ott!" 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 do