therefore, how does it get about without leaving a track? I have
set a dozen traps, but they do no good. I catch all small animals
except that one; animals that merely go into the trap out of
curiosity, I think, to see what the milk is there for. They never
drink it.

Three Months Later

The kangaroo still continues to grow, which is very strange and
perplexing. I never knew one to be so long getting its growth.
It has fur on its head now; not like kangaroo fur, but exactly
like our hair, except that it is much finer and softer, and instead
of being black is red. I am like to lose my mind over the capricious
and harassing developments of this unclassifiable zoological freak.
If I could catch another one--but that is hopeless; it is a new
variety, and the only sample; this is plain. But I caught a true
kangaroo and brought it in, thinking that this one, being lonesome,
would rather have that for company than have no kin at all, or any
animal it could feel a nearness to or get sympathy from in its
forlorn condition here among strangers who do not know its ways
or habits, or what to do to make it feel that it is among friends;
but it was a mistake--it went into such fits at the sight of the
kangaroo that I was convinced it had never seen one before. I
pity the poor noisy little animal, but there is nothing I can do
to make it happy. If I could tame it--but that is out of the
question; the more I try, the worse I seem to make it. It grieves
me to the heart to see it in its little storms of sorrow and
passion. I wanted to let it go, but she wouldn't hear of it. That
seemed cruel and not like her; and yet she may be right. It might
be lonelier than ever; for since I cannot find another one, how