The spurwinged plover and the curlew ran swiftly among the grass, and on a tall dead tree white cockatoos and blue cranes watched the intruders curiously.
Alice and Sam rode together soberly, and before them were Halbert and Jim, just up, ready for the chase.

Before them, again, was the active blackfellow, holding the dogs in a leash,--two tall hounds, bred of foxhound and greyhound, with a dash of colley.
A mob of kangaroos crosses their path, but they are all small; so the dogs, though struggling fiercely, are still held tight by Jerry: now he crosses a little ridge before them and looks down into the gully beyond, holding up his hand.
The two young men gather up their reins and settle themselves in their seats.

"Now, Halbert," says Jim, "sit fast and mind the trees." They ride up to the blackfellow; through the low wattles, they can see what is in the gully before them, though the dogs cannot.
"Baal, flying doe this one," says Jerry in a whisper.

"Old man this fellow, cobbon matong, mine think it." A great six-foot kangaroo was standing about two hundred yards from them, staring stupidly about him.
"Let go, Jerry," said Jim.

The dogs released; sprang forward, and, in an instant, saw their quarry, which, with a loud puff of alarm, bounded away up the opposite slope at full speed, taking twenty feet at each spring.
Halbert and Jim dashed off after the dogs, who had got a good start of them, and were laying themselves out to their work right gallantly; Sam's dog, Fly, slightly leading.