BY MRS. J. C. GIFFORD.
My husband and I were staying at a country house sixteen miles from Champion Bay, quite in the "bush," and miles away from any one. Our host was an influential person, and the owner of one of the largest stock farms on the great continent of Australia.
Everything was arranged for the hunt the day before, Mr. B—— having selected and had brought in from the bush those horses which he thought most suitable. The luncheon was all packed up overnight, and sent to the hunting ground at four o'clock in the morning, accompanied by a barrel of water, a luxury unattainable in the country we were bound for.
When we rose in the morning we saw from our windows some of the gentlemen already starting, and about an hour afterward the carriage which was to convey our party of five to the meet was brought round to the door.
After we had driven about nine miles we came to a hollow, where we found our horses waiting. Mine was a very neat gray, full of spirit, but very good-tempered, while my husband's mount was a pretty bay mare, very fast, which pulled considerably. We set off, each of us armed with boomerangs, or heavy curved sticks from eighteen inches to two feet in length. Our horses were excited, but we had to ride along as quietly as possible, for fear we should start a kangaroo and let it get away too far ahead.
We had not long to wait before a beautiful "flying doe" got up about three-quarters of a mile in front of us, when every one let his horse go as hard as he could, until the pace became tremendous, the horses having to jump all the bushes they came to.
After we had galloped for several miles, the country became rough and thickly grown with black-boys—a species of palm-tree, so called from its black stem. Unfortunately, my husband, in avoiding a collision with a lady, managed to come up against one of them, and it being strong, did not give with the weight of the horse, and knocked him out of the saddle. For a moment I was rather frightened, but as he called to me that he was all right, and told me to go on, I did so. He soon got his horse back, and came after us as quickly as possible.
Of course this little episode rather threw me out of the hunt, and in the distance I saw Miss L—— going a good pace with the kangaroo close ahead of her. She rode very well, and never once left it. After a while I found myself pretty close to it, and by this time our horses were getting a little bit used up. It seemed a long time before the kangaroo was knocked over. As soon as one of us got alongside of it, it doubled, and then the work of getting sufficiently near to upset it had to begin again. The pace they go is almost incredible, especially that of a "flying doe," and before one is accustomed to it their hopping has a peculiar effect. Each spring they give, their tails beat the ground as if worked by machinery. Mr. B—— eventually knocked over the "flying doe" at Miss L——'s request, she being uncertain how it ought to be done. I am glad to say it was not killed, but "ear-marked," and let go.
We gave our horses a little rest, and then started off again. Luckily the day was cloudy, or the heat on the sand plains would have been unbearable. This time again we were most fortunate, and soon saw a very big kangaroo going away ahead of us. After a short time we came to a bit of thick bush which the kangaroo made for. If not excited, one would think twice about going straight into it. However, I saw two bush-riders go at it, so thought I would try too, much to their amusement, and I was rewarded. Just in the middle the kangaroo doubled, and being then quite close to him, I had all the fun to myself, and Bismarck—my horse—entered into it perfectly.
Crash we went through the bush regardless of the possibility of eyes being poked out by boughs, and our faces being scratched all over. In fact, I found the only thing to do was to sit tight, keep my head down, and let the horse go. He followed the kangaroo until we found ourselves in the open again. Then we came alongside of him in a canter, as he was getting tired, so I got Bismarck very close, and knocked him down. I then thought he would give us no more trouble, but much to my surprise, when pulling up the horse, I saw him get up and begin to go off. I was determined he should not get away, so our chase began again. We soon were together, and I made Bismarck keep a little bit ahead of him, waiting for our opportunity to upset him. He was actually hopping along under my feet, and I knocked his head with my foot. He tore my habit by putting one of his paws through it, and scratched one of Bismarck's fore-legs in trying to cross him. This he was not quick enough in doing, and was soon down on the ground. The actual run was, I believe, only two miles. The kangaroo was afterward killed, and his paws cut off for me as a remembrance of my first hunt, but in drying they were spoiled, and I never got them. His tail was taken home to be made into soup, which is most excellent.