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Updated: May 19, 2025
When a dog approaches it is seized in the kangaroo's forearms and held under water or torn to pieces. Occasionally men's lives have been lost through approaching incautiously an old man kangaroo. The kangaroo's method of self-defence has been turned to amusing account by circus-proprietors. The "boxing kangaroo" was at one time quite a common feature at circuses and music-halls.
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.
Then, in the hollows of her little hands, she collected it, and dashed it over the Kangaroo's parched tongue, and, further instructed by the kindly though rude little bird, she had soon well wetted the suffering animal's fur.
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.
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.
They found your track fast enough, but one evening it came to an end quite suddenly, and weren't they all surprised! 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.
I suggested an outhouse, and we conducted the creature thither in procession, hearing by the way that the kangaroo's mother had been shot, and that the animal itself, then very young, and no bigger than a cat, had taken Harold's open shirt front for her pouch and leaped into his bosom, and that it had been brought up to its present stature tame at Boola Boola.
"Friend Kangaroo's in a bad way," it said; "why don't you do something, sensible, instead of messing about with its head?" "What can I do?" whimpered Dot. "Give it water, and damp its skin, of course," said the little Bird, contemptuously. "What fools Humans are," it exclaimed to itself. "And I suppose you will tell me there is no water here, when all the time you are sitting on a spring."
One of the Blackfellows had come from a little bower of trees, and wore a few skins so arranged as to make him look as much like a kangaroo as possible, whilst he worked a stick which he pretended was a kangaroo's tail, and hopped about.
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.
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