grip. Paddy Maloney ran behind the brute several times to lay him out
with a waddy, but each time he turned and fled before striking the blow.
Dad thought to force matters, and began kicking his assailant vigorously
in the stomach. Such dull, heavy thuds! The kangaroo retaliated, putting
Dad on the defensive. Dad displayed remarkable suppleness about the hips.
At last the brute fixed his deadly toe in Dad's belt.

It was an anxious moment, but the belt broke, and Dad breathed freely
again. He was acting entirely on the defensive, but an awful consciousness
of impending misfortune assailed him. His belt was gone, and--his trousers
began to slip--slip--slip! He called wildly to the others for God's sake
to do something. They helped with advice. He yelled "Curs!" and
"Cowards!" back at them. Still, as he danced around with his strange and
ungainly partner, his trousers kept slipping--slipping. For the fiftieth
time and more he glanced eagerly over his shoulder for some haven of
safety. None was near. And then--oh, horror!--down THEY slid calmly and
noiselessly. Poor Dad! He was at a disadvantage; his leg work was
hampered. He was hobbled. Could he only get free of them altogether!
But he could n't--his feet were large. He took a lesson from the foe and
jumped--jumped this way and that way, and round about, while large drops
of perspiration rolled off him. The small dogs displayed renewed and
ridiculous ferocity, often mistaking Dad for the marsupial. At last Dad
became exhausted--there was no spring left in him. Once he nearly went
down. Twice he tripped. He staggered again--down he was going--down--down,
down and down he fell! But at the same moment, and, as though they had
dropped from the clouds, Brindle and five or six other dogs pounced on
the "old man." The rest may be imagined.

Dad lay on the ground to recover his wind, and when he mounted Farmer
again and silently turned for home, Paddy Maloney was triumphantly seated