BY A. MESTON. 63 



lantern they will not attempt to run and can be lassooed or 

 knocked down. 



A full-grown cassowary has no fear of a dingo or a tame 

 dog. A tame dog's first interview with a cassowary, especially 

 a conceited dog, is a comical spectacle. The dog suddenly sniffs 

 the unusual trail, makes a wild rush forward, catches sight of a 

 six feat cassowary quietly picking up pencil cedar plums, gives a 

 sort of canine "Hooray ! here's something grand !" and advances 

 to the charge with all the supercilious arrogance which con- 

 temptuously underestimates the resources of an adversary. The 

 next scene shows an astonished and terror-stricken dog, with no 

 visible tail, flying for his life in a cloud of dead leaves, pursued 

 by a cassowary, with his plumes all standing erect and a voice 

 that sounds — to the dog — like a fog-horn blown by Lucifer on 

 the shores of Acheron. When the cassowary is out of sight the 

 dog sneaks back to his master's heels and meekly enquires, in 

 the plain language of looks, if he saw " that red-headed earth- 

 quake ?" 



The hen cassowary lays from two to six eggs on the bare 

 ground, usually in some secluded part of the scrub, in a thicket 

 of lawyers or stinging tree, sand she and the male divide the 

 responsibilities of incubation, fitting alternately on the eggs for 

 about five weeks. After hatching, the young birds are placed 

 entirely under the control of the male bird, and I have never seen 

 the female in charge of her family. 



In three or four days the young birds are strong enough to 

 run at a considerable pace, and when danger is announced they 

 hide under logs, dive into holes at the roots of trees, or squat in 

 a heap of leaves, and lie perfectly still until the old bird calls them 

 together. Up to two years of age the plumage is grey, and 

 thenceforth it darkens to a bright black colour at five years. 

 When out on the ranges, on the north branch of the Mulgrave 

 River, in 1885, 1 saw a very large and beautiful white cassowary, 

 evidently an albino. He liad no wattles, nor any of the usual 

 gorgeous colours on the neck. This noble bird walked leisurely 

 across the dry bed of a watercourse, and vanished in the dense 

 brush. Maturity is attained in seven years. 



The voice of the young birds is a plaintive whistle ; that of 

 the grown bird varies from a deep boom to a harsh hiss. He 

 adopts this tone when chasing a dog. 



