some minutes without moving. By that time the melancholy of it all
had entered fairly into his soul, and he, too, lifted up his head
and delivered himself of the Irish Wolfhound howl, which carries
farther than the dingo howl, and is more purely mournful than any
other canine cry. Also, it has more volume than any other; there is
something uncanny and supernatural about its piercing melancholy.
So the sire and the dam sat and howled at the stars in their
unclouded courses. And if you were to visit that den to-day, on the
first south-eastern spur of Mount Desolation, you would probably
find the skeletons of three of Finn's and Warrigal's children; for
the Wolfhound and his mate never entered their old home again.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXX

THE EXODUS

It was rather an odd thing, this fact that neither Finn or his mate
ever again entered the lair which had been such a happy home for
them since the day of their first meeting. But so it was, and one
is bound to assume, I think, that the reason of it was grief for
the loss of their children. In the early dawning of a blistering
hot day they paced slowly down the hill and into the rocky strip of
scrub which divided Mount Desolation from the bush itself.
Hereabouts it was that the rest of the pack lived; and, though Finn
and Warrigal conveyed no definite news of what had happened during
the night, the news must have spread somehow, because before the
sun had properly risen every single member of the pack had climbed
the spur and investigated for himself or herself the scattered
carrion which had been Tasman. Whether they looked into the den or
not, as well, I do not know; but I should say that some of the
adventurous youngsters did, while their elders and parents probably
refrained.

These same elders and parents were beginning to feel considerable
distress over the absence of rain, the scarcity of water, and the
poor results which attended their hunting. The wild folk of the
Australian bush are, upon the whole, less dependent upon water than
the animals of most countries, and such people as Koala, the native
bear, seem to get along quite happily without ever drinking
anything at all. Even kangaroos and wallabies can go for a long
while without drinking, but there is a limit to the endurance of
most of the bush animals in the matter of thirst, while, as for the
dingoes, they want their water every day as much as they need their
food. There was no longer any