feet higher than he had any need to, and had not old Brown dodged him just
when he did he would be a dead man now.

A little further on the huntsmen sighted a mob of kangaroos. Joy and
excitement. A mob? It was a swarm! Away they hopped. Off scrambled the
dogs, and off flew Paddy Maloney and Dave--the rest followed anyhow, and
at varying speeds.

That all those dogs should have selected and followed the same kangaroo
was sad and humiliating. And such a waif of a thing, too! Still, they
stuck to it. For more than a mile, down a slope, the weedy marsupial
outpaced them, but when it came to the hill the daylight between rapidly
began to lessen. A few seconds more and all would have been over, but a
straggling, stupid old ewe, belonging to an unneighbourly squatter, darted
up from the shade of a tree right in the way of Maloney's Brindle, who was
leading. Brindle always preferred mutton to marsupial, so he let the
latter slide and secured the ewe. The death-scene was most imposing.
The ground around was strewn with small tufts of white wool. There was a
complete circle of eager, wriggling dogs--all jammed together, heads down,
and tails elevated. Not a scrap of the ewe was visible. Paddy Maloney
jumped down and proceeded to batter the brutes vigorously with a waddy.
As the others arrived, they joined him. The dogs were hungry, and fought
for every inch of the sheep. Those not laid out were pulled away, and!
when old Brown had dragged the last one off by the hind legs, all that was
left of that ewe was four feet and some skin.

Dad shook his head and looked grave--so did Anderson. After a short rest
they decided to divide into parties and work the ridges. A start was made.
Dad's contingent--consisting of himself and Joe, Paddy Maloney, Anderson,
old Brown, and several others--started a mob. This time the dogs separated