My husband and I were staying at a country house sixteen miles from
Champion Bay, quite in the "bush," and miles away from any one. Our host
was an influential person, and the owner of one of the largest stock
farms on the great continent of Australia.
Everything was arranged for the hunt the day before, Mr. B---- having
selected and had brought in from the bush those horses which he thought
most suitable. The luncheon was all packed up overnight, and sent to the
hunting ground at four o'clock in the morning, accompanied by a barrel
of water, a luxury unattainable in the country we were bound for.
When we rose in the morning we saw from our windows some of the
gentlemen already starting, and about an hour afterward the carriage
which was to convey our party of five to the meet was brought round to
the door.
After we had driven about nine miles we came to a hollow, where we found
our horses waiting. Mine was a very neat gray, full of spirit, but very
good-tempered, while my husband's mount was a pretty bay mare, very
fast, which pulled considerably. We set off, each of us armed with
boomerangs, or heavy curved sticks from eighteen inches to two feet in
length. Our horses were excited, but we had to ride along as quietly as
possible, for fear we should start a kangaroo and let it get away too
far ahead.
We had not long to wait before a beautiful "flying doe" got up about
three-quarters of a mile in front of us, when every one let his horse go
as hard as he could, until the pace became tremendous, the horses having
to jump all the bushes they came to.
After we had galloped for several miles, the country became rough and
thickly grown with black-boys--a species of palm-tree, so called from
its black stem. Unfortunately, my husband, in avoiding a collision with
a lady, managed to come up against one of them, and it being strong, did
not give with the weight of the horse, and knocked him out of the
saddle. For a moment I was rather frightened, but as he called to me
that he was all right, and told me to go on, I did so. He soon got his
horse back, and came after us as quickly as possible.
Of course this little episode rather threw me out of the hunt, and in
the distance I saw Miss L---- going a good pace with the kangaroo close
ahead of her. She rode very well, and never once left it. After a while
I found myself pretty close to it, and by this time our horses were
getting a little bit used up. It seemed a long time before the kangaroo
was knocked over. As soon as one of us got alongside of it, it doubled,
and then the work of getting sufficiently near to upset it had to begin
again. The pace they go is almost incredible, especially that of a
"flying doe," and before one is accustomed to it their hopping has a
peculiar effect. Each spring they give, their tails beat the ground as
if worked by machinery. Mr. B---- eventually knocked over the "flying
doe" at Miss L----'s request, she being uncertain how it ought to be
done. I am glad to say it was not killed, but "ear-marked," and let go.
We gave our horses a little rest, and then started off again. Luckily
the day was cloudy, or the heat on the sand plains would have been
unbearable. This time again we were most fortunate, and soon saw a very
big kangaroo going away ahead of us. After a short time we came to a bit
of thick bush which the kangaroo made for. If not excited, one would
think twice about going straight into it. However, I saw two bush-riders
go at it, so thought I would try too, much to their amusement, and I was
rewarded. Just in the middle the kangaroo doubled, and being then quite
close to him, I had all the fun to myself, and Bismarck--my
horse--entered into it perfectly.
Crash we went through the bush regardless of the possibility of eyes
being poked out by boughs, and our faces being scratched all over. In
fact, I found the only thing to do was to sit tight, keep my head down,
and let the horse go. He followed the kangaroo until we found ourselves
in the open again. Then we came alongside of him in a canter, as he was
getting tired, so I got Bismarck very close, and knocked him down. I
then thought he would give us no more trouble, but much to my surprise,
when pulling up the horse, I saw him get up and begin to go off. I was
determined he should not get away, so our chase began again. We soon
were together, and I made Bismarck keep a little bit ahead of him,
waiting for our opportunity to upset him. He was actually hopping along
under my feet, and I knocked his head with my foot. He tore my habit by
putting one of his paws through it, and scratched one of Bismarck's
fore-legs in trying to cross him. This he was not quick enough in doing,
and was soon down on the ground. The actual run was, I believe, only two
miles. The kangaroo was afterward killed, and his paws cut off for me as
a remembrance of my first hunt, but in drying they were spoiled, and I
never got them. His tail was taken home to be made into soup, which is
most excellent.
After luncheon the gentlemen went off to find another kangaroo if
possible. They were all on foot, except my husband and Mr. B----'s
nephew. However, they soon found a fine one, and four of them carried it
in to us alive. They tied a rope round it, and fastened it to a tree. At
first the animal tried hard to get away, but finding it useless,
remained very still. We had a few dogs out with us, but they are not
required if there are a good many people mounted. Of course, to any one
hunting by himself, they would be a necessity. Just before our start
homeward it was proposed to let the kangaroo go, and with some
difficulty they managed to untie the rope. The kangaroo being at bay, it
stood upon its hind-legs, with its back to a tree, and kept striking out
with its paws. It really was a piteous sight, standing there with its
big brown eyes, and it did not seem to realize it was free, although the
dogs barked and people shouted to make it move.
At last it went off, and I longed for it to get away; but before going
any distance it stood up again, with the dogs round it, and the poor
brave kangaroo was soon dragged by them to the ground. It seemed quite a
melancholy ending to our day.
[Illustration: "JUST ONE LOCK OF HAIR."]