There I sat in my saddle like a man in a dream, lettin' my horse follow Jim's up hill and down dale, and half the time lettin' go his head and givin' him his own road.
Everything, too, I seemed to notice and to be pleased with somehow.
Sometimes it was a rock wallaby out on the feed that we'd come close on before we saw one another, and it would jump away almost under the horse's neck, taking two or three awful long springs and lighting square and level among the rocks after a drop-leap of a dozen feet, like a cat jumping out of a window.

But the cat's got four legs to balance on and the kangaroo only two.

How they manage it and measure the distance so well, God only knows.

Then an old 'possum would sing out, or a black-furred flying squirrel--pongos, the blacks call 'em--would come sailing down from the top of an ironbark tree, with all his stern sails spread, as the sailors say, and into the branches of another, looking as big as an eagle-hawk.

And then we'd come round the corner of a little creek flat and be into the middle of a mob of wild horses that had come down from the mountain to feed at night.