ot would be afraid that she had lost
her Kangaroo, and would run here and there, hunting round trees, and
clusters of ferns, until she felt quite certain she had lost the kind
animal; when suddenly, clean over a big bush, the Kangaroo would bound
into view, landing right in front of her. Then Dot would laugh, and rush
forward, and throw her arms around her friend; and the Kangaroo, with a
quiet smile, would rub her little head against Dot's curls, and they
were both very happy. So, although it was a long and rough way to the
little creek where the Platypus lived, it did not seem at all far.

The stream ran at the bottom of a deep gully, that had high rocky sides,
with strangely shaped trees growing between the rocks. But, by the
stream, Dot thought they must be in fairyland; it was so beautiful. In
the dark hollows of the rocks were wonderful ferns; such delicate ones
that the little girl was afraid to touch them. They were so tender and
green that they could only grow far away from the sun, and as she peeped
into the hollows and caves where they grew, it seemed as if she was
being shown the secret store-house of Nature, where she kept all the
most lovely plants, out of sight of the world. A soft carpet seemed to
spring under Dot's feet, like a nice springy mattress, as she trotted
along. She asked the Kangaroo why the earth was so soft, and was told
that it was not earth, but the dead leaves of the tree-ferns above them,
that had been falling for such a long, long time, that no kangaroo could
remember the beginning.

Then Dot looked up, and saw that there was no sky to be seen; for they
were passing under a forest of tree-ferns, and their lovely spreading
fronds made a perfect green tent over their heads. The sunlight that
came through was green, as if you were in a house made of green glass.
All up the slender stems of these tall tree-ferns were the most
beautiful little plants, and many stems were twined, from the earth to
their feather-like fronds, with tender creeping ferns--the fronds of
which were so fine and close, that it seemed as if the tree-fern were
wrapped up in a lovely little fern coat. Even crumbling dead trees, and
decaying tree-ferns, did not look dead, because some beautiful moss, or
lichen, or little ferns had clung to them, and made them more beautiful
than when alive.

Dot kept crying out with pleasure at all she saw; especially when little
Parrakeets, with feathers as green as the ferns, and go