Of all the sports of the day the most interesting was unquestionably a kangaroo hunt. About four o'clock the dogs started a troop of these curious animals. The little ones took refuge in their mothers' pouches, and the whole drove rushed away in single file. Nothing can be more astonishing than the enormous bounds of the kangaroo, whose hind legs are twice as long as its fore ones, and bend like a spring. At the head of the drove was a male five feet high,—"an old man," in the language of the bushmen.
For four or five miles the chase was briskly continued. The kangaroos did not slacken their pace; and the dogs, who feared, with good reason, the powerful blows of their formidable paws, did not venture to approach them. But at last the drove stopped in exhaustion, and "the old man" braced himself against the trunk of a tree, ready to fight for his life. One of the pointers, carried on by the impetus of his course, rolled within reach of him. A moment after, the unfortunate dog was tossed into the air, and fell back lifeless. The entire pack, deterred by the fate of their comrade, kept at a respectful distance. It became necessary to dispatch the kangaroo with the rifle, and nothing but bullets could bring down the gigantic quadruped.
At this juncture Robert narrowly escaped being the victim of his rashness. In order to make sure of his aim, he approached so near the kangaroo that the animal made a spring at him. Robert fell. A cry of alarm resounded. Mary Grant, speechless with apprehension, stretched her hands towards her brother. No one dared to fire, for fear of hitting the boy.
Suddenly Captain Mangles, with his hunting-knife open, rushed upon the kangaroo, at the risk of his life, and stabbed it to the heart. The beast fell dead, and Robert rose unharmed. An instant after, he was in the arms of his sister.
"Thanks, Captain Mangles! thanks!" said Mary, extending her hand to the young captain.
"I promised to take care of him," replied the captain, as he took the trembling hand of the young girl.
This adventure ended the hunt. The troop of kangaroos had scattered after the death of their leader, whose carcass was brought to the house.
It was now six o'clock, and dinner was in readiness for the hunters; comprising, among other dishes, a soup of kangaroo's tail, prepared in the native style.
After a dessert of ices and sherbet, the party repaired to the parlor, where the evening was devoted to music. Lady Helena, who was a good pianiste, presided at the instrument, while Michael and Alexander Patterson sang with great taste selections from the latest compositions of the modern musical masters.