Dot and the Kangaroo

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DOT AND THE KANGAROO

by Ethel C. Pedley

To the
children of Australia
in the hope of enlisting their sympathies
for the many
beautiful, amiable, and frolicsome creatures
of their fair land,
whose extinction, through ruthless destruction,
is being surely accomplished

CHAPTER I.

Little Dot had lost her way in the bush. She knew it, and was very
frightened. She was too frightened in fact to cry, but stood in the
middle of a little dry, bare space, looking around her at the scraggy
growths of prickly shrubs that had torn her little dress to rags,
scratched her bare legs and feet till they bled, and pricked her hands and
arms as she had pushed madly through the bushes, for hours, seeking her
home. Sometimes she looked up to the sky. But little of it could be seen
because of the great tall trees that seemed to her to be trying to reach
heaven with their far-off crooked branches. She could see little patches
of blue sky between the tangled tufts of her way in the and was very
drooping leaves, and, as the dazzling sunlight had faded, she began to
think it was getting late, and that very soon it would be night.

The thought of being lost and alone in the wild bush at night, took her
breath away with fear, and made her tired little legs tremble under her.
She gave up all hope of finding her home, and sat down at the foot of the
biggest blackbutt tree, with her face buried in her hands and knees, and
thought of all that had happened, and what might happen yet.

It seemed such a long, long time since her mother had told her that she
might gather some bush flowers while she cooked the dinner, and Dot
recollected how she was bid not to go out of sight of the cottage. How she
wished now she had remembered this sooner! But whilst she was picking the
pretty flowers, a hare suddenly started at her feet and sprang away into
the bush, and she had run after it. When she found that she could not
catch the hare, she discovered that she could no longer see the cottage.
After wandering for a while she got frightened and ran, and ran, little
knowing that she was going further away from her home at every step.

Where she was sitting under the blackbutt tree, she was miles away from her
father's selection, and it would be very difficult for anyone to find her.
She felt that she was a long way off, and she began to think of what was
happening at home. She remembered how, not very long ago, a neighbour's
little boy had been lost, and how his mother had come to their cottage for
help to find him, and that her father had ridden off on the big bay horse
to bring men from all the selections around to help in the search. She
remembered their coming back in the darkness; numbers of strange men she
had never seen before. Old men, young men, and boys, all on their
rough-coated horses, and how they came indoors, and what a noise they made
all talking together in their big deep voices. They looked terrible men,
so tall and brown and fierce, with their rough bristly beards; and they all
spoke in such funny tones to her, as if they were trying to make their
voices small.

During many days, these men came and went, and every time they were more
sad, and less noisy. The little boy's mother used to come and stay,
crying, whilst the men were searching the bush for her little son. Then,
one evening, Dot's father came home alone, and both her mother and the
little boy's mother went away in a great hurry. Then, very late, her
mother came back crying, and her father sat smoking by the fire looking
very sad, and she never saw that little boy again, although he had been
found.

She wondered now if all these rough, big men were riding into the bush to
find her, and if, after many days, they would find her, and no one ever see
her again. She seemed to see her mother crying, and her father very sad,
and all the men very solemn. These thoughts made her so miserable that she
began to cry herself.

Dot does not know how long she was sobbing in loneliness and fear, with her
head on her knees, and with her little hands covering her eyes so as not to
see the cruel wild bush in which she was lost. It seemed a long time
before she summoned up courage to uncover her weeping eyes, and look once
more at the bare, dry earth, and the wilderness of scrub and trees that
seemed to close her in as if she were in a prison. When she did look up,
she was surprised to see that she was no longer alone. She forgot all her
trouble and fear in her astonishment at seeing a big grey Kangaroo
squatting quite close to her, in front of her.

What was most surprising was the fact that the Kangaroo evidently
understood that Dot was in trouble, and was sorry for her; for down the
animal's nice soft grey muzzle two tiny little tears were slowly trickling.
When Dot looked up at it with wonder in her round blue eyes, the Kangaroo
did not jump away, but remained gazing sympathetically at Dot with a
slightly puzzled air. Suddenly the big animal seemed to have an idea, and
it lightly hopped off into the scrub, where Dot could just see it bobbing
up and down as if it were hunting for something. Presently back came the
strange Kangaroo with a spray of berries in her funny black hands. They
were pretty berries. Some were green, some were red, some blue, and
others white. Dot was quite glad to take them when the Kangaroo offered
them to her; and as this friendly animal seemed to wish her to eat them,
she did so gladly, because she was beginning to feel hungry.

After she had eaten a few berries a very strange thing happened. While Dot
had been alone in the bush it had all seemed so dreadfully still. There
had been no sound but the gentle stir of a light, fitful breeze in the
far-away tree-tops. All around had been so quiet, that her loneliness had
seemed twenty times more lonely. Now, however, under the influence of
these small, sweet berries, Dot was surprised to hear voices everywhere.
At first it seemed like hearing sounds in a dream, they were so faint and
distant, but soon the talking grew nearer and nearer, louder and clearer,
until the whole bush seemed filled with talking.

They were all little voices, some indeed quite tiny whispers and squeaks,
but they were very numerous, and seemed to be everywhere. They came from
the earth, from the bushes, from the trees, and from the very air. The
little girl looked round to see where they came from, but everything looked
just the same. Hundreds of ants, of all kinds and sizes, were hurrying to
their nests; a few lizards were scuttling about amongst the dry twigs and
sparse grasses; there were some grasshoppers, and in the trees birds
fluttered to and fro. Then Dot knew that she was hearing, and
understanding, everything that was being said by all the insects and
creatures in the bush.

All this time the Kangaroo had been speaking, only Dot had been too
surprised to listen. But now the gentle, soft voice of the kind animal
caught her attention, and she found the Kangaroo was in the middle of
a speech.

"I understood what was the matter with you at once," she was saying, "for
I feel just the same myself. I have been miserable, like you, ever since
I lost my baby Kangaroo. You also must have lost something. Tell me what
it is?"

"I've lost my way," said Dot; rather wondering if the Kangaroo would
nderstand her.

"Ah!" said the Kangaroo, quite delighted at her own cleverness, "I knew
you had lost something! Isn't it a dreadful feeling? You feel as if you
had no inside, don't you? And you're not inclined to eat anything--not
even the youngest grass. I have been like that ever since I lost my baby
Kangaroo. Now tell me," said the creature confidentially, "what your way
is like. I may be able to find it for you."

Dot found that she must explain what she meant by saying she had "lost
her way," and the Kangaroo was much interested.

"Well," said she, after listening to the little girl, "that is just like
you Humans; you are not fit for this country at all! Of course, if you
have only one home in one place, you must lose it! If you made your home
everywhere and anywhere, it would never be lost. Humans are no good in
our bush," she continued. "Just look at yourself now. How do you compare
with a Kangaroo? There is your ridiculous sham coat. Well, you have lost
bits of it all the way you have come to-day, and you're nearly left in
your bare skin. Now look at my coat. I've done ever so much more hopping
than you to-day, and you see I'm none the worse. I wonder why all your
fur grows upon the top of your head," she said reflectively, as she looked
curiously at Dot's long flaxen curls. "It's such a silly place to have
one's fur the thickest! You see, we have very little there; for we don't
want our heads made any hotter under the Australian sun. See how much
better off you would be, now that nearly all your sham coat is gone, if
that useless fur had been chopped into little, short lengths and spread
all over your poor bare body. I wonder why you Humans are made so badly,"
she ended, with a puzzled air.

Dot felt for a moment as if she ought to apologise for being so unfit for
the bush, and for having all the fur on the top of her head. But, somehow,
she had an idea that a little girl must be something better than a
kangaroo, although the Kangaroo certainly seemed a very superior person;
so she said nothing, but again began to eat the berries.

"You must not eat any more of these berries," said the Kangaroo, anxiously.

"Why?" asked Dot, "they are very nice, and I'm very hungry."

The Kangaroo gently took the spray out of Dot's hand, and threw it away.
"You see," she said, "if you eat too many of them, you'll know too much."

"One can't know too much," argued the little girl.

"Yes you can, though," said the Kangaroo, quickly. "If you eat too many
of those berries, you'll learn too much, and that gives you indigestion,
and then you become miserable. I don't want you to be miserable any more,
for I'm going to find your lost way."

The mention of finding her way reminded the little girl of her sad
position, which, in her wonder at talking with the Kangaroo, had been
quite forgotten for a little while. She became sad again; and seeing how
dim the light was getting, her thoughts went back to her parents. She
longed to be with them to be kissed and cuddled, and her blue eyes filled
with tears.

"Your eyes just now remind me of two fringed violets, with the morning dew
on them, or after a shower," said the Kangaroo. "Why are you crying?"

"I was thinking," said Dot.

"Oh! don't think!" pleaded the Kangaroo; "I never do myself."

"I can't help it!" explained the little girl. "What do you do instead?"
she asked.

"I always jump to conclusions," said the Kangaroo, and she promptly
bounded ten feet at one hop. Lightly springing back again to her position
in front of the child, she added, "and that's why I never have a headache."

"Dear Kangaroo," said Dot, "do you know where I can get some water? I'm
very thirsty!"

"Of course you are," said her friend; "everyone is at sundown. I'm
thirsty myself. But the nearest water-hole is a longish way off, so we
had better start at once."

Little Dot got up with an effort. After her long run and fatigue, she was
very stiff, and her little legs were so tired and weak, that after a few
steps she staggered and fell.

The Kangaroo looked at the child compassionately. "Poor little Human,"
she said, "your legs aren't much good, and, for the life of me, I don't
understand how you can expect to get along without a tail. The water-hole
is a good way off," she added, with a sigh, as she looked down at Dot,
lying on the ground, and she was very puzzled what to do. But suddenly
she brightened up. "I have an idea," she said joyfully. "Just step into
my pouch, and I'll hop you down to the water-hole in less time than it
takes a locust to shrill."

Timidly and carefully, Dot did the Kangaroo's bidding, and found herself
in the cosiest, softest little bag imaginable. The Kangaroo seemed
overjoyed when Dot was comfortably settled in her pouch. "I feel as if I
had my dear baby kangaroo again!" she exclaimed; and immediately she
bounded away through the tangled scrub, over stones and bushes, over dry
water-courses and great fallen trees. All Dot felt was a gentle rocking
motion, and a fresh breeze in her face, which made her so cheerful that
she sang this song:--

If you want to go quick,
I will tell you a trick
For the bush, where there isn't a train.
With a hulla-buloo,
Hail a big kangaroo--
But be sure that your weight she'll sustain--
Then with hop, and with skip,
She will take you a trip
With the speed of the very best steed;
And, this is a truth for which I can vouch,
There's no carriage can equal a kangaroo's pouch.
Oh! where is a friend so strong and true
As a dear big, bounding kangaroo?
"Good bye! Good bye!"
The lizards all cry,
Each drying its eyes with its tail.
"Adieu! Adieu!
Dear kangaroo!"
The scared little grasshoppers wail.
"They're going express
To a distant address,"
Says the bandicoot, ready to scoot;
And your path is well cleared for your progress, I vouch,
When you ride through the bush in a kangaroo's pouch.
Oh! where is a friend so strong and true
As a dear big, bounding kangaroo?
"Away and away!"
You will certainly say,
"To the end of the furthest blue--
To the verge of the sky,
And the far hills high,
O take me with thee, kangaroo!
We will seek for the end,
Where the broad plains tend,
E'en as far as the evening star.
Why, the end of the world we can reach, I vouch,
Dear kangaroo, with me in your pouch."
Oh! where is a friend so strong and true
As a dear big, bounding kangaroo?

CHAPTER II.

"That is a nice song of yours." said the Kangaroo, "and I like it very
much, but please stop singing now, as we are getting near the waterhole,
for it's not etiquette to make a noise near water at sundown."

Dot would have asked why everything must be so quiet; but as she peeped
out, she saw that the Kangaroo was making a very dangerous descent, and
she did not like to trouble her friend with questions just then. They
seemed to be going down to a great deep gully that looked almost like a
hole in the earth, the depth was so great, and the hills around came so
closely together. The way the Kangaroo was hopping was like going down
the side of a wall. Huge rocks were tumbled about here and there. Some
looked as if they would come rolling down upon them; and others appeared
as if a little jolt would send them crashing and tumbling into the
darkness below. Where the Kangaroo found room to land on its feet after
each bound puzzled Dot, for there seemed no foothold anywhere. It all
looked so dangerous to the little girl that she shut her eyes, so as not
to see the terrible places they bounded over, or rested on: she felt sure
that the Kangaroo must lose her balance, or hop just a little too far or a
little too near, and that they would fall together over the side of that
terrible wild cliff. At last she said:

"Oh, Kangaroo, shall we get safely to the bottom do you think?"

"I never think," said the Kangaroo, "but I know we shall. This is the
easiest way. If I went through the thick bush on the other side, I should
stand a chance of running my head against a tree at every leap, unless I
got a stiff neck with holding my head on one side looking out of one eye
all the time. My nose gets in the way when I look straight in front," she
explained. "Don't be afraid," she continued, "I know every jump of the
way. We kangaroos have gone this way ever since Australia began to have
kangaroos. Look here!" she said, pausing on a big boulder that hung right
over the gully, "we have made a history book for ourselves out of these
rocks; and so long as these rocks last, long long after the time when
there will be no more kangaroos, and no more humans, the sun, and the moon,
and the stars will look down upon what we have traced on these stones."

Dot peered out from her little refuge in the Kangaroo's pouch, and saw the
glow of the twilight sky reflected on the top of the boulder. The rough
surface of the stone shone with a beautiful polish like a looking glass,
for the rock had been rubbed for thousands of years by the soft feet and
tails of millions of Kangaroos: kangaroos that had hopped down that way
to get water. When Dot saw that, she didn't know why it all seemed solemn,
or why she felt such a very little girl. She was a little sad, and the
Kangaroo, after a short sigh, continued her way.

As they neared the bottom of the gully the Kangaroo became extremely
cautious. She no longer hopped in the open, but made her way with little
leaps through the thick scrub. She peeped out carefully before each
movement. Her long soft ears kept moving to catch every sound, and her
black sensitive little nose was constantly lifted, sniffing the air.
Every now and then she gave little backward starts, as if she were going
to retreat by the way she had come, and Dot, with her face pressed against
the Kangaroo's soft furry coat, could hear her heart beating so fast that
she knew she was very frightened.

They were not alone. Dot could hear whispers from unseen little creatures
everywhere in the scrub, and from birds in the trees. High up in the
branches were numbers of pigeons--sweet little Bronze-Wings; and above all
the other sounds she could hear their plaintive voices crying, "We're so
frightened! we're so frightened! so thirsty and so frightened! so thirsty
and so frightened!"

"Why don't they drink at the waterhole?" whispered Dot.

"Because they're frightened," was the answer.

"Frightened of what?" asked Dot.

"Humans!" said the Kangaroo, in frightened tones; and as she spoke she
reared up upon her long legs and tail, so that she stood at least six feet
high, and peeped over the bushes; her nose working all round, and her ears
wagging.

"I think it's safe," she said, as she squatted down again.

"Friend Kangaroo," said a Bronze-Wing that had sidled out to the end of a
neighbouring branch, "you are so courageous, will you go first to the
water, and let us know if it is all safe? We haven't tasted a drop of
water for two days," she said, sadly, "and we're dying of thirst. Last
night, when we had waited for hours, to make certain there were no cruel
Humans about, we flew down for a drink--and we wanted, oh! so little, just
three little sips; but the terrible Humans, with their 'bang-bangs,'
murdered numbers of us. Then we flew back, and some were hurt and
bleeding, and died of their wounds, and none of us have dared to get a
drink since." Dot could see that the poor pigeon was suffering great
thirst, for its wings were drooping, and its poor dry beak was open.

The Kangaroo was very distressed at hearing the pigeon's story. "It is
dreadful for you pigeons," she said, "because you can only drink at
evening; we sometimes can quench our thirst in the day. I wish we could
do without water! The Humans know all the water-holes, and sooner or
later we all get murdered, or die of thirst. How cruel they are!"

Still the pigeons cried on, "we're so thirsty and so frightened;" and the
Bronze-Wing asked the Kangaroo to try again, if she could either smell or
hear a Human near the water-hole.

"I think we are safe," said the Kangaroo, having sniffed and listened as
before; "I will now try a nearer view."

The news soon spread that the Kangaroo was going to venture near the
water, to see if all was safe. The light was very dim, and there was a
general whisper that the attempt to get a drink of water should not be
left later; as some feared such foes as dingos and night birds, should
they venture into the open space at night. As the Kangaroo moved
stealthily forward, pushing aside the branches of the scrub, or standing
erect to peep here and there, there was absolute silence in the 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. Hundreds 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 every thing, 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 ear-shot--'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 further off."

"Mo-poke! mo-poke!!" croaked the Nightjar, further and further in the
distance, as it flew away.

"What a pity!" said the Kangaroo, as she returned to the cave, "the
Possum made that unlucky joke of telling the Nightjar it has a touching
voice, and can sing: everyone has to suffer for that joke of the Possum's.
It doesn't matter to him, for he is awake all night, but it is too bad for
his neighbours who want to sleep."

Just then there arose from the bush a shrill walling and shrieking that
made Dot's heart stop with fear. It sounded terrible, as if something was
wailing in great pain and suffering.

"Oh Kangaroo!" she cried, "what is the matter?" "That," said the Kangaroo,
as she laid herself down to rest, "is the sound of the Curlew enjoying
itself. They are sociable birds, and entertain a great deal. There is a
party to-night, I suppose, and that is the expression of their enjoyment.
I believe," she continued, with a suppressed yawn, "it's not so painful as
it sounds. Willy Wagtail, who goes a great deal amongst Humans, says they
do that sort of thing also; he has often heard them when he lived near
the town."

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