122 COLLECTOR'S RAMBLES 



creature had life enough left to crawl back, where it 

 was impossible to get him. 



We had a long trudge through the woods back to 

 our little cabin, reaching here, tired and hungry, after 

 dark. To-morrow we leave for Panton Hill, and for 

 Melbourne on Monday. 



SATURDAY, August 26. Having left all our things 

 to be brought on by the cart, we started on foot down 

 the range, but at Bald Hill where there was a lovely 

 view of the lower hills and the Yara River Valley 

 we stopped to wait for the cart. While there I heard 

 a lyre-bird, and followed the whistling about a quarter 

 of a mile, at last coming quite near, but after all failed 

 to see him in the ferns. A dry stick snapped under 

 my foot, and the song instantly stopped. Sitting down 

 on a log, I waited a long time ; finally the singing 

 began at some distance, gradually drawing nearer. 

 Raising myself cautiously, I saw him hop up on a fallen 

 tree and run toward me. He was too far away for a 

 shot, so I stood still watching him. 



He jumped from the tree to the ground, where he 

 had collected a circular heap of earth about a foot high, 

 and perhaps four feet in diameter. Here he strutted 

 about, spreading his magnificent tail, and making the 

 woods echo with his wonderful song. Like a fox stalk- 

 ing a hare, I crawled through the ferns toward him, 

 and when near enough, sprang up and instantly fired. 

 When I came to the spot he lay stretched upon the 



