XIV 



In the Wake of the Partridge 



&quot;The kangaroo ran very fast, 



I ran faster. 

 The kangaroo was very fat, 



I ate him. 

 Kangaroo! Kangaroo!&quot; 



THIS, the hunting-song of the Australian 

 Bushman, is the best one I know. Without 

 disguise or adornment, it embodies the prim 

 itive hunting instinct that is in every one of 

 us, whether we hunt people or animals or 

 things or ideas. 



Jonathan and I do not habitually hunt 

 kangaroos, and our hunting, or at any rate 

 my share in it, is not as uniformly successful 

 as the Bushman s seems to have been. For 

 our own uses we should have to amend the song 

 something as follows: 



&quot;The partridge-bird flew very fast, 



I missed him. 

 The partridge-bird was very fat, 



I ate chicken. 

 Partridge-bird! Partridge-bird!&quot; 



But we do not measure the success of our 



