MATED

Finn knew the life of his own range pretty well, and was more
familiar with the life of the wild generally than any other hound
of his race has been for very many generations. Yet, when he
contentedly took up the back-blocks trail with Warrigal, after
their supper together upon the bandicoot he had slain, Finn was
absolutely and entirely ignorant of the life of the world in which
the handsome dingo had spent her days and attained her high
position as the acknowledged belle and beauty of her range. One
hour afterwards, however, he knew quite a good deal about it.

Possibly from a sense of gallantry, or it may have been because the
trail was a new one to him, Finn trotted slightly behind his mate,
his muzzle about level with her flank. His great bulk was less
noticeable now in relation to the size of his companion, partly by
reason of the coquettish pride which puffed out Warrigal's fine
coat and the lofty way in which she pranced along, and partly
because Finn had now adopted his usual trailing deportment and
exaggerated it a little, owing to his being on a strange trail. He
went warily, with hind-quarters carried well under him ready for
springing, and that suggestion of tenseness about his whole body
which made it actually, as well as apparently, lower to the ground
than when he stood erect. As for Warrigal, she trod a home trail,
and one in which she was accustomed to meet with deferential
treatment from all and sundry. The law of her race prevented a male
dingo from attacking her, and no female in that countryside would
have cared to face Warrigal in single combat.

The country grew wilder and more rugged as the newly-mated pair
advanced, and as they drew near the foot-hills surrounding Mount
Desolation, the bush thinned out, and the ground became stony, with
here and there big lichen-covered boulders standing alone, like
huge bowls upon a giants' green. Then came a patch of thin,
starveling-looking trees, mere bones of trees, half of whose skin
was missing. Suddenly Warrigal gave a hard, long sniff, and then a
growl of warning to Finn. She would have barked if she had known
how, but her race do not bark, though they can growl and snarl with
the best, and, besides, have a peculiar cry of their own which is
not easy to describe other than as something midway between a howl
and a roar. Finn recognized the growl as warning clearly enough,
and all his muscles were gathered together for action on the
insta