“Don’t be proud, friend Pencroft,” replied the reporter.  “Bows and arrows were sufficient for centuries to stain the earth with blood.  Powder is but a thing of yesterday, and war is as old as the human race—­unhappily.”

“Faith, that’s true, Mr. Spilett,” replied the sailor, “and I always speak too quickly.  You must excuse me!”

Meanwhile, Herbert constant to his favorite science, Natural History, reverted to the kangaroos, saying,—­

“Besides, we had to deal just now with the species which is most difficult to catch.  They were giants with long gray fur; but if I am not mistaken, there exist black and red kangaroos, rock kangaroos, and rat kangaroos, which are more easy to get hold of.  It is reckoned that there are about a dozen species.”

“Herbert,” replied the sailor sententiously, “there is only one species of kangaroos to me, that is ‘kangaroo on the spit,’ and it’s just the one we haven’t got this evening!”

They could not help laughing at Master Pencroft’s new classification.  The honest sailor did not hide his regret at being reduced for dinner to the singing pheasants, but fortune once more showed itself obliging to him.

In fact, Top, who felt that his interest was concerned went and ferreted everywhere with an instinct doubled by a ferocious appetite.  It was even probable that if some piece of game did fall into his clutches, none would be left for the hunters, if Top was hunting on his own account; but Neb watched him and he did well.

Towards three o’clock the dog disappeared in the brushwood and gruntings showed that he was engaged in a struggle with some animal.  Neb rushed after him, and soon saw Top eagerly devouring a quadruped, which ten seconds later would have been past recognizing in Top’s stomach.  But fortunately the dog had fallen upon a brood, and besides the victim he was devouring, two other rodents—­the animals in question belonged to that order—­lay strangled on the turf.

Neb reappeared triumphantly holding one of the rodents in each hand.  Their size exceeded that of a rabbit, their hair was yellow, mingled with green spots, and they had the merest rudiments of tails.

The citizens of the Union were at no loss for the right name of these rodents.  They were maras, a sort of agouti, a little larger than their congeners of tropical countries, regular American rabbits, with long ears, jaws armed on each side with five molars, which distinguish the agouti.

“Hurrah!” cried Pencroft, “the roast has arrived! and now we can go home.”

The walk, interrupted for an instant, was resumed.  The limpid waters of the Red Creek flowed under an arch of casuannas, banksias, and gigantic gum-trees.  Superb lilacs rose to a height of twenty feet.  Other arborescent species, unknown to the young naturalist, bent over the stream, which could be heard murmuring beneath the bowers of verdure.

Meanwhile the stream grew much wider, and Cyrus Harding supposed that they would soon reach its mouth.  In fact, on emerging from beneath a thick clump of beautiful trees, it suddenly appeared before their eyes.