oots, buds, and berries, which she ate with good
appetite.

The Kangaroo watched her eating with a look of quiet satisfaction.

"See," she said, "how easily one can live in the bush without hurting
anyone; and yet Humans live by murdering creatures and devouring them.
If they are lost in the scrub they die, because they know no other way
to live than that cruel one of destroying us all. Humans have become so
cruel, that they kill, and kill, not even for food, but for the love of
murdering. I often wonder," she said, "why they and the dingoes are
allowed to live on this beautiful kind earth. The Black Humans kill and
devour us; but they, even, are not so terrible as the Whites, who
delight in taking our lives, and torturing us just as an amusement.
Every creature in the bush weeps that they should have come to take the
beautiful bush away from us."

Dot saw that the sad brown eyes of the Kangaroo were full of tears, and
she cried too, as she thought of all that the poor animals and birds
suffer at the hands of white men. "Dear Kangaroo," she said, "if I ever
get home, I'll tell everyone of how you unhappy creatures live in fear,
and suffer, and ask them not to kill you poor things any more."

But the Kangaroo sadly shook her head, and said, "White Humans are
cruel, and love to murder. We must all die. But about your lost way,"
she continued in a brisk tone, by way of changing this painful subject;
"I've been asking about it, and no one has seen it anywhere. Of course
someone must know where it is, but the difficulty is to find the right
one to ask." Then she dropped her voice, and came a little nearer to
Dot, and stooping down until her little black hands hung close to the
ground, she whispered in Dot's ear, "They say I ought to consult the
Platypus."

"Could the Platypus help, do you think?" Dot asked.

"I _never_ think," said the Kangaroo, "but as the Platypus never goes
anywhere, never associates with any other creature, and is hardly ever
seen, I conclude it knows everything--it must, you know."

"Of course," said Dot, with some doubt in her tone.

"The only thing is," continued the Kangaroo, once more sitting up and
pensively scratching her nose. "The only thing is, I can't bear the
Platypus; the sight of it gives me the creeps: it's such a queer
creature!"

"I've never seen a Platypus," said Dot. "Do tell me what it is like!"

"I couldn't describe it," said the Kangaroo, with a shudder, "it seems
made u