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.

[Illustration: DOT'S FATHER ABOUT TO SHOOT THE KANGAROO]

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 d