The Kangaroo Hunter

CHAPTER I. the lost dress.

His hut stood on the border of a vast and unknown tract of bushland,

away north. Why he had removed from all traces of his fellows to lead

such a lonely mode of life we cannot pretend to explain. All we know is

that he was a tall, handsome young fellow, and known to a few of the

out-station boundary riders as Bob, the Kangaroo Hunter.

One day Bob had chased a fine old man kangaroo that he had wounded

farther than usual into the trackless depths of the bush. As he was

returning homeward along the margin of a small lagoon he perceived an

article of very fine linen lying on the sand. Our hero came to a dead

halt, and stared at the article in question, with as much astonishment

as if a white elephant had presented itself in his path. He took up the

linen, and the more he examined it the more puzzled he became at the

discovery. Bob was a capital shot, and could track game like a

blackfellow, but the finding of a piece of soft cambric in such a

solitary region bothered him completely. After supper he sat and

thought over it, but gave it up by-and-by and went to bed.

Somewhere in the dead of night the hunter was awakened by a voice

calling him by name. He could not see anything, for it was quite dark,

but he felt as if it were some one moving up and down over his bunk,

and at the same time a soft, gentle voice repeated, “Bob! Bob! Bob!”

“Here I am,” he answered. “What do you want?”

“Please give me back—my—my—dress,” replied the voice in hesitating

tones.

“Eh? what?” cried our hero, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “What did

you say? Your dress?”

“If you please,” continued the voice pleadingly, “the article you found

on the shore of the lake yesterday—it is mine. Pray return it to me.”

“Oh!” said Bob, “why, that was a lady’s——”

“I know it,” rejoined the voice quickly. “Oh dear. It is mine. I am a

lady.”

“Pray wait one moment, madam, and I will strike a light.”

“It is useless. You cannot see me, I am invisible,” replied the voice.

“Indeed!” ejaculated Bob, “that is a pity. However, I will return to

you what I found upon one condition.”

“What condition?”

“Tell me who you are.”

“Alas! I am the daughter of a mighty chief, whose race and dominions

are far beyond the ‘Lubra Mountains,’ but I have fallen into the power

of a wicked magician, who has confined me on the highest summit of the

Granite Cliff. Every day I am allowed to bathe in the lake accompanied

by an old hag called Mother Growl; but I cannot return without

my—my—dress. Yesterday I was obliged to stay by the lake, and I’m

afraid the cruel witch will kill me if I’m detained here much longer.”

The low, plaintive voice touched the heart of our hero, who replied,

“Rest easy, poor child. Here is your garment. Yet ere you depart tell

me if I can help you out of the hands of your enemies.”

“Can you climb the Granite Cliff, which is as steep and smooth as a

polished rod of steel? You cannot. Farewell!”

“Stop! Where there’s a will there’s a way,” said Bob. “With your

permission, I mean to try and do it; but I never heard of the Granite

Cliff. Where is it?”

“The path lies beyond the lake towards the plains,” answered the voice.

“Yet do not attempt to go, for there are horrid birds and beasts who

will devour you. More I dare not tell you.” So saying, the voice died

away in the stillness of the night. The warning uttered by the voice,

instead of deterring the young hunter from approaching the dreadful

cliff, only made him the more determined to make an effort to rescue

the lady from her thraldom. At the break of day he arose and loaded

his gun, slung his pouch—containing powder and ball—over his shoulder,

put some food in his bag, and started off for the lagoon. He traversed

the country beyond the lake for some considerable distance without

meeting a living thing and, feeling hungry, seated himself beneath the

shade of a large tree to eat his dinner. He had not been seated many

minutes when a gigantic bird alighted overhead and eyed him with some

attention. Bob observed it was as big in the body as an emu, with broad

wings, long beak, and talons like an eagle. Our hero had seized his gun

for a shot, but he dropped the weapon as the bird called out in a

hoarse tone,—

“Hello! Who are you?”

The hunter was dumb with surprise, but at length found voice to reply,

“I’m a traveller.”

“Oh, and what are you eating?” said the bird.

“Kangaroo,” answered Bob, smiling.

“I’m very fond of kangaroo. Can I dine with you?”

“Certainly,” replied our hero; “come down and I’ll share with you.”

The strange bird did not wait for the invitation to be repeated. In a

very short time he devoured the lion’s share of the lunch, and he and

our hero became very friendly.

“What kind of bird are you?”

“I’m a gum-hawk,” cried he, stretching his huge wings. “We are the

giants of the feathered tribe hereabouts.”

“You are a monster,” responded Bob in admiration. “I suppose you are

quite strong enough to carry a man like me?”

“I’d carry two such as you,” answered the gum-hawk quietly. “Only try

me.”

“Perhaps I may,” said Bob. “Do you know a place named the Granite

Cliff?”

“Rather; are you going there?”

“Yes,” answered Bob, “if I may depend on you to convey me so far.”

“Of course I will, with pleasure; one good turn deserves another. Get

on my back,” and ere our hero knew what he was about the bird rose with

him into the blue void high above the tree-tops. Bob held on tightly,

but without feeling at all alarmed at his dangerous position. From his

elevated post he had a splendid view of the surrounding country. Far

ahead in the distance he beheld a colossal peak, standing darkly out

above the surrounding hills. Its sides were almost upright, and shone

in the sun like polished marble.

“What mountain is that yonder?” he inquired of the gum-hawk.

“Mountain! That is the Granite Cliff.”

“I have a large piece of kangaroo still left in my pouch,” rejoined the

hunter after a pause. “The meat shall be yours if you set me down on

the summit of the cliff.”

“Don’t go there,” answered the gum-hawk in a warning voice.

“Why?”

“Because it is the home of wicked people, who will kill you.”

“I have no fear on that head. Will you have the meat?”

“Certainly, if you are determined,” and the friendly bird, finding that

our hero was resolved, flew to the apex of the rock, and there left

him.

The summit appeared quite different to what one would have imagined it

to be from the plain. It seemed to the eyes of Bob a small island in

itself. There was a wide, clear space whereon stood an old stone house,

and before its door a very large water-hole, and behind a dark belt of

dense bush, which almost obscured the setting sun.

The young hunter saw neither man nor beast; all was still, save the

noise of the wind among the trees, while close above his head the

clouds were rolling along.

Bob stepped up to the door of the hut and gave it a hard thump with his

gun. Immediately an old woman with red eyes and a brown face opened it

She had goggles upon her nose, and looked at him sharply before she

asked him how he came there.

“A gum-hawk took me up in his talons and dropped me upon this

mountain,” responded Bob readily.

“Well, what do you want here?”

“Entrance, my supper, and a night’s lodgings, dame.”

“That you shall have, but you will have to earn what you get here by

difficult work on the morrow.”

“I am prepared,” said Bob.

“Very well. Come in,” she cried, and immediately closed the door.

CHAPTER II. quiz.

There was nothing extraordinary within the house on the Granite Cliff.

If Dame Growl had any suspicions with reference to the visit of our

hero, she kept them to herself. Bob was provided with a good supper,

and a bed afterwards, where he slept as sound as a cockroach until the

morning. The sun had hardly begun to peep over the top of the mountain,

however, when the old woman shook him roughly by the arm. “Get up, you

sluggard!” she cried. “You don’t remain here and eat idle bread; you

must work—work!”

“All right, dame,” responded Bob cheerfully. “I’m not afraid of work in

any shape.”

The witch laughed grimly, thereby disclosing her black, ugly teeth.

“Oh, you are a wonderful fellow, but we can match you here; we’ll make

you work—work!”

She hobbled off into an adjoining room, and returned with an old

battered thimble, which she held out on her skinny forefinger. “Here,

take this,” she cried. “Now go, and empty the water-hole out there.”

“What! with a thimble?” cried Bob.

“Yes; and you must finish your task before evening; also take out all

the small fish, and range them according to their species on the bank.

Do you hear?”

“Of course, good dame. Anything besides?” asked the hunter with bitter

irony.

Mother Growl disclosed her teeth at him in answer, and left him to his

toil.

Poor Bob stared at the water-hole for a good half-hour, without seeing

what his gaze rested on. He had expected some reasonable work, but here

he was set to do an impossibility. The hole was a very large one;

almost as wide as the mouth of a river. How then was he to bale it out

with a thimble? It appeared very absurd; nevertheless, our hero was

determined to try. He began his work, but he found it labour in vain.

When noonday came he stopped, and sat down to rest. “It’s quite

hopeless for me to try and empty out all this water to-day. Why, it

would take me a thousand years to do it at this rate,” he cried,

raising his voice. “Indeed, I don’t see the use of making a fuss about

it; it will be the same whether I work or not. I wonder where the witch

has hid that lady that came to my hut?” And with this new turn to his

thoughts Bob sat by the water-hole and made circles in the water with

the pebbles at his feet.

As he sat there and shied the stones into the water-hole, he heard some

one cry out as if in sudden pain! Bob stared around and about him, but

he could see no one.

“Oh dear! you have struck me on the head!” exclaimed a voice.

The hunter rose quickly to his feet “Who and what are you?” he cried.

“Can’t you see who I am? Look here, on the water,” repeated the voice.

Our hero turned his gaze in the direction indicated, and beheld a large

frog swimming towards him.

“Pray who are you, sir?” inquired Bob, filled with amazement.

“I’ll tell you that presently,” responded the frog, as he crawled up

the embankment. He was a fine, speckled fellow with a big head, long

arms and legs, and a considerable paunch, which showed that he was fond

of his food.

“I was just taking my usual mid-day bath when my ears caught your

reproaches with respect to emptying this lake,” said the frog, at the

same time bowing very politely to Bob. “May I ask if you seriously

intend to attempt the task?”

The young hunter briefly explained the whole circumstances of the case.

Froggy listened quietly, and then replied, “Be content. I will help

you.”

“How can a frog help any one?” cried Bob contemptuously.

“Wait and see. I am not a frog as you suppose. This skin is a bathing

dress, nothing more. They are very fashionable in Elfland at present.

Of course the robe is not elegant, but it is comfortable. How do you

like it?”

“Are you a fairy?” inquired Bob, not heeding the last remark.

“I am that. Everybody round here knows Quiz the Sprite. I’m Quiz.”

“Ah! I’m sorry that stone hit you on the head.”

“Never mind. It didn’t hurt me much,” answered Quiz. “Now allow me to

help you with your task.”

“Can you really help me?”

“Certainly. Old Dame Growl is no friend of mine; and I have those with

me who can execute any tasks she may find for you to do, no matter how

difficult they may be.”

As Quiz spoke, he opened his speckled covering, and out stepped three

little men, no bigger than one’s thumb. The first was slim and slender,

with a very resolute face, the other two were strong and robust.

“These creatures may appear to you quite insignificant,” continued the

sprite, “but they are not so. Stand aside and watch what this, the

smallest of them, can do.” Saying which Quiz made a sign for Bob to

retire a few paces; which he did.

“Now, Resolute, give us a taste of your quality, by emptying out that

water-hole,” cried Quiz.

Ere the words had left the elfin’s mouth the wee man advanced, and

said, “Out, water—out, fishes,” and immediately the water rose in the

air like a white vapour, and rolled away with the other clouds; while

the fish all jumped out and arranged themselves on the bank according

to their size and species.

“Well done, Resolute!” shouted Bob, in ecstasy.

“Dame Growl will set you harder tasks to-morrow than this one,” resumed

the sprite. “Yet keep good heart, and I will help you to accomplish

them and to rescue the chief’s lovely daughter from her hands.

To-morrow I shall see you again.”

And with another polite bow, Quiz gathered the wee little men beneath

his skin, and hopped away to a deep crevice in the cliff, where he

vanished from sight.

When evening fell the Witch came forth from the house leaning on her

staff.

“Ah, sluggard!” she cried, “if you have not done the work I gave you I

will have you thrown head-foremost from the cliff.”

Bob laughed, and pointed with his finger to the lines of fishes and the

wide, empty water-hole.

Dame Growl held her skinny arms aloft in amazement.

“Who has done this task for you?” she shouted in unbridled passion.

“Tell me who it was, and I’ll have them boiled, roasted, and baked for

my husband’s dinner.”

“I sha’n’t tell you anything, dame,” answered Bob. “You gave me a job

to do; there it is done, according to order, and now I want my supper,

please.”

The old woman looked silently and maliciously at him for several

minutes, and then replied, “Very well, very well; doubtless you are a

wonderful fellow; but I have a task in store for you to-morrow which

will tax all your cleverness to accomplish. You got off too easily

to-day. Wait till to-morrow.”

Bob followed her as she went towards the hut, muttering under her

breath and shaking her staff at some imaginary foe. He ate his supper,

like a man who was hungry, and then retired to rest for the night.

CHAPTER III. a sleeping beauty.

When morning dawned, the enchantress conducted Bob to that belt of

trees before mentioned and which was situated to the rear of the hut.

“See here, my son,” she said, with a wicked leer, which made her face

look positively odious; “your task to-day will be to cut down every

tree on the cliff—split and cut the timber into short lengths; then you

must pile the whole into one great stack, so that we may have a beacon

to light the night hereabouts.”

“Is that all?” answered Bob, with self-feigned contempt. “Why, dame, I

could stand on my head and do all that.”

She shot another evil glance at him from beneath her shaggy brows. “I

care not how you stand,” she replied, “only the work I have given you

must be finished before evening. You came here on a very foolish

errand, but you do not return without your lesson.”

“What errand, dame?”

“To rescue my prize. The maiden who lost her robe, eh?”

“The lady is here, then?”

“Ay, and likely to remain here, foolish boy,” she cried. “Get to

work—get to work. Faint heart never won fair lady. Ho! Ho! Hi! Hi!”

With these words she gave him an axe, wedges, and a mallet, then

hobbled away to the hut.

Bob gazed after her with a confident smile on his handsome face. “None

but the brave deserve the fair,” cried he as he set to work at his

task; but at the first blow he discovered that his axe was only lead,

and also that the wedges were made of tin.

“This is too hard,” he muttered angrily. “The affair with the thimble

was bad enough, but this promises to become a trifle more interesting.

What’s to be done now? I can’t fell trees with a leaden axe, or split

logs with tin wedges, that’s certain. Well, I may as well take it easy

till the fairy comes; he’ll help me out of it all right.” With this

philosophical view of things our hero stretched himself full length

beneath a huge gum to await his friend.

The morning had become intensely hot and sultry, therefore it was much

more pleasant in the shade than felling trees in the full glare of the

sun. So Bob thought, as the morning waned apace, and the heat grew more

intense. Noontide found the young hunter still reclining in the shade,

and not a tree down. If they had given him a proper set of tools he

could have made a start at all events; as it was, he could only strain

his eyes looking for Quiz to make his appearance, and he was growing

tired even of that. Try as he would, he could not keep from nodding.

The deep stillness, the oppressive heat, together with that low,

buzzing, sleep-producing sound of insect life, appeared to draw down

his eyelids as if each of them had been freighted with a four-pound

weight. In the midst of his torpor, however, Bob felt a sharp pinch on

his leg. Looking up, the first thing upon which his gaze rested was a

very tiny lady dressed all in red. Close by stood a magnificent little

carriage, from which the lady had evidently just alighted. Such a

small, funny conveyance Bob had never seen before. It was constructed

entirely of wild flowers, and drawn by six well-matched locusts, in

lieu of ponies, with a butterfly for a coachman. By the side of the

latter Bob recognised the two little men whom he had seen with Quiz the

sprite.

“Pray, what are you doing here?” inquired the small lady in shrill

tones.

“Alas, madam,” replied Bob, “I came here to attempt the rescue of a

lovely maiden, who is under the spell of Dame Growl, the witch of this

cliff.”

“Ah! And why do you not rescue the lady, instead of slumbering away

your time here?” cried the fairy.

“Indeed, dear lady, the power of the enchantress can only be broken by

the performance of certain very difficult tasks, which I am quite

unable to perform without help.”

“What will you give me if I aid you?” inquired the tiny lady.

“Twenty kisses,” answered Bob promptly.

“Agreed! I’ll take the kisses first,” she said, with a rosy blush.

The pair of wee men on the box turned away their heads while our hero

paid his hire, and the gaudy coachman got down from his perch to adjust

the traces which had caught round one of the leader’s legs.

After what had happened, it appeared quite natural for Bob to hand the

lady to her carriage, and, still further, to accompany her along the

opposite side of the rock, chatting, smiling, and nodding pleasantly by

the way until the butterfly coached the team down a broad cleft that

formed an avenue to a small cave.

The tiny lady conducted the young hunter within; where he beheld one of

the most lovely damsels lying asleep upon a marble couch. The sleeper

seemed so divinely beautiful, that our hero stood speechless with

admiration.

“Here slumbers the beauty whom you seek,” she said.

“How lovely!” responded Bob, clasping his hands together. “I will

awaken her.”

“Nay, you cannot,” replied the fairy. “While the witch lives this fair,

innocent maiden will remain under the spell of the enchantment.”

“Let us go and kill the witch,” urged Bob.

“Hush! That would be a worse crime still. Have patience yet a little

while. Dame Growl will be punished ere long, and by the very means she

has devised for your overthrow. And now be good enough to follow those

two mannikins to the place where I met you. They are brave workers, and

will soon accomplish your task. When it is finished, return hither with

them.”

At a sign from her the wee men departed, followed by the young hunter,

who marvelled at the beauty of the sleeping maiden.

Since the days when our sturdy forefathers cleared the land to build

their huts, the sun had never looked down on such extraordinary

tree-felling as that which the two dwarfs began on the Granite Cliff.

From the point where Bob stood, it appeared as if innumerable giants

were at work. Crash! crash! crash! was heard on all sides; and, still

more wonderful, to note that the trees were no sooner down than they

seemed to roll asunder to the desired lengths, and to split without the

aid of mallet or wedges, and then to hop away like so many imps and lay

themselves into a vast heap.

Long before the evening our hero saw the task completed; but the dwarfs

had not finished yet. With the same amazing despatch they gathered

together all the dry leaves and the dead timber, and piling these

against the stock, they set fire to the whole mass.

It was not long ere a mighty conflagration arose which wrapped the apex

of the mountain in a sheet of fire. The forked tongues shot upward to

the clouds, and across the space where the house stood, until it was

seen as in the midst of a furnace.

The hunter hastened back to the cave when the flames began to ascend.

As he reached the place, a great shock seemed to rend the cliff

asunder.

“What is that?” he cried.

“It is the death of the wicked enchantress, Dame Growl,” answered the

wee lady. “The fire has enfolded her in its embrace, and so her power

is at an end. See! the sleeping beauty is awakening from the spell.”

While the fairy uttered the words, Bob saw the maiden stretch out her

shapely arms and fold them about her golden locks, and at the same time

she sighed deeply.

“Approach, mortal,” continued the fay, with a smile. “Touch her lips

with thine, so shall it rouse her into waking life; for upon whom her

bright eyes shall first rest there will her love take root and abide

for ever.”

And the youth kissed the budding, rosy mouth, and as he did so, behold!

there opened to his gaze a vision of Paradise.