CHAPTER VIII.
A Kangaroo-Hunt from Shingle Hut.
We always looked forward to Sunday.

It was our day of sport.

Once, I remember, we thought it would never come.

We longed restlessly for it, and the more we longed the more it seemed to linger.
A meeting of selectors had been held; war declared against the marsupial; and a hunt on a grand scale arranged for this particular Sabbath.

Of course those in the neighbourhood hunted the kangaroo every Sunday, but "on their own," and always on foot, which had its fatigues.