"I went with the whole turnout to see the search. Goodness! the distances they went, and the noise and the big fires they made, it was exciting fun! They brought over some black Humans—'Trackers' is what they are called, at least the Mounted Troopers' horses told me so (my word! the Troopers' horses are jolly fellows!) Well, these black trackers went in front of each party just like dogs, with their heads to the ground, and they turned over every leaf and twig, and said if a Human, a horse or a kangaroo had broken it or been that way. They found your track fast enough, but one evening it came to an end quite suddenly, and weren't they all surprised! I heard from a Trooper's horse—(such a nice horse he was!)—that the trackers and white Humans said it was just as if you had disappeared into the sky! There was just a bit of your fur on a bush, and nothing anywhere else but a Kangaroo's trail. No one could make it out."

"That was when I took you in my pouch!" exclaimed the Kangaroo.

"Now," said the Wagtail, "most of them have given up the search. Just this evening Dot's father and a few other Humans came back, and the yellow sheep dog told me the last big party is to start at noon to-morrow, and after that there will be no more attempt to find Dot. Only the sheep dog said he heard his master say he would go on hunting alone, until he found her body. I haven't been over there to-day," wound up the bird, "they are all so miserable and tired, it gave me the blues yesterday."

"What are we to do? It is quite dark and late!" asked the Kangaroo.

"You had better stay here," counselled the Wagtail. "One night more or less doesn't matter, and I don't like leaving Chip-pi-ti-chip at night-time. She likes me to sing to her all night, because she is nervous. I will go with you to-morrow morning early, if you will wait here until then."

"Having found your lost way so far!" said the Kangaroo to Dot, "it would be a pity to risk losing it again, so we had better wait for Willy Wagtail to guide us to-morrow."

To tell the truth, the Kangaroo was very glad of the excuse to keep Dot one night more before parting from her. "It will seem like losing my little Joey again, when I am once more alone," she said sadly.

"But you will never go far away," said Dot. "I should cry, if I thought you would never come to see me. You will live on our selection, won't you?"

But the Kangaroo looked very doubtful, and said that she loved Dot, but she was afraid of Humans and their dogs.



After a supper of berries and grass, Dot and the Kangaroo lay down for the night in a little bower of bushes. But they talked until very late, of how they were to manage to reach Dot's home without danger from guns and dogs. At last, when they tried to sleep, they could not do so on account of Willy Wagtail's singing to his sweetheart, "Sweet pretty creature! Sweet pretty creature!" without stopping, for more than five minutes at a time.

"I wonder Chip-pi-ti-chip doesn't get tired of that song," said Dot.

"She never does," yawned the Kangaroo, "and he never tires of singing it."

"Sweet pretty creature," sang Willy Wagtail.



CHAPTER XIII

Two men were walking near a cottage in the winter sunlight of the early morning. There came to the door a young woman, who looked pale and tired. She carried a bowl of milk to a little calf, and on her way back to the cottage she paused, and shading her eyes, that were red with weeping, lingered awhile, looking far and near. Then, with a sigh, she returned indoors and worked restlessly at her household duties.

"It breaks my heart to see my wife do that," said the taller man, who carried a gun. "All day long she comes out and looks for the child. One knows, now, that the poor little one can never come back to us," and as the big man spoke there was a queer choking in his voice.

The younger man did not speak, but he patted his friend's shoulder in a kindly manner, which showed that he too was very sorry.

"Even you have lost heart, Jack," said the big bushman, "but we shall find her yet; the wife shall have that comfort."

"You'll never do it now," said the young fellow with a mournful shake of the head. "There is not an inch of ground that so young a child could reach that we have not searched. The mystery is, what could have become of her?"

"That's what beats me," said the tall man, who was Dot's father. "I think of it all day and all night. There is the track of the dear little mite as clear as possible for five miles, as far as the dry creek. The trackers say she rested her poor weary legs by sitting under the blackbutt tree. At that point she vanishes completely. The blacks say there isn't a trace of man, or beast, beyond that place excepting the trail of a big kangaroo. As you say, it's a mystery!"

As the men walked towards the bush, close to the place where Dot had run after the hare the day she was lost, neither of them noticed the fuss and scolding made by a Willy Wagtail; although the little bird seemed likely to die of excitement.

Willy Wagtail was really saying, "Dot and her Kangaroo are coming this way. Whatever you do, don't shoot them with that gun."

Presently the young man, Jack, noticed the little bird. "What friendly little chaps those wagtails are," he said, "and see how tame and fearless this one is. Upon my word, he nearly flew in your face that time!"



Dot's father did not notice the remark, for he had stopped suddenly, and was peering into the bush whilst he quietly shifted his gun into position, ready to raise it and fire.

"By Jove!" he said, "I saw the head of a Kangaroo a moment ago behind that iron-bark. Fancy it's coming so near the house. Next time it shows, I'll get a shot at it."

Both men waited for the moment when the Kangaroo should be seen again.

The next instant the Kangaroo bounded out of the Bush into the open paddock. Swift as lightning up went the cruel gun, but, as it exploded with a terrible report, the man, Jack, struck it upwards, and the fatal bullet lodged in the branch of a tall gum tree.

"Great Scott!" exclaimed Jack, pointing at the Kangaroo.

"Dot!" cried her father, dropping his gun, and stumbling blindly forward with outstretched arms, towards his little girl, who had just tumbled out of the Kangaroo's pouch in her hurry to reach her father.

"Hoo! hoo! ho! ho! he! he! ha! ha! ha! ha!" laughed a Kookooburra on a tree, as he saw Dot clasped in her father's great strong arms, and the little face hidden in his big brown beard.

"Wife! wife!" shouted Dot's father, "Dot's come back! Dot's come back!"

"Dot's here!" yelled the young man, as he ran like mad to the house. And all the time the good Kangaroo sat up on her haunches, still panting with fear from the sound of the gun, and a little afraid to stay, yet so interested in all the excitement and delight, that she couldn't make up her mind to hop away.

"Dadda," said Dot, "You nearly killed Dot and her Kangaroo! Oh! if you'd killed my Kangaroo, I'd never have been happy any more!"

"But I don't understand," said her father. "How did you come to be in the Kangaroo's pouch?"

"Oh! I've got lots and lots to tell you!" said Dot; "but come and stroke dear Kangaroo, who saved little Dot and brought her home."

"That I will!" said Dot's father, "and never more will I hurt a Kangaroo!"

"Nor any of the Bush creatures," said Dot. "Promise, Dadda!"

"I promise," said the big man, in a queer-sounding voice, as he kissed Dot over and over again, and walked towards the frightened animal.

Dot wriggled down from her father's arms, and said to the Kangaroo, "It's all right; no one's ever going to be shot or hurt here again!" and the Kangaroo looked delighted at the good news.

"Dadda," said Dot, holding her father's hand, and, with her disengaged hand touching the Kangaroo's little paw. "This is my own dear Kangaroo." Dot's father, not knowing quite how to show his gratitude, stroked the Kangaroo's head, and said "How do you do?" which, when he came to think of it afterwards, seemed rather a foolish thing to say. But he wasn't used, like Dot, to talking to Bush creatures, and had not eaten the berries of understanding.

The Kangaroo saw that Dot's father was grateful, and so she was pleased, but she did not like to be stroked by a man who let off guns, so she was glad that Dot's mother had run to where they were standing, and was hugging and kissing the little girl, and crying all the time; for then Dot's father turned and watched his wife and child, and kept doing something to his eyes with a handkerchief, so that there was no attention to spare for Kangaroos.

The good Kangaroo, seeing how happy these people were, and knowing that her life was quite safe, wanted to peep about Dot's home and see what it was like—for kangaroos can't help being curious. So presently she quietly hopped off towards the cottage, and then a very strange thing happened. Just as the Kangaroo was wondering what the great iron tank by the kitchen door was meant for, there popped out of the open door a joey Kangaroo. Now, to human beings, all joey Kangaroos look alike, but amongst Kangaroos there are no two the same, and Dot's Kangaroo at once recognised in the little Joey her own baby Kangaroo. The Joey knew its mother directly, and, whilst Dot's Kangaroo was too astonished to move, and not being able to think, was trying to get at a conclusion why her Joey was coming out of a cottage, the little Kangaroo, with a hop-skip-and-a-jump, had landed itself comfortably in the nice pouch Dot had just vacated.

Then Dot's mother, rejoicing over the safe return of her little girl, was not more happy than the Kangaroo with her Joey once more in her pouch. With big bounds she leapt towards Dot, and the little girl suddenly looking round for her Kangaroo friend, clapped her hands with delight as she saw a little grey nose, a pair of tiny black paws, and the point of a little black tail, hanging out of the pouch that had carried her so often.

"Why!" exclaimed Dot's mother, "if she hasn't got the little Joey, Jack brought me yesterday! He picked it up after a Kangaroo hunt some time ago."

"It's her Joey; her lost Joey!" cried Dot, running to the Kangaroo. "Oh! dear Kangaroo, I am so glad!" she said, "for now we are all happy; as happy as can be!" Dot hugged her Kangaroo, and kissed the little Joey, and they all three talked together, so that none of them understood what the others were saying, only that they were all much pleased and delighted.

"Wife," said Dot's father, "I'll tell you what's mighty queer, our little girl is talking away to those animals, and they're all understanding one another, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to treat Kangaroos as if they were human beings!"

"I expect," said his wife, "that their feelings are not much different from ours. See how that poor animal is rejoicing in getting back its little one, just as we are over having our little Dot again."

"To think of all the poor things I have killed," said Dot's father sadly; "I'll never do it again."

"No," said his wife, "we must try and get everyone to be kind to the bush creatures, and protect them all we can."

This book would never come to an end if it told all that passed that day. How Dot explained the wonderful power of the berries of understanding, and how she told the kangaroos all that her parents wanted her to say on their behalf, and what kind things the Kangaroo said in return.

All day long the Kangaroo stayed near Dot's home, and the little girl persuaded her to eat bread, which she said was "most delicious, but one would get tired of it sooner than of grass."

Every effort was made by Dot and her parents to get the Kangaroo to live on their selection, so that they might protect her from harm. But she said that she liked her own free life best, only she would never go far away and would come often to see Dot. At sunset she said good-bye to Dot, a little sadly, and the child stood in the rosy light of the afterglow, waving her hand, as she saw her kind animal friend hop away and disappear into the dark shadow of the Bush.

She wandered about for some time listening to the voices of birds and creatures, who came to tell her how glad everyone was that her way had been found, and that no harm was to befall them in future. The news of her safe return, and of the Kangaroo's finding her Joey, had been spread far and near, by Willy Wagtail and the Kookooburra; and she could hear the shouts of laughter from kookooburras telling the story until nearly dark.

Quite late at night she was visited by the Opossum, the Native Bear, and the Nightjar, who entered by the open window, and, sitting in the moonlight, conversed about the day's events. They said that their whole rest and sleep had been disturbed by the noise and excitement of the day creatures spreading the news through the Bush. The Mo-poke wished to sing a sad song because Dot was feeling happy, but the Opossum warned it that it was sitting in a draught on the window sill and might spoil its beautiful voice, so it flew away and only sang in the distance. The Native Bear said that the story of Dot's return and the finding of Kangaroo's Joey was so strange that it made its head feel quite empty. The Opossum inspected everything in Dot's room, and tried to fight itself in the looking-glass. It then got the Koala to look into the mirror also, and said it would get an idea into its little empty head if it did. When the Koala had taken a timid peep at itself, the Opossum said that the Koala now had an idea of how stupid it looked, and the little bear went off to get used to having an idea in its head. The Opossum was so pleased with its spiteful joke that it hastily said good night, and hurried away to tell it to the other 'possums.

Gradually the voices of the creatures outside became more and more faint and indistinct; and then Dot slept in the grey light of the dawn.

When she went out in the morning, the kookooburras were gurgling and laughing, the magpies were warbling, the parrakeets made their twittering, and Willy Wagtail was most lively; but Dot was astonished to find that she could not understand what any of the creatures said, although they were all very friendly towards her. When the Kangaroo came to see her she made signs that she wanted some berries of understanding, but, strange as it may seem, the Kangaroo pretended not to understand. Dot has often wondered why the Kangaroo would not understand, but, remembering what that considerate animal had said when she first gave her the berries, she is inclined to think that the Kangaroo is afraid of her learning too much, and thereby getting indigestion. Dot and her parents have often sought for the berries, but up to now they have failed to find them. There is something very mysterious about those berries!

During that day every creature Dot had known in the Bush came to see her, for they all knew that their lives were safe now, so they were not afraid. It greatly surprised Dot's parents to see such numbers of birds and animals coming around their little girl, and they thought it very pretty when in the evening a flock of Native Companions settled down, and danced their graceful dance with the little girl joining in the game.

"It seems to me, wife," said Dot's father with a glad laugh, "that the place has become a regular menagerie!"



Later on, Dot's father made a dam on a hollow piece of ground near the house, which soon became full of water, and is surrounded by beautiful willow trees. There all the thirsty creatures come to drink in safety. And very pretty it is, to sit on the verandah of that happy home, and see Dot playing near the water surrounded by her Bush friends, who come and go as they please, and play with the little girl beside the pretty lake. And no one in all the Gabblebabble district hurts a bush creature, because they are all called "Dot's friends."

* * * * *



FINALE.

Before putting away the pen and closing the inkstand, now that Dot has said all she wishes to be recorded of her bewildering adventures, the writer would like to warn little people, that the best thing to do when one is lost in the bush, is to sit still in one place, and not to try to find one's way home at all. If Dot had done this, and had not gone off in the Kangaroo's pouch, she would have been found almost directly. As the more one tries to find one's way home, the more one gets lost, and as helpful Kangaroos like Dot's are very scarce, the best way to get found quickly, is to wait in one place until the search parties find one. Don't forget this advice! And don't eat any strange berries in the bush, unless a Kangaroo brings them to you.

* * * * *



W. C. Penfold & Co. Ltd., Printers, Sydney, Australia



* * * * *



* * * * *



Australian Publications.

POEMS OF HENRY KENDALL. Enlarged edition, with biographic note by BERTRAM STEVENS, and portraits, 7s, 6d.

CASTLE VANE: An Australian Historical Novel. By J. H. M. ABBOTT. 5s.

POEMS BY RODERIC QUINN. With portrait, 5s.

AMERICAN IMPRESSIONS. By HON. H. Y. BRADDON, ex-Commissioner for the Commonwealth. 5s.

JIM OF THE HILLS. A Story in Rhyme. By C. J. DENNIS, With frontispiece, title-page, and jacket in colour, by HAL GYE. 7-1/2 x 6 inches, 5s.

DIGGER SMITH: POEMS. By C. J. DENNIS. With frontispiece, title page and jacket in colour, and other illustrations, by HAL GYE. 7-1/2 x 6 inches, 5s.

THE SONGS OF A SENTIMENTAL BLOKE. By C. J. DENNIS. With frontispiece, title-page and jacket in colour and other illustrations by HAL GYE, 7-1/2 x 6 inches, 5s. Pocket Edition, 4s.

DOREEN: A Sequel to "The Sentimental Bloke." By C. J. DENNIS. With coloured and other illustrations, 7-1/4 x 5-1/4 inches, 1s.

THE MOODS OF GINGER MICK: Poems. By C.J. DENNIS, With frontispiece, title-page and jacket in colour, and other illustrations by HAL GYE, 7-1/2 x 6 inches, 5s. Pocket Edition, 4s.

BACKBLOCK BALLADS AND LATER VERSES. By C. J. DENNIS, author of "The Sentimental Bloke," etc. New edition, revised, with 16 new pieces, wholly printed from new type, with frontispiece, title-page and jacket in colour, by HAL GYE. 7-1/2 x 6 inches. 5s.

THE GLUGS OF GOSH: Poems. By C. J. DENNIS. With frontispiece, title-page, and jacket in colour, and other illustrations by HAL GYE, 7-1/2 x 6 inches, 5s. Pocket Edition, 4s.

BUSHLAND STORIES (For Children). By AMY ELEANOR MACK. With coloured illustrations. 4s. 6d.

SCRIBBLING SUE, and Other Stories for Children. By AMY ELEANOR MACK. With coloured illustrations, 4s. 6d.

GEM OF THE FLAT. A Story of Young Australians. By CONSTANCE MACKNESS. With coloured and other illustrations, 4s. 6d.

CHRISTOPHER COCKLE'S AUSTRALIAN EXPERIENCES. By J. R. HOULDING ("Old Boomerang"). 465 pages, 3s. 6d.

TALES OF SNUGGLEPOT AND CUDDLEPIE. By MAY GIBBS. With frontispiece in colour, 22 full-page and many other illustrations. 10 x 7-1/2 inches, 6s.

LITTLE RAGGED BLOSSOM, and more about Snugglepot and Cuddlepie. By MAY GIBBS. With 21 full-page plates (2 in colour) and many other illustrations. 10 x 7-1/2 inches, 6s.

BORONIA BABIES. By MAY GIBBS. With 2 coloured and 12 other pictures, 8-3/4 x 5-3/4 inches. 1s. 6d.

WATTLE BABIES. By MAY GIBBS. With 2 coloured and 12 other pictures, 8-3/4 x 5-3/4 inches, 1s. 6d.

GUM-BLOSSOM BABIES. By MAY GIBBS With 2 coloured and 12 other pictures, 8-3/4 x 5-3/4 inches, 1s. 6d.

GUM-NUT BABIES. By MAY GIBBS. With 2 coloured and 12 other pictures, 8-3/4 x 5-3/4 inches, 1s. 6d.

DOT AND THE KANGAROO. By ETHEL C. PEDLEY. With 19 full-page illustrations (1 in colour) by F. P. MAHONY. New edition, 10 x 7-1/2 inches, 6s.

ANGUS & ROBERTSON, LTD., Publishers, Sydney

And at all Booksellers

* * * * *

THE END