Joe unfastened the rope, but somehow it pinched his fingers and he let go,
and Casey fell through the sheet. For three weeks Casey was an invalid at
our place. He would have been invalided there for the rest of his days
only old Dad came home and induced him to leave. Casey did n't want to
go; but Dad had a persuasive way with him that generally proved effectual.
Singularly enough, Dad complained that kangaroos were getting scarce where
he was camped; while our paddocks were full of them. Joe started a mob
nearly every day, as he walked round overseeing things; and he pondered.
Suddenly he had an original inspiration--originality was Joe's strong
point. He turned the barn into a workshop, and buried himself there for
two days. For two whole days he was never "at home,", except when he
stepped out to throw the hammer at the dog for yelping for a drink. The
greedy brute! it was n't a week since he'd had a billyful--Joe told him.
On the morning of the third day the barn-door swung open, and forth came a
kangaroo, with the sharpened carving knife in its paws. It hopped across
the yard and sat up, bold and erect, near the dog-kennel. Bluey nearly
broke his neck trying to get at it.
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