“Hurrah! Let’s gallop,” cried Rifle.
“No, no. Keep back. He’s stalking something that he sees yonder. There: he has gone out of sight. I daresay it’s only one of those horrible snakes. What taste it is, eating snake!”
“No more than eating eels,” said Rifle, drily. “They’re only water-snakes. I say, though, come on.”
“And don’t talk about eating, please,” cried Tim, plaintively; “it does make me feel so hungry.”
“As if you could eat carpet-snake, eh?”
“Ugh!”
“Or kangaroo?” cried Rifle, excitedly, as they reached the top of one of the billowy waves of land which swept across the great plain. “Look, Shanter sees kangaroo. There they go. No, they’re stopping. Hurrah! kangaroo tail for supper. Get ready for a shot.”
As he spoke he unslung his gun, and they cantered forward, closely followed by the packhorse, knowing that the curious creatures would see them, however carefully they approached, and go off in a series of wonderful leaps over bush and stone.
As they cantered on, they caught sight of Shanter going through some peculiar manoeuvre which they could not quite make out. But as they came nearer they saw him hurl either his boomerang or nulla-nulla, and a small kangaroo fell over, kicking, on its side.
“Shan’t starve to-night, boys,” cried Tim, who was in advance; and in another minute, with the herd of kangaroos going at full speed over the bushes, they were close up, but drew rein in astonishment at that which followed.