Looking about a hundred yards to the right of the native, you will see a kangaroo erect upon its hind legs and supported by its tail; it is reared to its utmost height, so that its head is between five and six feet above the ground—its short fore-paws hang by its side, its ears are pointed, it is listening as carefully as the native, and you see a little head peering out from its pouch to enquire what has alarmed its mother; but the native moves not, you cannot tell whether it is a human being or the charred trunk of a burnt tree which is before you, and for several minutes the whole group preserve their relative position; at length the kangaroo becomes reassured, drops upon its fore-paws, gives an awkward leap or two, and goes on feeding, the little inhabitant of its pouch stretching its head farther out, tasting the grass its mother is eating, and evidently debating whether or not it is safe to venture out of its resting place and gamble about amongst the green dewy herbage.
Meantime the native moves not until the kangaroo, having two or three times resumed the attitude of listening, and having like a monkey scratched its side with its fore-paw, at length once more abandons itself in perfect security to its feed, and playfully smells and rubs its little one. Now the watchful savage, keeping his body unmoved, fixes the spear first in the throwing-stick, and then raises his arms in the attitude of throwing, from which they are never again moved until the kangaroo dies or runs away; his spear being properly secured, he advances slowly and stealthily towards his prey, no part moving but his legs; whenever the kangaroo looks round he stands motionless in the position he is in when it first raises its head, until the animal, again assured of its safety, gives a skip or two and goes on feeding; again the native advances, and this scene is repeated