangaroo saw the approaching dog, also, and
leaped 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 looked back down the slope, to see
if the other dogs were coming to help; but 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 a toss of its head, and a terrible
snarl, it 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 its 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.
Whilst 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 leaped
forward 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 leap across 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, leave me here, and save yourself. You can never, never do it
carrying me!"
All she heard was something like "try," or "we'll 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 dashed
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 backward and drop deep into the gully below, to be
dashed to pieces on the rocks and the tree tops. 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,
wringing her hands, and burying her face in the fur of the poor gasping
creature.
"Dot," panted the Kangaroo, "make a noise,--Cry loud!--not safe 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.
[Illustration: A LEAP FOR LIFE]
Then what seemed to Dot a very terrifying thing happened; for she soon
heard other cries mingle 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 hobgoblinish. The Kangaroo's eyes
brightened, as 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 Blackfellows directly.
They stopped in their headlong speed, shouting together in their shrill
voices, "The Bunyip! the Bunyip!" 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 camp fires. There they told the
"Gins," in awe-struck voices, how it had been no Kangaroo they had
hunted, but the "Bunyip," 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 "Bunyip" had led
the huntsmen 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 "Bunyip."
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 heart swelled
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?" whimpered Dot.
"Give it water, and damp its skin, of course," said the little Bird,
contemptuously. "What fools Humans are," it 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. Set 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 animal's 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 kindheartedness 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 manners are 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?"
"Umph! 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 that old trick of ours of scaring them with our
big voices. He! he! he!" 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," it 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 in consequence it
got still ruder, and making a face at Dot, exclaimed, "yah!" 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 the
sedges, and go half a dozen small hops beyond that white gum tree,
you'll find a little cave. It's dry and warm, and good enough for
Kangaroos." And without waiting for thanks for this last kind act, it
spread its wings and flew away.