"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."
