"Now we must find Willy Wagtail," said the Kangaroo. "The chances are
Click-i-ti-clack, his big cousin who lives in the bush, will be able to
tell us where to find him; for he doesn't care for the bush, and lives
almost entirely with Humans, and the queer creatures they have brought
into the country now-a-days. We may have to go a long way, so hop into
my pouch, and we will get on our way."
Once more Dot was in the kind Kangaroo's pouch. It was in the latter
end of autumn, and the air was so keen, that, as her torn little frock
was now very little protection to her against the cold, she was glad to
be back in that nice fur bag. She was used now to the springy bounding
of the great Kangaroo, and felt quite safe; so that she quite enjoyed
the wonderful and seemingly dangerous things the animal did in its
great leaps and jumps.
With many rests and stops to eat berries or grass on their way, they
searched the bush for the rest of the day without finding the big bush
Wagtail. All kinds of creatures had seen him, or heard his strange
rattling, chattering song; but it always seemed that he had just flown
off a few minutes before they heard of him. It was most vexatious, and
Dot saw that another night must pass before they would be able to hear
of her home. She did not like to think of that, for she could picture
to herself all those great men, on their big rough horses, coming back
to her father's cottage that night, and how they would begin to be
quiet and sad.
She thought it would not be half so bad to be lost, if people at home
could only know that one was safe and snug in a kind Kangaroo's pouch;
but she knew that her parents could never suppose that she was so well
cared for, and would only think that she was dying alone in the
terrible bush--dying for want of food and water, and from fear and
exposure. How strange it seemed that people should die like that in
the bush, where so many creatures lived well, and happily! But then
they had not bush friends to tell them what berries and roots to eat,
and where to get water, and to cuddle them up in a nice warm fur during
the cold night. As she thought of this she rubbed her face against the
Kangaroo's soft coat, and patted her with her little hands; and the
affectionate animal was so pleased at these caresses, that she jumped
clean over a watercourse, twenty feet at least, in one bound.
It was getting evening time, and the sun was setting with a beautiful
rosy colour, as they came upon a lovely scene. They had followed the
watercourse until it widened out into a great shallow creek beside a
grassy plain. As they emerged from the last scattered bushes and trees
of the forest, and hopped out into the open side of a range of hills,
miles and miles of grass country, with dim distant hills, stretched
before them. The great shining surface of the creek caught the rosy
evening light, and every pink cloudlet in the sky looked doubly
beautiful reflected in the water. Here and there out of the water
arose giant skeleton trees, with huge silver trunks and contorted dead
branches. On these twisted limbs were numbers of birds; Shag, blue and
white Cranes, and black and white Ibis with their bent bills. Slowly
paddling on the creek, with graceful movements, were twenty or thirty
black Swans, and in and out of their ranks, as they passed in stately
procession, shot wild Ducks and Moor Hens, like a flotilla of little
boats amongst a fleet of big ships. All these birds were watching a
pretty sight that arrested Dot's attention at once. By the margin of
the creek, where tufted rushes and tall sedges shed their graceful
reflection on the pink waters, were a party of Native Companions
dancing.
"In these times it is seldom we can see a sight like this," said the
Kangaroo. "The water is generally too unsafe for the birds to enjoy
themselves. It often means death to them to have a little pleasure."
As the Kangaroo spoke, one of the Native Companions caught sight of
her, and leaving the dance, opened her wings, and still making dainty
steps with her long legs, half danced and half flew to where the
Kangaroo was sitting.
"Good evening, Kangaroo," she said, gracefully bowing; "will you not
come a little nearer to see the dance?" Then the Native Companion saw
Dot in the Kangaroo's pouch, and made a little spring of surprise.
"Dear me!" she said, "what have you in your pouch?"
"It's a Human," said the Kangaroo, apologetically; "it's quite a
little, harmless one. Let me introduce you."
So Dot alighted from the pouch, and joined in the conversation, and the
Native Companion was much interested in hearing her story.
"Do you dance?" asked the Native Companion, with a quick turn of her
head, on its long, graceful neck. Dot said that she loved dancing. So
the Native Companion took her down to the creek, and all the other
Companions stopped dancing and gathered round her, whilst she was
introduced, and her story told. Then they spread their wings, and with
stately steps escorted her to the edge of the water, whilst the
Kangaroo sat a little way off, and delightedly watched the proceedings.
Dot didn't understand any of the figures of the dance; but the scenery
and the pink sunset were so beautiful, and the Native Companions were
so elegant and gay, that Dot caught up her ragged little skirts in both
hands and followed their movements with her bare brown feet as best she
could, and enjoyed herself very much. To Dot, the eight birds that
took part in the entertainment were very tall and splendid, with their
lovely grey plumage and greeny heads, and she felt quite small as they
gathered round her sometimes, and enclosed her within their outspread
wings. And how beautiful their dancing was! How light their dainty
steps as their feet scarcely touched the earth; and what fantastic
measures they danced--advancing, retreating, circling round--with their
beautiful wings keeping the rhythm of their feet! There was one figure
that Dot thought the prettiest of all--when they danced in line at the
margin of the water; stepping, and bowing, and gracefully gyrating to
their shadows, which were reflected with the pink clouds of evening on
the surface of the creek.
Dot was very sorry, and hot, and breathless, when the dance came to an
end. The sun had been gone a long time, and all the pink shades had
slowly turned to grey; the creek had lost its radiant colour, and
looked like a silver mirror, and so desolate and sombre, that no one
could have imagined it to have been the scene of so much gaiety shortly
before.
Dot hastily returned to the Kangaroo, and all the Native Companions
came daintily, and made graceful adieus to them both. Afterwards, they
spread their great, soft wings, and, stretching their long legs behind
them, wheeled upwards to the darkening sky. Then all the birds in the
bare trees preened their feathers, and settled down for the night; and
the Kangaroo took her little Human charge back to the bush, where there
was a cosy sheltering rock, under which to pass the night. Here they
lay down together, with the stars peeping at them through the branches
of the trees.
They had slept for a long time, as it seemed to Dot, when they were
awakened by a little voice saying,
"Wake up, Kangaroo! You are in danger. Get away, as soon as possible!"
The moon was shining fitfully, as it broke through swift flying clouds.
In the uncertain light, Dot could see a little creature near them, and
knew at once that it was an Opossum.
"What is the matter?" said the Kangaroo, softly. "Blacks!" said the
Opossum. And as it spoke, Dot heard a sound as of a half dingo dog
howling and snapping in the distance. As that sound was heard, the
Opossum made one flying leap to the nearest tree, and scrambled out of
sight in a moment.
"I wish he had told us a little more," said the Kangaroo. "Still, for
a possum, it was a good-natured act to wake me up. They are selfish,
spiteful little beasts, as a rule. Now I wonder where these blacks
are? I shall have to go a little way to sniff and listen. I won't go
far, so don't be afraid, but stay quietly here until I come back."