unding 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-nigh